CONCENTRATION OF STUDIES AS A MEANS OF DEVELOPING CHARACTER.

BY CHARLES DE GARMO, PRESIDENT OF SWARTHMORE COLLEGE, PENNSYLVANIA.

In this topic there are involved the most perplexing problems of pedagogy and psychology. A wilderness of words have been uttered on the subject of concentration since the Cleveland meeting, and as in the days of the Sophists each man seems to regard himself as the measure of truth. The problem of the development of character did not begin last year, but had its origin at least as far back as the time of Protagoras, the noblest of the Sophists. The possibility of teaching virtue was stoutly maintained by Socrates, but who will assert that he pronounced the final word? Kant emphasized the antithesis between the intelligible and the empirical character, declaring that the seat of morality is in self-determination alone. Modern psychology has tried to learn how character grows by investigating the influence of transient and permanent interests upon the will. I have tried to reconcile experience and reason by showing that the rational or free will is by nature subject to evolution, like life, feeling, and knowledge. Is the doctrine of inherent interest, and with it empirical psychology in study, merely an ignis fatuus? Are the insight and disposition cultivated by correlating important knowledge in the pupil's mind to be regarded as but fragile reeds for our support? Here is indeed a mare's nest of logical difficulties, but I shall take the Anglo-Saxon's privilege of ignoring them for a few plain considerations that have a manifest bearing in the world of practical affairs.

It might fairly be expected that this paper would devote itself to a psychological analysis, showing just how the organization of knowledge may be expected to influence the growth of character. That work has, however, been attempted by others. I must, therefore, beg the indulgence of those who anticipated such a treatment, since I intend to confine myself to such considerations as appeal directly to experience and current educational thought. Assuming, therefore, what some may regard as the main proposition to be proved, viz., that a rational correlation of knowledge will favorably affect character, three things seem to me to be involved--what we shall correlate, how we shall correlate, and to what end we shall correlate; or, in other words, the kind of character the schools, and especially the city schools, should attempt to develop.

It must be assumed at the outset, that a civilized country will, so far as it works intelligibly, develop a character that can work efficiently in a civilized state of society. Persian, Grecian, Roman, Mediæval, Puritan, Ecclesiastical notions of character are no longer valid as ends, since the world has long since transcended those conceptions of civilization. But if we look about us, we see that on every side, in politics, education, industry, business, and common living, the rule is organization. Every enterprise, public or private, is characterized by the idea of regulated coöperation. Institutions are the universal rule. Men work together for common ends in organized groups, both large and small. If, now, it be asked, which type of education-that of isolated or of correlated branches of study-is most in accord with the methods of modern civilization, I apprehend there can be but one answer. Granted that public education is an important factor in the development of character, it can be seen that any arrangement of study whereby isolation of faculties and knowledge and capacities is promoted works against rather than for the kind of character most desirable under present conditions. It is equally evident, on the other hand, that any organization of studies, which promotes insight into modern social life and disposition favorable to its ideals, works for rather than against the realization of the institutional type of character.

I cannot in this paper enter upon an extended discussion of the problem of concentration, which I conceive to be such a correlation of subject-matter as will tend to make instruction more intelligible, interesting, and valuable to the pupil. There is but one line of practical suggestions regarding the kind of correlation available, and presumably of service in the development of character. That I desire to enlarge upon. It appertains to the formation of what may be called apperceptive centers in each prominent branch of study. Every concrete branch of learning taught in the schools has a series. of what may be called root ideas, upon which its significance depends. Sometimes, as in mathematics and the exact sciences, these root ideas are connected by causal or logical relations; sometimes, as in history, geography, and literature, no necessary sequence exists. In any case, however, the selection of topics and their sequence in presentation to the child will depend largely upon psychological considerations. The proposition I wish to emphasize is that each topic taught shall be built up into an apperceiving center in the child's mind. An illustration may be taken from geography. The notion "canal" is frequently met with. Upon its first prominent occurrence in the study, let some concrete illustration of the canal be mastered. Some of the prominent elements to be made vivid are as follows: The ditch, the water level and supply, and the locks,

which may be represented on the board or modeled from pasteboard by the children. Then the canal boats, their structure and propulsion. Why should mules be so much used in this age of steam and electricity? Finally, the produce carried, its starting point and destination. When a concrete case has been mastered, a basis of understanding and interest has been laid for all the varieties of canal in the world. Without departing much from the leading purpose of the lesson, much related information concerning other forms of transportation may be taught, together with related information about the configuration of the land, the sources of supply for the canal, freight, and so following. In like manner the other agencies of transportation, such as railroads, street cars, elevated roads, ships, and steamboats may be similarly presented. So of a large number of geographical ideas. Arithmetic, too, has its root ideas, as McClellan and Dewey have so well shown in their "Psychology of Number." So, likewise, have grammar, reading, history, botany, zoology. Any teacher can select the important topics in each of these subjects, can build each up into a center of understanding and interest, and can relate these topics to each other within and without the main line of sequence. This form of correlation is assisted by the juxtaposition made natural by common principles of development, as in the theory of culture epochs for culture subjects, but it is not dependent upon such arrangement. This plan renders concentration (or correlation, as I prefer to call it), a principle to be observed in the recitation, rather than a program to be followed. The former is available for every teacher; the latter, perhaps, only for the expert.

The conscious building up of apperceptive centers in each subject about which shall be associated striking features of related knowledge, has several important advantages. It encourages the teacher to make his lessons rich with concrete matter and stimulating through their constant challenge to thought. Even the torpid mind awakes to the realization that learning is allied to life, study becomes attractive, insight and interest deepen, and gradually there is developed a permanent healthy attitude of mind toward life and its work, its duties and opportunities. Sane views of conduct are generated; healthy modes of feeling become habits of the mind. The child becomes, in short, a citizen; not a mere individual inhabitant.

More, however, than we need to construct a theory of concentration do we need to reconstruct our theory of character. This assertion is based on the fact that our prevailing ideals of character were formed when society in this country was in its pioneer state. At the beginning of the present century only some three per cent of our population were in cities, and even then these so-called cities were

little more than overgrown towns, or groups of villages. This being the case, it is natural that our conceptions of character should be based upon primitive conditions of society, which in our great munic ipalities no longer exist.

A city represents a system of reciprocal activities, duties, concessions, and benefits; the country in a primitive state is a place for independent, and, in the economic sense, non-social living. The essential idea of pioneer and rural life is isolation, independence, nonresponsibility for others; that of the city is reciprocity, coöperation, mutual responsibility. Social coöperation in the city, with respect to health, comfort, and prosperity, is a necessity; in the country, the chief end is companionship. At the present time nearly a third of our population is concentrated in cities. New York and its environment contains more people than were in the thirteen colonies at the close of the Revolution. Yet even in these vast centers of population the ideals of a primitive community still prevail; for the dominant ideal of character in this country is that of an essentially non-social individualism. The European ferment during the sev enteenth and eighteenth centuries drove the strong, independent characters out of that continent into the wilderness of the New World. Here the essentially primitive conditions that prevailed for 250 years developed all the initial non-social instincts among the strongest members of a strong race. Glorious as have been the past results of this personal independence in the subduing of a continent and in the defense of the nation against foreign foes or internal dissensions, we find no orator to praise, no poet to sing the glories of this spirit when brought under the conditions of our modern urban life. The story of our city government is one of inefficiency, rapacity, and fraud.

These primitive ideals of character are found on every hand, even in our oldest cities, and they are almost universal in rural districts. One may see the results of this conception under city conditions best, perhaps, when we consider the influx to cities from villages and rural communities. The newcomer to the city would preserve the privileges of the district from which he came—a yard, a stable, a rubbish heap, perhaps, a well. But if, on the other hand, he demands privileges, he is equally ready to grant them. He is content to allow one man to drink milk and another whisky, nor is he disturbed if one chooses to keep a cow and the other a saloon. Should the water supply be foul, he seeks to protect himself individually by bringing water from a spring or by buying a filter. His neighbors may look out for themselves. Why should he trouble himself to prevent their drinking the microbes of typhoid fever or to protect them from other filth diseases? Primitive morality does

what it can in charity from pure pity for the individual beggar, but it acknowledges no responsibility for changing the conditions that produce beggary. It is the lack of civic morality that allows political and corporate rapacity to fasten themselves upon the city. When it is proposed to have the municipality undertake some important work of improvement costing a million dollars, the nonsocial citizen is horrified at the taxes involved, and promptly votes against the proposition. But he constantly allows a corporation having the capital to make the investment and then to bleed the city for half a century. When boodlers gain control of the city machinery for purposes of extravagance and fraud, though he may grieve at the wreck of public business he never thinks of making it his own.

The same non-social spirit that permits offensive sights, sounds, and smells, saloons, and slum, unsanitary conditions, poor illumination and transportation, and slovenly or corrupt public service in general, also allows hordes of children to roam the streets untouched by the refining influences of the school. An effective system of compulsory education that would enable us to assimilate rapidly and easily the ever-growing tide of foreign life cast upon our shores is impossible, because it clashes with the non-social instincts of personal independence. The inevitable result of primitive instincts when placed in the city environment is public discomfort, the presence of infectious diseases, political corruption and corporate exaction, together with ignorance and hopeless poverty and degradation for a large part of the community. It is to the city schools that we must look chiefly for the development of what may be called civic patriotism. Primitive, non-social instincts must be supplemented by social or civic instincts. We now put much emphasis upon the development of national patriotism. But is the chief lack here? Is not the integrity of the nation safe? Do not the unintelligent as well as the intelligent respond to the call of country? Did not the poor white of the South and the ignorant foreigner of the North fight shoulder to shoulder with the best men of their respective armies during our late war? Where was there ever more undaunted courage and fidelity on either side than in the Russian assaults upon the Turks at Plevna? We need now to put the emphasis upon civic rather than upon national patriotism. The latter in its non-social form is an inextinguishable instinct even of primitive peoples, but the former is the last and best product of civilization. A bare suggestion of war in this country can set the land ablaze with military ardor, but who can arouse a corresponding enthusiasm in the civic warfare against corruption, inefficiency, ignorance, and compulsory poverty?