Essays on the Higher Education/Chapter 2
THE PLACE OF THE FITTING-SCHOOL IN AMERICAN EDUCATION
There can be no doubt that the present generation is experiencing a marked disturbance of opinion and practice in the matter of education. Other periods of sharp and sudden revolutionary action have occurred in this, as in all human affairs. But the reasons for the marked character of the present disturbance are not difficult of statement. We must indeed recognize a current wide-spreading dissatisfaction with everything belonging to the existing order, which, since its sources are somewhat hidden, we may attribute to the Zeitgeist—the inexplicable or unexplained mental drift of the age. But the enormous recent growths of all the sciences, the strong practical tendencies which urge the cry for what bears visible fruit in education, and the extremely varied interests represented in modern culture, are the more obvious causes of the prevalent disturbance.
Thus far it has been the schools of the higher and the highest learning which have chiefly felt the pressure of the oncoming of the so-called "new education." Under this pressure these schools have largely changed the nature, increased the amount, and developed in variety the studies of their curricula. But the signs are only too plainly manifest that similar demands will be made upon the schools which lie lower down in the stratum of the secondary education.
Indeed, as it seems to me, upon no other stage of education is the burden of making all things "new" destined to fall more heavily than upon the fitting-schools of the country. By "fitting-schools" I mean such as fit pupils for the colleges and first-class scientific schools; and any educational institution or more private enterprise, in so far as it undertakes such preparatory work, is entitled to be called by this name. The intermediate position which every such school is, by its very nature, compelled to occupy cannot fail to confront it in the near future with a number of most serious problems. Back of the fitting-school, or rather at its base, lies the primary education, with all its many flaws, accumulated follies, and marked deficiencies. In this earlier stage we can expect little yielding to the pressure of the new ideas of compass, variety, and choice in education. The limits of change possible in such matters for the primary schools of the country will remain comparatively small. No variety of elective courses, and very little attempt at increased breadth, can enter here. Whatever improvement is made at this stage must simply be in the way of securing more thorough and genial training of the child in the few subjects with which all education begins, and which every pupil is alike required to know. These schools, then, may be spoken of as the nether-stones of our mill of education; they will stand immovable on the lower side of the instruction of the preparatory schools. Or, to change the figure of speech, they will entail upon the preparatory schools all the deficiencies, follies, and weaknesses, of which they are themselves seized.
I have just spoken of the primary schools, with their imperfect but very stable work of laying the foundations of a common education, as the nether mill-stone on which the fitting-schools have to lie. But on the other side are the colleges and higher scientific schools; these have for years been steadily increasing the gross amount of their demands upon the fitting-schools, and now, under the influence of the new ideas of education, they seem likely to impose yet heavier burdens by a corresponding increase in the variety of these demands. The higher institutions may, then, not inaptly, be compared to the upper mill-stone in the educational mill What is to prevent the preparatory schools from being ground fine between the nether and the upper stones? And yet between the two is the natural and only place for these schools. Their difficulty is also greatly increased by the fact that they can scarcely hold most of their pupils long enough to do a thoroughly good work with them. The fact that the pupils come crude and unformed to such schools, even in all matters of the most elementary training, is coupled with the greatest haste on the part of the same pupils to pass through the intermediate stage of education, into the freer, larger, and more varied intellectual (and social and athletic) activity of the college.
And now let us consider separately each one of the three kinds into which the general grade of schools called "preparatory" may he divided. The case of the public high-school as a fitting-school is, under the present circumstances, exceedingly peculiar. Indeed, the very existence in the future of the public high-school in this country, not only as a fitting-school, but also in any shape whatever, cannot be predicted with much confidence. But at present the attitude and relations of the different schools of this grade toward the colleges vary greatly. In a few public schools the preparation given for college or for the scientific school is as good as can be obtained anywhere; in a somewhat larger number the influences are on the whole in favor of a truly liberal education. But in a very large and, I fear, increasing number of cases, especially in the West, the influence of the public schools is decidedly adverse to a truly liberal education. In some places the teachers of the public schools constitute as a body a kind of organized monopoly, secretly or actively employed in keeping out of all vacated positions every college-bred man, and exercising all possible influence to depreciate a college education. I have personally been cognizant of a system of public education, inaugurated in a large city, where, in the higher grade of instruction the pupils were taught at the public expense to dissect cats, to accept in toto Bain's psychology, and to despise the Christian religion; but not one of them could learn a word of Greek without the expense of a private tutor.
With the present uncertainty touching the ultimate fate of the high-school before my mind, I have only two remarks to make upon its use as a fitting-school. First: The tax-payers and voters are not likely to consent much further to multiply the variety of optional courses to be taught in the high-schools at the public expense. Second: If they are not forced by political influences greatly to restrict the amount and variety of instruction which they at present aim to impart, the high-schools of the better quality in the larger places will probably see the propriety of continuing instruction in the classical languages.
In speaking of the public high-school as a fitting-school, it is not necessary to espouse either of two tenable theories as to the basis on which our system of public education rests. If this system rests solely on the principle of self-preservation, one must hold that the high-schools of the country, as at present constituted, have no right to existence whatever. It may be argued that the preservation of the state requires that every citizen should have an elementary education; but it cannot be shown that to impart a little algebra, and a little chemistry, and a little music, and a little drawing, etc., is a measure of public safety.
But suppose one to hold (as I have little hesitation in holding) that states, like noble individuals, and like God himself, should not be satisfied with doing what is necessary to the bare preservation of existence. Let our theory be, that states, in the long run and wide extent of their being, should strive by collective action to nurture intelligence, intellectual variety, and beauty of multiform and high development, in as many as may be of their citizens. This they should do, both because it pays and because it is intrinsically noble. Let the theory of public education be a generous paternal theory. But even with this theory the work of expensive specialization of education at the public cost cannot be carried beyond a certain limit. That limit, it is the opinion of most thoughtful and observing persons, has been already reached, and perhaps passed. Still, it is my contention that if the generous theory is to triumph, and the highly specialized high-school is to stay, no other of its courses have any better right to remain than those in the classical languages. There is no good reason why a high-school should teach its pupils to dissect cats, to accept Bain's or any other psychology, to read music and draw a little, etc., and at the same time banish Greek and Latin from its curriculum.
The case of the largest and best-equipped academies needs, in the prospect of largely increased demands that they shall furnish a more extended and varied preparation for college, scarcely any detailed consideration. Such schools will probably in time succeed in meeting well whatsoever demands are made upon them. If it should become necessary, they may perhaps develop into miniature colleges with curricula composed of several score of different courses, among which the youths who frequent them, of ages from twelve to eighteen, may exercise their option. That they would in this way really lay more satisfactorily the foundations of a truly liberal education, or even of one likely to fit men for success in the different businesses and professions, I cannot believe. And surely the burden of meeting these new demands would be very great,—too great for more than a very few of the more fortunate fitting-schools to succeed in carrying it.
The case of those more private enterprises which have hitherto furnished some of the best candidates for admission to our colleges requires even less of detailed consideration. This class of fitting-schools simply cannot comply with the conditions required by the full and consistent development of the "new education." The demand for instruction in German or French staggers a school of this kind; the demand for a curriculum including various percentages of physics, chemistry, more advanced mathematics, etc., would destroy it.
In general it is pretty obvious that the evolution of the new education, if it goes on in the directions in which its present indications are pointing, will bring upon the fitting-schools of the country such a severe application of the laws of natural selection that only a few of the fittest to survive will really succeed in surviving. At the same time, if they all survived, and were ultimately found reorganized in a form best to exhibit the type followed by this process, the result would, in my judgment, be far from satisfactory. For the true principle of the secondary education does not call for the offer of a great variety of studies, either prescribed or elective, but for a thorough and long-continued discipline in a very few judiciously selected and representative studies.
The relief which the fitting-schools require, in order to attain their true place in the system of American higher education, must come mainly from the accomplishment of two results. The first of these is the careful organization of our entire system of education, upon the basis of an improved primary education, and in accordance with the principle of a natural twofold division of courses of prescribed studies in the secondary education. The second is a closer and more intelligent alliance between the two parts of the secondary education.
One thing greatly to be desired and striven after, as affording needed relief to the preparatory schools, is an improvement in the primary education. No one acquainted with the facts needs to be told how faulty is the knowledge of the most elementary subjects possessed by the average child of twelve or fourteen, whether he has. been trained in a public or a private school. How blundering is his use, in speech, reading, or writing, of his mother-tongue! With how little real notion of what our good planet is, in structure and aspect, has he learned long lists of unpronounceable names of mountains, rivers, and cities—not to say hamlets and villages! For how many years has he struggled with the fundamental mysteries of number, and spent his time wearisomely in doing "sums," the like of which are not to be found in real life upon this earth, and, as we trust, not in the heavens above! And yet how often does he stand stupid before the first demand to answer any practical question in arithmetic that requires a new combination of the "rules"!
As touching the general interest of the people, and the salvation of the nation—so far as its education tends to its salvation—nothing is more important than the proper and efficient conduct of the primary education; and, as well, in the particular interest of the preparatory schools, few things are more important.
It is, however, to a systematic arrangement of all the courses of instruction taught in the years of the secondary education that I look with most confidence for lessening the difficulties and enlarging the success of the fitting-school. At present there appears to be no little danger of bringing the same trials and defects upon all the work of our academies and high-schools as those under which fell the orthodox college curriculum of some years since. But are there no principles which may enable us to classify the bewildering number of possible studies, and thus to select a few which shall alone serve to form the staple of a sound secondary education? I believe that such principles exist.
There are four classes of subjects about which the human mind strives to obtain, and a wise system of education aims to impart, a truly scientific knowledge. These are: first, the world of "nature," so called in the restricted meaning of the term; next, language, as the vehicle of the mind, and that product of choice thought and language which is literature; third, man as mind, with his ethical, religious, aesthetical, social, and political being all included; and fourth, human history, as the complex resultant of all the interacting forces involved in the first three classes of subjects. Now the secondary education should impart a goodly amount of clear knowledge of each of these four great subjects; and, of course, also of the peculiar mental discipline derived from the pursuit of each.
It should be at once admitted, however, that the aptitudes and tastes of human beings differ, and that some of their differences are very persistent, radical, and sure perpetually to recur among great multitudes of individuals. It can perhaps scarcely be claimed that men are born with an aptitude and a taste for geology, for astronomy, or for psychology and ethics. But it seems likely, if not certain, that some men do more naturally incline to those pursuits which require objective observation, to the studies of external nature, and others to the studies of the mind as known in self-consciousness or as expressing itself in language. This fact suggests, at least, the necessity for a bifurcation of the prescribed studies of the secondary stage of education. Not far from the beginning of this stage, therefore, I would have an opportunity provided for a division in the courses of prescribed study. On the one hand, I would have the emphasis laid upon the study of language and of the so-called humanities; on the other hand, the emphasis should be laid upon mathematics and the natural and physical sciences.
But one thing more of this same general kind is sadly needed. Perhaps the most serious defect of the system of liberal education now prevalent in this country is its lack of a truly progressive character. It is full of fits and starts. It is too disjointed and fragmentary. This is partly because there are no settled principles of procedure, fixing the order and amounts of the studies; and partly because there is no power which can secure teachers that know precisely what they are expected, fitted, and permitted to teach. The consequence is that the different years of school-life too much resemble the different successive sessions of our legislatures. Milton somewhere describes the process of legislation as "hatching a lie with the heat of jurisdiction." Fortunately, the process also consists in killing the brood of lies already hatched by previous legislation. Now the process of education in this country is by no means so bad in this regard as the process of legislation; but in certain respects the former too much resembles the latter.
Let it now be supposed that we have so far made progress toward the millennium as to have some of these evils largely remedied. And surely this is not an extravagant or hopeless supposition. The preparatory schools would then receive their pupils, thoroughly well instructed in certain elementary branches, at the average age of twelve or thirteen years; that is to say, their pupils would already read, write, and spell in the English language easily and correctly; they would have finished arithmetic; they would have learned the principal facts touching the structure and position of the earth as a planet, and touching the natural and political divisions of its surface; they would be familiar with the outlines of the history of their own country. The instruction of the preparatory school should then extend over a period of about six years more; that is, from about the age of twelve to about the age of eighteen. It should be thoroughly organized, not with a view to furnish a large number of courses, whether prescribed or elective, but with a view to impart a thorough and progressive training in a few great and representative subjects. It should be bifurcated so as to prepare men with a general scientific culture which places the emphasis either upon a knowledge of language and the humanities, or upon a knowledge of mathematics and the facts and laws of nature.
In the foregoing way it would be possible, I contend, for the fitting-schools of the country to accomplish much more and better work than is now possible. Indeed, if the results reasonable to hope for in the future were secured, these schools could send out their pupils as well educated at eighteen as they are now at twenty, that is, after being two years in college. Thus at least two entire years could be saved in the secondary education.
The valid objection to our present system of education, that it compels young men to wait too long before entering upon their more strictly university or professional studies, would be obviated in this way. The study of theology, law, and medicine, or that free pursuit of science which accords with the university idea, could thus begin at the average age of twenty, instead of twenty-two or twenty-four, as the case now is. But the university and professional education would then rest on a much better basis than is now laid at a later age. Moreover, the two or more years of time which would be saved could go where they ought to go—namely, into university and professional studies. This would give us far better-equipped teachers, physicians, lawyers, and clergymen.
There is one other matter of practical importance which needs much careful attention in order to lessen the burdens and increase the efficiency of the fitting schools of the country. A closer and more intelligent alliance must somehow be effected between the earlier and the later parts of the secondary education. As the case now stands, this is equivalent to saying that the colleges and advanced scientific schools on the one hand, and the preparatory schools on the other hand, must enter into a closer and more intelligent alliance. The connections existing in reality between the instruction of the last years of the preparatory school and the instruction of the first years of college are much more intimate than those existing between any other parts of our entire system of education. As the courses of instruction in almost all our colleges are now arranged, and as they probably will be arranged for a long time to come, the youth passes from the preparatory school to the college with no break whatever in the character of his education. He continues the study of the same subjects, in about the same way, for two years or more longer. His staple daily tasks in the earlier part of the secondary education were the classical languages and mathematics; they are the same now that he has achieved the distinction of passing under the college curriculum.
And indeed there is no good reason why the character of the instruction should be greatly changed when the youth enters college. There is nothing magical about the age of eighteen, or about the fact that the youth has got into a school called by a different name from the one he has left. The real determining factors in the question of the subjects and the method of his study are the amount of his maturity and of his general scientific training.
The details of an orderly and progressive arrangement of the entire course of study during the years of the secondary education might fitly occupy the attention of a committee of experts. Such a committee should be chosen in part from the colleges, and in part from those fitting-schools that are most influential and most interested in the improvement of classical and scientific study. Any plan proposed by such a committee would be an incitement, though not a mandate, to better things. Moreover, it would be likely in time to commend itself to other colleges and fitting-schools not participating at first in the plan. It might result in affording great relief to the fitting-schools, and in largely increasing the efficiency of their instruction.
In conclusion it is well to notice that some such plan as has just been proposed seems to afford the only rational relief obtainable from the growing evils of that system of "cramming" which everywhere prevails in modern education. A "bitter cry" is being raised on all sides, not of the " outcast" but of those who are gathered into our elaborate, hard-working educational institutions. Parents, teachers, pupils, all join in the cry. The excessive specialization of modern life has invaded the schools of the land from lowest to highest. There is no doubt of the existence of a certain evil, and of more or less suffering under it. But whence is the remedy to come? Not from fewer hours of study per day, or months per year, or years spent during the entire process of education. Certainly not from attempting to impart a yet more shallow knowledge of the great number of studies already entering into the courses of instruction in all our schools. The remedy must be sought in the removal of such of those causes of the evil as admit of removal; and these are mainly two: the variety of subjects unnecessarily crowded into the few years devoted to education, and the poor character of the instruction.
That much of the school-time of youth is now wasted through excessive variety and injudicious arrangement of the studies, and on account of unskilful teaching, is proved, alas! only too well, by the experience of every intelligent observer. An illustration or two may not be out of place at this point. Not long since, an educated man made the attempt to assist his son in the preparation of the daily lesson in English Grammar. For some time the boy, who was twelve years of age, and nearly ready for the high-school, had been settling into a condition of despair over this particular study. Meanwhile the boy's use of the English language had been, under the influence of the public school, steadily deteriorating. After rummaging a big text-book for more than an hour the father succeeded in discovering among the socalled "exceptions" what he considered the probably correct answers to most of the questions composing the lesson of the following day. These questions were afterward taken to a distinguished scholar, a student and teacher of language and philology. He could not answer them in any terms which would have satisfied the teacher of the boy or the author of the text-book on Grammar. They were then shown to the very highest authority on such subjects to be found in this country, to a gentleman whose attainments in the science of language are celebrated by the world of scholars. His answer to these questions was a strain of unmixed invective against teacher, text-book, and school-system which could tolerate such wasteful folly in instruction.
But such waste is by no means confined to the primary stage of education. Some years ago a professor of Greek in an Eastern institution visited the recitation-room of a Western college, where a class of sophomores were reading a play of Aristophanes. Only one of the class—and this one a young lady from Massachusetts—made any serious attempt at a correct translation of the short lesson for the day. The teacher was evidently much embarrassed by the presence of the visitor, and at a loss as to what should be done with his pupils or their lesson. After considerable floundering he seemed to gather his classical learning for a supreme effort. This resulted in his propounding with due solemnity the following question: "Is the change from the stem math to the stem manth a phonetic or a dynamic change?" The class stared, but remained silent; the teacher looked even more embarrassed than before; the Eastern professor broke into a cold sweat through fear that the question might be referred to him—for he could not have answered it. The same question was asked a second time with deliberateness appropriate to so grave an inquiry; the result was unchanged. Then, after another long pause, this episode terminated with a solemn asseveration from the teacher: "It is uncertain." And so the hour dragged on. In all probability, no member of this class had been so trained as to recognize infallibly the simplest grammatical construction, or to translate at sight the simplest passages with a fair degree of accuracy.
Finally: we have no right to flatter ourselves that there is anything peculiar in the quality of the American boy which will enable him to dispense with that long and patient training in prescribed studies which does so much for the German student in the secondary stage of his education. Indeed, there is so much flexibility and versatility in the present character of the American boy, and so much lack of stable institutions which have to do with education, that it is not possible to pronounce with confidence upon the question what his typical national characteristics will prove to be. At present it may be said that if the average pupil in this country is bright, enterprising, and inquiring, and is ready with a commendable reliance upon his own resources to skip from branch to branch on the tree of learning, and to pluck at an incredible variety of the flowers of knowledge in a short space of time, we are not so sure that he possesses certain other equally desirable qualities. These are the staying qualities,—the patience, endurance, and steady industry on which scholarship depends.