|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 27
But, when all is said and done, the fact remains that some teachers have
a naturally inspiring presence, and can make their exercises
interesting, while others simply cannot. And psychology and general
pedagogy here confess their failure, and hand things over to the deeper
springs of human personality to conduct the task.
* * * * *
A brief reference to the physiological theory of the attentive process
may serve still further to elucidate these practical remarks, and
confirm them by showing them from a slightly different point of view.
What is the attentive process, psychologically considered? Attention to
an object is what takes place whenever that object most completely
occupies the mind. For simplicity's sake suppose the object be an object
of sensation,--a figure approaching us at a distance on the road. It is
far off, barely perceptible, and hardly moving: we do not know with
certainty whether it is a man or not. Such an object as this, if
carelessly looked at, may hardly catch our attention at all. The optical
impression may affect solely the marginal consciousness, while the
mental focus keeps engaged with rival things. We may indeed not 'see' it
till some one points it out. But, if so, how does he point it out? By
his finger, and by describing its appearance,--by creating a premonitory
image of _where_ to look and of _what_ to expect to see. This
premonitory image is already an excitement of the same nerve-centres
that are to be concerned with the impression. The impression comes, and
excites them still further; and now the object enters the focus of the
field, consciousness being sustained both by impression and by
preliminary idea. But the maximum of attention to it is not yet reached.
Although we see it, we may not care for it; it may suggest nothing
important to us; and a rival stream of objects or of thoughts may
quickly take our mind away. If, however, our companion defines it in a
significant way, arouses in the mind a set of experiences to be
apprehended from it,--names it an enemy or as a messenger of important
tidings,--the residual and marginal ideas now aroused, so far from being
its rivals, become its associates and allies. They shoot together into
one system with it; they converge upon it; they keep it steadily in
focus; the mind attends to it with maximum power.
The attentive process, therefore, at its maximum may be physiologically
symbolized by a brain-cell played on in two ways, from without and from
within. Incoming currents from the periphery arouse it, and collateral
currents from the centres of memory and imagination re-enforce these.
In this process the incoming impression is the newer element; the ideas
which re-enforce and sustain it are among the older possessions of the
mind. And the maximum of attention may then be said to be found whenever
we have a systematic harmony or unification between the novel and the
old. It is an odd circumstance that neither the old nor the new, by
itself, is interesting: the absolutely old is insipid; the absolutely
new makes no appeal at all. The old _in_ the new is what claims the
attention,--the old with a slightly new turn. No one wants to hear a
lecture on a subject completely disconnected with his previous
knowledge, but we all like lectures on subjects of which we know a
little already, just as, in the fashions, every year must bring its
slight modification of last year's suit, but an abrupt jump from the
fashion of one decade into another would be distasteful to the eye.
The genius of the interesting teacher consists in sympathetic divination
of the sort of material with which the pupil's mind is likely to be
already spontaneously engaged, and in the ingenuity which discovers
paths of connection from that material to the matters to be newly
learned. The principle is easy to grasp, but the accomplishment is
difficult in the extreme. And a knowledge of such psychology as this
which I am recalling can no more make a good teacher than a knowledge of
the laws of perspective can make a landscape painter of effective skill.
A certain doubt may now occur to some of you. A while ago, apropos of
the pugnacious instinct, I spoke of our modern pedagogy as being
possibly too 'soft.' You may perhaps here face me with my own words, and
ask whether the exclusive effort on the teacher's part to keep the
pupil's spontaneous interest going, and to avoid the more strenuous path
of voluntary attention to repulsive work, does not savor also of
sentimentalism. The greater part of schoolroom work, you say, must, in
the nature of things, always be repulsive. To face uninteresting
drudgery is a good part of life's work. Why seek to eliminate it from
the schoolroom or minimize the sterner law?
A word or two will obviate what might perhaps become a serious
misunderstanding here.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|