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Page 28
It is certain that most schoolroom work, till it has become habitual and
automatic, is repulsive, and cannot be done without voluntarily jerking
back the attention to it every now and then. This is inevitable, let the
teacher do what he will.
It flows from the inherent nature of the subjects and of the learning
mind. The repulsive processes of verbal memorizing, of discovering steps
of mathematical identity, and the like, must borrow their interest at
first from purely external sources, mainly from the personal interests
with which success in mastering them is associated, such as gaining of
rank, avoiding punishment, not being beaten by a difficulty and the
like. Without such borrowed interest, the child could not attend to them
at all. But in these processes what becomes interesting enough to be
attended to is not thereby attended to _without effort_. Effort always
has to go on, derived interest, for the most part, not awakening
attention that is _easy_, however spontaneous it may now have to be
called. The interest which the teacher, by his utmost skill, can lend to
the subject, proves over and over again to be only an interest
sufficient _to let loose the effort_. The teacher, therefore, need never
concern himself about _inventing_ occasions where effort must be called
into play. Let him still awaken whatever sources of interest in the
subject he can by stirring up connections between it and the pupil's
nature, whether in the line of theoretic curiosity, of personal
interest, or of pugnacious impulse. The laws of mind will then bring
enough pulses of effort into play to keep the pupil exercised in the
direction of the subject. There is, in fact, no greater school of effort
than the steady struggle to attend to immediately repulsive or difficult
objects of thought which have grown to interest us through their
association as means, with some remote ideal end.
The Herbartian doctrine of interest ought not, therefore, in principle
to be reproached with making pedagogy soft. If it do so, it is because
it is unintelligently carried on. Do not, then, for the mere sake of
discipline, command attention from your pupils in thundering tones. Do
not too often beg it from them as a favor, nor claim it as a right, nor
try habitually to excite it by preaching the importance of the subject.
Sometimes, indeed, you must do these things; but, the more you have to
do them, the less skilful teacher you will show yourself to be. Elicit
interest from within, by the warmth with which you care for the topic
yourself, and by following the laws I have laid down.
If the topic be highly abstract, show its nature by concrete examples.
If it be unfamiliar, trace some point of analogy in it with the known.
If it be inhuman, make it figure as part of a story. If it be
difficult, couple its acquisition with some prospect of personal gain.
Above all things, make sure that it shall run through certain inner
changes, since no unvarying object can possibly hold the mental field
for long. Let your pupil wander from one aspect to another of your
subject, if you do not wish him to wander from it altogether to
something else, variety in unity being the secret of all interesting
talk and thought. The relation of all these things to the native genius
of the instructor is too obvious to need comment again.
One more point, and I am done with the subject of attention. There is
unquestionably a great native variety among individuals in the type of
their attention. Some of us are naturally scatterbrained, and others
follow easily a train of connected thoughts without temptation to swerve
aside to other subjects. This seems to depend on a difference between
individuals in the type of their field of consciousness. In some persons
this is highly focalized and concentrated, and the focal ideas
predominate in determining association. In others we must suppose the
margin to be brighter, and to be filled with something like meteoric
showers of images, which strike into it at random, displacing the focal
ideas, and carrying association in their own direction. Persons of the
latter type find their attention wandering every minute, and must bring
it back by a voluntary pull. The others sink into a subject of
meditation deeply, and, when interrupted, are 'lost' for a moment before
they come back to the outer world.
The possession of such a steady faculty of attention is unquestionably a
great boon. Those who have it can work more rapidly, and with less
nervous wear and tear. I am inclined to think that no one who is without
it naturally can by any amount of drill or discipline attain it in a
very high degree. Its amount is probably a fixed characteristic of the
individual. But I wish to make a remark here which I shall have occasion
to make again in other connections. It is that no one need deplore
unduly the inferiority in himself of any one elementary faculty. This
concentrated type of attention is an elementary faculty: it is one of
the things that might be ascertained and measured by exercises in the
laboratory. But, having ascertained it in a number of persons, we could
never rank them in a scale of actual and practical mental efficiency
based on its degrees. The total mental efficiency of a man is the
resultant of the working together of all his faculties. He is too
complex a being for any one of them to have the casting vote. If any
one of them do have the casting vote, it is more likely to be the
strength of his desire and passion, the strength of the interest he
takes in what is proposed. Concentration, memory, reasoning power,
inventiveness, excellence of the senses,--all are subsidiary to this.
No matter how scatter-brained the type of a man's successive fields
of consciousness may be, if he really _care_ for a subject, he will
return to it incessantly from his incessant wanderings, and first and
last do more with it, and get more results from it, than another
person whose attention may be more continuous during a given interval,
but whose passion for the subject is of a more languid and less
permanent sort. Some of the most efficient workers I know are of the
ultra-scatterbrained type. One friend, who does a prodigious quantity of
work, has in fact confessed to me that, if he wants to get ideas on any
subject, he sits down to work at something else, his best results coming
through his mind-wanderings. This is perhaps an epigrammatic
exaggeration on his part; but I seriously think that no one of us need
be too much distressed at his own shortcomings in this regard. Our mind
may enjoy but little comfort, may be restless and feel confused; but it
may be extremely efficient all the same.
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