Psychology for teachers

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

I. STATES OF CONSCIOUSNESS 1

II. ASSOCIATION 23

Preface

The present volume was written to meet the requirements of those who came to the author to receive aid in preparing themselves for the profession of teaching ; and the warm reception accorded it by teachers, both in England and in this country, proves that its publication has done much to popularize the study of Educational Psychology.

In the treatment of the subject, no topic has been touched upon which has not been illustrated adequately by facts taken from experience ; and the whole trend of the work is toward the cultivation of right methods of instruction. There appears to have been ever present in the author's mind a desire to furnish aid to teachers in all matters relating to their professional work. In short, it would be difficult to overstate the practical value of the book, since it deals with the problems of school life in a manner calculated to develop interest and arouse enthusiasm. Although in no sense a compendium of the subject, it possesses the merit of stimulating thoughtful and correct views in regard to education ; and no better basis could be furnished for the discussion of the theory and practice of teaching than that which is herein set forth.

The value of a thorough pedagogical training for

vii yiii PREFACE

those preparing to become teachers has received general recognition during recent years. The improved equipment possessed by those now entering upon their labors has excited the attention of older teachers. The result has been a desire on the part of those who have been long in service to do something to compensate for former deficiencies in theoretical training and so enable them to compete successfully with younger members of the profession. In response to the higher demands made upon teachers, within a few years departments of pedagogy have been established in our universities and colleges ; and Summer Schools for the training of teachers have grown in popularity, since they afford opportunity for receiving such aid and suggestion in regard to practical teaching as are calculated to improve the character of class instruction.

Psychology has always been recognized as a most valuable disciplinary study ; but it has remained for the students of pedagogy to show the importance of its bearing upon educational problems.

To be really serviceable to teachers in elementary schools, a work upon practical psychology requires for its author one who possesses a thorough familiarity with the difficulties involved in the instruction of young children. From no other source can the teacher expect such aid as is required. The charm of the present treatise lies in the naturalness of the presentation, and the perfect accord between the subject-matter and the method. The student is provided Avith the proper bases of instruction and the best methods of teaching — each and all in strict harmony with the laws of mental growth.

PREFACE ix

Every earnest teacher must have been assailed by doubts as to the best methods to be adopted in special cases. While no work on the theory of teaching will suffice to meet every requirement, there is still a definite gain to be derived from a consideration of the course followed by people similarly situated. It is far better that one should thus take advantage of the experience of others, than that he should rely wholly upon his own efforts. An undue amount of harm may be the portion of those entrusted to our care, in case we reject the aid of others. The teacher who has had no advantages in the way of assistance and advice, when such services would have been most welcome, may well feel a sense of gratification when he finds that the methods he has followed for years are defended as being thoroughly in accord with the accepted psychological theories of the day.

The scope of the treatment is such as to commend itself to the student. While the author bestows due care upon the explanation of terms employed, so that no doubt may exist as to the meaning which he desires to attach to each, his chief motive is not to teach psychology. Mental processes are viewed in the light of the aid they afford to teaching, and due consideration is given to the kind and amount of effort required by the pupil while acquiring knowledge. The chapters upon Association and Experience contain a large amount of '^ food for reflection ^^ and deserve the most careful study. The ideal attitude of pupil and teacher toward each other is developed incidentally and upon the highest moral grounds. We cannot fail to appreciate most highly the qualities of one who advises that over the lintel of every

X PREFACE

school should be engraved the precept : '^ Establish a background of sympathy." The perfect assimilation of such a sentiment by the great army of teachers, would result in the introduction of a highly civilizing influence into the schoolroom.

Throughout the book we find allusions to the various educational movements of the day. From certain statements it may be fairly assumed that the author is an advocate of Manual Training in Elementary Schools ; that he would give unqualified support to Nature Study in its various forms ; and that he would regard well-regulated exercises in Physical Culture as a necessary part of a school curriculum. To an American student of pedagogy, it is interesting to note the opinions of educational writers on the other side of the Atlantic. A thorough comparison of different systems of instruction cannot be undertaken by fair-minded men without being productive of benefit.

When considering the special purpose of a work like the one before us, it does not appear appropriate to comment upon the philosophical views of the author. That he has felt the influence of the associationalism of his nation may be regarded as a fortunate circumstance, since the educational world owes a great debt of gratitude to the school whose chief representative has given such earnest attention to the physical, mental, and moral education of children.

In order that the greatest amount of benefit may be derived from a study of '' Psychology for Teachers," the student would do well to make constant reference to some good work on the elements of psychology.

About two years ago, it was my good fortune to

PREFACE

XI find a copy of '' Psychology for Teachers'' upon the shelves of one of the leading booksellers of this city. After a careful examination, it proved to be the book needed to meet the requirements of a class conducted under the auspices of *' The New York Society of Pedagogy/' and was therefore selected for that purpose. The discussion of the matter contained in the volume proved satisfactory to more than two hundred teachers. In view of my high appreciation of the book resulting from this practical test of its excellences, I have accepted with pleasure the request of the American publishers to prepare the Preface for a new edition.

Heney W. Jameson.

New York City, JunCf 1898,

PSYCHOLOGY FOE TEACHEES

Chapter I. States Of Cois'sciousness

I WOULD ask you, reader, to try and recall what has passed through your mind during the last five or six minutes. You will probably have some diflBculty in doing so. You have not, you will say, been thinking of anything in particular. But, unless you have been asleep or in a trance, something was passing through your mind ; little perhaps that was definite, but much that was indefinite.

Now vary the observation. Look round the room in which you are sitting. Let your eyes range from object to object for a minute or two, and then consider what has been passing through your mind. You have seen, perhaps, in succession the clock, the fireplace, the arm-chair, the table, a vase of flowers, this picture, that print or photograph, and so on. Some of these may have reminded you of past experiences — the print of the picture from which it has been engraved and where you first saw it ; the flowers of the wood in which you picked them and of the companion who was with you. The clock may have brought to mind an appointment you have to keep ; the fireplace, that a little judicious use of the poker may be advisable. Again vary the observation. Run over in memory the events of your last holidays, where you went, what you did, whom you met ; and then once more consider what has been passing through your mind.

All the time you are making these elementary observations you are conscious. That which is in your mind at any moment is a state of consciousness j during the few minutes occupied by your observations there was a series or sequence of states of consciousness ; and such states of consciousness are passing through your mind all day long. Psycliology is the study of the nature, mode of origin, and manner of sequence of these states of conscious7iess. You alone of all the world can say what was the nature and what the sequence of your states of consciousness ; and they are the only states of consciousness with which you can become directly acquainted. Hence, if you would learn anything of psychology, you must carefully examine your own mind and the nature of your own experience. Such examination is called introspection. But by means of language you can compare notes with your neighbors ; and by the same means I can communicate to you, through the printed page, the results of my own study. Moreover, by other signs we can learn something of what is passing through the minds of our companions. But we can only interpret the language and the actions of others in terms of our own states of consciousness. If I say that I have seen an ox.

you understand me because you have seen many oxen. If I say that I have been examining the heart of a crayfish, you may not understand me, or very imperfectly ; you have probably never seen one, and therefore cannot interpret my words in terms of your own experience. We must always remember how limited is the experience of children, how difficult it must be for them to interpret much that we say to them, and how • apt they are through imagination to form false ideas very difficult to correct.

Now, states of consciousness are exceedingly complex — that is to say, a number of things may be in one^s mind at once in any moment of consciousness. It is therefore necessary to analyze our states of consciousnesss so as to ascertain the elements of which they are made up. Let us suppose that we are looking at the picture on the wall. There it is in what we may call the focus of vision. But it suggests certain thoughts which are also present to consciousness. And thus we see dimly the wall on which it hangs, and much besides in what we may call the margin of vision. Realize for yourself by actual observation how much you do see indistinctly in this way. Furthermore, though we may pay little attention to them, there are other things present in what we may term the margin of consciousness, sounds such as the ticking of the clock and the flicker of the fire-flame, scents such as that of the flowers in the vase, pressures from the position of the body, and that general feeling which we call either freshness or fatigue. We are apt to consider only that on which our attention is specially fixed — that which is in ihQ focus of consciousness, and to neglect the other elements which lie in the margin of consciousness. And I would again urge 3'ou to realize for yourself, by actual observation, without which we can do nothing of value in psychology, how much there is in the margin of consciousness of which you are not fully conscious, but merely subconscious.

The first result of our anal3^sis of a state of consciousness is therefore the distinction between what is focal and what is merely marginal. It is the focal element to which we attend ; indeed, we may say that attention is the clear, accurate, and decisive focussing of the central element in consciousness ; or, otherwise stated, that attention differentiates the focus from the margin. In children this differentiation is probably less perfect, less rapid, and less under control than in older people. We must be ready to make allowances for them in this respect. The power of bringing out the focus to the neglect of the margin is a valuable gift. It varies a good deal in different individuals. Some people can read a book and follow a difficult train of reasoning amid a buzz of conversation, or in spite of the distraction of a street band. With others the influence of the margin is more disturbing, and the attention is easily distracted. On the other hand, the observant person is one in whom occurrences in the margin of consciousness can rapidly and readily be made focal. For example, a naturalist, when he is out for a walk with you, catches a hundred sights and sounds which for you remain unnoticed. A mouse in the grass, an insect on yonder flower, the note of a rare bird, have caught his observant eye and ear, while yours have been blind and deaf to these sights and sounds. This, too, is a valuable gift. Fortunate is he who can both focus rapidly and clearly, and yet retains a sensitive margin in the field of consciousness. We should therefore encourage the cultivation of both these gifts in those in whose mental development we are interested.

Let us now consider the focal elements in consciousness, and see what they are, and how they are brought to the focus.

As I look out of window, my eye falls on a distant church-spire, which stands out clear-cut against a background of blue sky. So long as I fix my eyes upon it, that spire is in the focus of consciousness. It forms a sensory im2Jressio7i. As we look about from object to object, we have a great number of visual impressions of this kind which are brought to the focus by stimuli which affect the retinas of our eyes. While I am looking at the church-spire, however, I hear the chirping of sparrows. At first this is only marginal in consciousness, but presently I cease to attend to the church-spire and listen attentively. The notes of the sparrows are then focal to my consciousness as auditory impressions. In like manner I may have olfactory impressions, or impressions of smell, if I attend to the scent of the flowers in my room ; gustatory impressions, or impressions of taste, if I sip a sweet or bitter liquid ; impressions of touch, if a fly settles on my hand or forehead ; impressions of warmth or of cold, if I dip my hands in hot or cold water. Forgive the iteration of the first personal pronoun ; I am anxious to enforce that observation must he personal and individual.

These are impressions of the special senses. All of them are due to stimuli coming from outside our bodies and affecting special parts of our delicate bodily organization — the eye, ear, nose, palate, or skin. Eemember that we are using the term impression for that which, through the instrumentality of these stimuli, is brought to the focus of consciousness. A vast number of stimuli are constantly affecting us, often through several sense-organs, or it may be through all the sense-organs at the same time. Of these, some predominate over the others and give rise to the focal impressions ; the rest, which are subordinate, give rise to the marginal elements in consciousness. But any of these subordinate groups of stimula may attract the attention, and thus become predominant and give rise to impressions. As I look at the church spire, for example, a particularly vigorous and chirpy sparrow may draw my attention so as to make his note focal. Or a whiff of scent from the flowers may lead me to snuff the air and try to determine whether it is the lilac or the mignonette which chiefly perfumes my room.

Such impressions form a large part of the raw material of consciousness. There are, however, other impressions, less conspicuous and familiar, but of considerable importance in our daily life. Close your eyes and slowly move 3^our head from side to side, turning it on the axis of your neck, and carefully attend to what you feel. You feel perhaps the rubbing of the skin of your neck against your collar ; you feel, too, movements in your neck ; but you feel also a curious sensation in your head which, if you continue the movements, appears to be akin to dizzinese. There is, associated with the organ of hearing, but independent of that sense, a delicate piece of apparatus which makes us acquainted with changes in direction of the movements of our head or our body as a whole. This it is which probably gives us the sensation above alluded to. Most of us are unaware of its existence, though it probably is of use to us in our active life. The effects of the stimuli from this organ are for the most part marginal or subconscious, and we seldom attend to them so as to bring them to the focus of consciousness. For many animals they are probably of more importance than they are for us. We may call these wipressions of direction ; but we must remember that we seldom focus them as impressions. They generally take their place unnoticed in the margin of consciousness.

Now make some further experiments and observations, so that you may assure yourself of the reality of motor impressions — that is to say, impressions of the movements of your limbs. Look at the clockface or any other particular object ; shut your eyes ; and, not too hurriedly, point your finger at the object. Do this twice or thrice, still with your eyes shut, and note your states of consciousness. You will, I think, notice two things. First, you picture to yourself, though you do not see, the movements of your hand and arm : this we may neglect for the present. Secondly, you feel pretty clearly the movements of and in the limb as you bring it into position. Stimuli from the joints, skin, muscles, and so forth, give rise, when you pay special attention to them, to motor impressions. It is possible that you have never had occasion to pay attention to these before. They have remained for the most part as marginal elements in your consciousness. I am desirous that you should fully realize that such motor feelings are elements in consciousness. Draw a circle in the air or on the blackboard with your eyes shut : you will feel with surprising distinctness all the movements of your arm. You will also draw nearly as good a circle as you could with your eyes open. Walk about the room : every change of position of your legs is felt. Let your eyes wander from object to object and pay attention to their movements in the sockets : a little practice will enable you to feel them quite clearly. Now hold up a pencil or penholder about eight inches from your face and in the line of vision of the picture on the far wall. Alternately fix your eyes on the end of the pencil and on the picture, and attend to the feelings in and round your eyes. Do you not feel quite plainly your eyes going, so to speak, from the one to the other ? The eyes have to be accommodated first for near vision, then for far ; and when you attend to the matter, you focus in consciousness these motor impressions of accommodation. Generally, however, these elements in consciousness are merely marginal and subconscious.

There is one more group of impressions for us to take note of. They are due to stimuli from the internal organs and from parts at some little distance beneath the skin. Lay your finger lightly on your neck : you have an impression of touch on the skin of the neck. Now press with increasing vigor : you are conscious of an impression from the deeper parts of the neck, probably accompanied by incipient pain. This impression is quite different from that of touch, and, though it may originate in the muscles, is quite diiferent also from a motor impression. Hunger, thirst, fatigue are probably of this kind. We need not linger over these internal impressions — generally due to pressures, strains, or some unwonted condition of the parts concerned ; but we may notice that they are generally suffused with pleasure, or, more frequently, with pain or discomfort.

Let us now sum up what we have learnt concerning impressions. They originate from stimuli affecting parts of our bodies ; and they occupy the focus of consciousness. They may be either —

1. Impressions of the special senses— sight, hear-

ing, taste, smell, touch, heat, cold, or direction of movements of the head ;

2. Motor impressions ; or —

3. Internal impressions, such as pressures, strains,

hunger, thirst, fatigue.

When the stimuli which may give rise to impressions are subordinate to other more powerful stimuli, they give rise to marginal elements of which we are not clearly and distinctly conscious, but are only indistinctly subconscious. The impressions and the marginal elements, alike due to stimuli, are, however, similar in their nature, and differ only in the fact that whereas the impressions are clear and focal, the marginal elements are indistinct and subconscious.

In our adult years a great deal of the business of life is transacted in the marginal or subconscious region. In matters of skill, for example, though the acquisition and perfecting of control over our bodily activities is focal and demands attention, yet when the skill has been acquired and is well established, the subsequent performance of the activities is to a large extent relegated to the margin. AVe learn to walk, to run, to knit, to play the piano, to ride a bicycle ; and the learning requires constant focal attention. But when the skilful performance of these actions has by practice become perfect, we may do any of these things, and do them well, while the focus of consciousness is occupied with other impressions. The peasant woman knits and walks ; but in the focus of her consciousness is yonder fair-haired girl whom the stalwart young fellow is, quite unnecessarily, helping over the stile. The pianist^s fingers are running softly over the keys ; but his eyes and thought are fixed on his mother's portrait. The cyclist bowls along the road ; but it is the delicately-shaded greenery of the spring that holds his attention. And in these cases the actions are not performed unconsciously, but subconsciously. The cyclist guides his machine, avoids stones in the road, and adjusts his output of energy to the gradient, in response to stimuli coming from without. But the skill he has been at the pains of acquiring has become so far a haMt that it no longer requires his focal attention. Marginal awareness suffices for the guidance and control of his machine. This again is a matter in which I would beg you, reader, to exercise self-observation. Only by doing so will you fully realize how much goes on in the margin of your consciousness. And not only is this true of our active life ; it is true also of our thought. Who does not know, from personal experience, that, perhaps even during a sermon, there are undercurrents of thought ? It is indeed only during the most concentrated attention, if even then, that the undercurrents are wholly absent. In ordinary attention all that we do is to keep these undercurrents duly subordinate.

Sometimes we have to divide our attention, and hold two series of impressions, or two parts of the same series in the focus. Thus, we may read a book and listen to a piece of music or a conversation. Such divided attention is generally rather a strain, and we get the best neither out of the book nor the music. A familiar instance of attending to two parts of a series at the same time is afforded when we are taking notes of a lecture. We are at the same time putting down the notes of what the lecturer has just said and listening to what he is saying. I lately watched a student thus taking notes. It was curious to observe how far his pencil was behind the spoken words, but he got quite correctly the gist of all the lecturer said.

To resume. Impressions and the marginal elements due to stimuli form the raw material of consciousness. It must be remembered that the state of consciousness of which we have practical experience in any moment of our waking lives comprises, besides the impression in the focus, all that is contained in the margin of consciousness. Focus and margin cons]Dire to form the state of consciousness ; and it is only by analyzing the state of consciousness that we distinguish the focus from the margin.

We must now pass on to consider what else, other than an impression, may occupy the focus of consciousness.

When we are sitting quietly and are recalling the sights and sounds and scents of a pleasant walk in the country, our minds are dealing, not with present impressions, but with the revivals in memory of past impressions. Such revivals are termed ideas, or, to particularize them more accurately, sense-ideas. The images that float before the mind's eye, the recollected notes of the nightingale, or the perfume of May blossoms, are examples of sense-ideas. They are not due to stimuli coming from without, but arise through suggestion in ways which will be considered in the next chapter. But though they do not directly owe their origin to external stimuli, they do so indirectly ; for, in the absence of visual impressions of trees and fields and hedgerows, we could have no images of any of these things as sense-ideas. And so with other forms of sense-experience. It is clear that if we have never heard the notes of a nightingale, we cannot recall these notes as sense-ideas. Impressions, then, are matters of direct experience ; the sense-ideas which represent them are like the echoes of this experience. Hence we say that impressions are presentative, and the corresponding sense-ideas representative. Many of our words are presentative signs or symbols which suggest re-presentative ideas. We have, for example, an impression of an animal for which, we are told, the name-sign is '' sheep." Afterwards the presentative word ^^ sheep" suggests a re-presentative idea of the animal. The re-presentative idea is, however, entirely dependent upon our actual presentative experience of sheep. There can be no sense-ideas without previous sense-impressions. "We must never forget this when we are teaching young children. The range of their sense-ideas is limited to the range of their direct experience. Words for objects of which they have no direct experience are little more than mere sounds.

The classification of sense-ideas precisely corresponds to the classification of the impressions of which they are the re-presentative echoes. Thus we may have ideas of the special senses, motor ideas, and ideas which re-present the internal impressions. But the several kinds of sense-ideas vary a good deal in clearness and definiteness ; and different individuals differ not a little in their power of clearly re-presenting their sensory experience. Some of us visualize clearly. I can visualize distinctly anything of which I have recently had a definite, clear-cut, visual impression. I have also tolerably clear auditory ideas. I can re-presentatively hear the notes of a violin, or French horn, or piccolo. My ideas of touchimpressions are rather vague ; and my ideas of taste and smell are not at all definite. If I try and recall the taste of an orange, a pineapple, an acidulated drop, they are by no means clearly distinguishable. On the other hand, my ideas re-presentative of the impressions of direction of rotation are much more definite, perhaps because I have experimented with myself a good deal in this matter. I would ask the reader to exercise some self-observation, and ascertain what his own powers are — how far, for example, he is able to form an idea of the taste of shrimps at all comparable to his visual idea of this succulent animal. So too with regard to motor ideas. My own motor ideas are remarkably distinct. I can re-present to myself quite clearly any of the familiar movements of my limbs ; if, for example, I think of the movements necessary to carry my hand to the back of my neck, I feel them re-presentatively far more clearly than I can re-present to myself the smell of a rose. The ideas which correspond to internal impressions are very vague, and to a large extent are emptied of the pleasurable or painful accompaniment which characterizes the impressions themselves.

We must remember that the idea, as such, occupies the focus of consciousness. In this respect it is precisely analogous to the impression. And just as there may be a large body of presentative elements in the margin of consciousness, so too may there be a large body of re-presentative elements in the margin of consciousness. As we recall the events of our pleasant country walk, there are (1) the sense-ideas in the focus of consciousness ; (2) a good deal of re-presentative margin, forming the background of the ideas ; and (3) a certain amount of presentative margin, due to the stimuli which are affecting our special senses, the sounds, scents, touches, and so forth, together with motor elements due to the positions of our limbs and pressures from our attitude. Neglecting these presentative elements in the margin, it would seem that the focal ideas are not so clearly marked off from the re-presentative elements in the margin of consciousness as is the case with impressions. Indeed, in certain states of reverie, our consciousness seems all margin, without anything definite in the focus. Our day-dream is peopled with shadowy phantoms which dimly flit across the scene with delightful inexactness of outline.