[For the California Teacher.]

HINTS ON METHODS OF TEACHING.

Human consciousness consists of two distinct orders of manifestations. The first arises from perception, the other from conception; the one is the product of sense, the other of thought; the one is direct, the other reflex; the one is clear, vivid, the other more or less indistinct and faint; the one is objective, the other subjective; but by far the most important distinction, in an educational point of view, consists in their origin. The first order of manifestations arises directly from the activity of the physical senses, while the second order is but a feeble repetition of the first. These two orders of manifestation run along side by side; the one trenching upon the other in such a manner as to threaten entire exclusion of one from consciousness, or the other, as conditions and circumstances chance to be. In beholding new scenes and strange objects, the first order greatly predominates, while in reverie, it is nearly shut out from consciousness; yet either is rapidly set up, by a change of conditions. These two mental states are recognised by Sir Wm. Hamilton as Presentative and Re-presentative.

Since these two orders embrace the entire sphere of consciousness, and since the first gives rise to the second, we may obtain clearer views of methods of teaching, inasmuch as teaching consists in rendering the second order more vivid and clear, and thereby increasing the intensity and activity of the first.

Sensuous perception is the basis of all subsequent mental activity. No idea of color can be conceived by those blind from birth, or of melody or harmony by those who have always been deaf; the only avenues through which subsequent mental manifestations can come, are those furnished by the organs of physical sense.

The natural order of mental development is from the sensuous to the ideal, from the concrete to the abstract, from perception to conception. No modification of this law is possible, and consequently, the degree of development has been in each individual, all other things being equal, exactly proportionate to the conditions permitting the operation of the law. It is true, a vast amount of so-called knowledge is acquired, but since it is

not based upon that source from which all real knowledge must come, it is factitious and useless.

Our methods of teaching geography will illustrate my meaning. The perceptions upon which are based our knowledge of geography (as obtained in the schools) are derived from books and maps. You ask your pupil to tell where Africa is, and he will go straight to the wall-map and point it out; or ask him to describe a river, he will point to the mountain range in which it rises, and tell you in what direction and into what water it flows, without hesitation, and with an air of confidence which shows that he is perfectly satisfied with his knowledge-and all this without the most distant conception of the reality; in fact, his thoughts never wander from the wall-map during the exercise. The same may be said of the study of language. After years of painful study of grammar, the pupil goes forth with the same modes of expression, and is subject to the same influences of taste and style, as those who have made themselves familiar with classical literature, without these grammatical studies. And why? Because the bases from which his perceptions flow, are factitious and untrue. Among the earlier and more recent great thinkers of England, I am tempted to give the opinion of two-John Locke and Herbert Spencer. Mr. Locke says (Education, Vol. 2, Section 162), "Men learn lan- ́ guage for the ordinary interests of society and communication of thoughts in common life, without any further design in their use of them. And for this purpose, the original way of learning a language, by conversation, not only serves well enough, but is to be preferred as the most expedite, proper and natural. Therefore to this use of language, one may answer that grammar is not necessary." In the study of sociology (Chapter 11th, Political Bias), in speaking of results being disproportionate to appliances, Mr. Spencer says: "It is so, too, with discipline, and with the agencies established for discipline. Take as an instance, the use of language. From his early days, the boy, whose father can afford to give him a fashionable education, is drilled in grammar, practised in parsing, tested in detecting errors of speech. After his public school career, during which words, their meaning and their right application, almost exclusively occupy him, he passes through a University, where a large, and often the larger part of his attention is still given to

literary culture, models in style, in prose and poetry being daily before him. So much for the preparation-now for the performance. It is notorious that commentators on the classics are among the most slovenly writers of English. Readers of Punch will remember how, years ago, the Provost and Headmaster of Eton were made to furnish food for laughter, by quotations from a letter they had published. Recently the Head-master of Winchester has given us, in entire unconsciousness of its defects, a sample of the English which long study of language produces. If from these teachers, who are literally the select of the select, we turn to men otherwise selected, mostly out of the same highly disciplined class-men who are distilled into the House of Commons, and then re-distilled into the ministry, we are again disappointed." I can farther illustrate my meaning, in my own case. In my youth, while attending a Branch of the Michigan State University, among other branches, I studied Chemistry. At the close of the year, I passed a creditable examination in that study; I could give formulas for all the chemical compounds, and name the equiv. alents for all the acids and salts mentioned in the text book; but had my life depended on the issue, I could not have told the difference between Glauber's salt and saltpetre, had they been placed before me. I knew that the one was the sulphate of soda, and the other was the nitrate of potash, and that was all I knew about it. My thoughts were confined wholly to the book. I thought I understood chemistry, but I was undeceived by a painful and mortifying experience. I will say this, however, in behalf of the Institution, for which I have a high esteem, the University had been but recently established and was but poorly endowed, as was the case with all those Western institutions in early times.

We confine ourselves altogether too much to the text books, and too often allow our scholars to pass along satisfied with what they learn from them. All ideas, thoughts, memories, reflections and imaginations, must depend, for their truthfulness and vigor, their vividness and permanence, upon the perceptions of external objects and their relations. If these external objects are books and the learner has had no previous experience to serve as a basis to judge of their truthfulness, he stands upon a slender foundation. What is required is a supply of

suitable objects to produce the first order of manifestations. Knowledge obtained from books alone, is always associated with the books. How many study physiology without thinking that the vital processes they are learning are constantly going on in their own bodies? or of applying a single rule of hygiene ! The fact that so many have risen to eminence in spite of obstacles, and in the absence of school facilities, should teach us an important lesson. Instead of books and already discovered knowledge, they were compelled to grapple with unsolved problems; instead of learning formulas and drilling on rules, they were experimenting to ascertain the principles upon which the formulas and rules were based; they dealt in a world of realities; their perceptions being true, they reflected truth; having nothing but their own unaided efforts to rely upon, they employed them to the best advantage.

We may observe how feeble and indistinct the second order of manifestations is in our scholars, by requiring them to define words, or write out their impressions of the most familiar objects.

While we have a world of objects under our feet and around us, and in the heavens above us, do not let us think that there are no objects upon which to found a more rational and effective method of teaching.

The hints here given seem to indicate more practical and effectual methods of teaching, which may be somewhat elaborated on a future occasion. E. J. S.

PEEPS THROUGH THE DOOR OF A KINDERGARTEN. NO. II.

Little Marjorie is only five years old, and has never been away from her mamma a day, so I was obliged to do just what I liked to do that first morning of her Kindergarten life.

"Will you go with me, and sit close by me all the time?" was her first question, when she awoke.

"Yes, dear," I said, "I will go with you, and may go after you at one o'clock."

No, but I want you to stay all the time with me."

When we went in the children were all assembled in the large

gymnastic hall, for devotions and opening exercises. Marjorie is very timid, and did not half like being set down in a little chair between two little girls of her own age. I was afraid she would cry, which is usually hor last resort in trying circumstances, but just as I expected to see the first quiver of her lip, the little girl at her right hand, obeying a private sign from Miss Hamilton, moved her chair up closer to Marjorie, and took hold of her hand. The understanding that is often established between children of the same age, at a slight acquaintance, took place, and I had no further fear for my little girl.

After the singing and prayer, in which all the children took part, three chords on the piano brought them to their feet, and they repeated a short psalm in concert. I was much pleased to hear how distinctly each word was spoken. Then came some beautiful movement plays, which one must see to appreciate. The children, about a hundred in all, sat in a large semicircle about the room, and even the youngest among them were very quiet and orderly, though they all seemed to take an interest in the plays. There was one about a little bird flying to its mamma with a letter in its mouth, and a dainty little girl, with long golden curls, went flying about the room, waving her arms in a graceful movement like a bird. She knelt down at the feet of a boy, who sang in a clear voice, looking straight into her face all the while, something like " Fly away, pretty bird, for I cannot go with you." The words were sung first in German, and afterwards in English.

One of the prettiest plays was called the fishes, and five or six boys and girls ran about the floor with a slow gliding movement of the arms, like the swimming of a fish. The words were sung in German, and toward the last of the play the fishes swam up to Miss Hamilton, who sat at the upper end of the room, and sang a verse to her, she singing something in reply, the song closing with a bow from the children to their teacher.

One pretty play called "The Mouse," was represented by four little ones, three with joined hands forming a trap, and one, the youngest in the room, the mouse. She was a bright-eyed child, and looked roguish, creeping about with her hands on her knees, and stooping almost to the floor.