Psychanalysis in the classroom

Introduction

Mr. Green has written a book which will reward with new insight every school teacher who may read it. He has in a very unusual degree the power of gaining the confidence of children and of inducing them to talk of those entirely private experiences which are aptly called their daydreams. He has gathered accounts of such daydreaming from many children; and in this book he presents a sample of this store, skilfully showing how great is their importance in the lives of very many children, and how the wise teacher who knows how to penetrate these privacies of the child's mind may gain an understanding of the child which could hardly be obtained in any other way and which enables him to correct at an early stage tendencies which might and too often do develop into morbid and hampering habits. It may be hoped that Mr. Green's book will serve in some measure as a corrective of the exaggerated " behaviourism' * which is rampant in this country and which threatens to be a serious bar to progress. I question the propriety of the title which Mr. Green vi INTRODUCTION

has chosen for his book, not because he has omitted a letter from the well established word " psychoanalysis/' but because his chapters, while making a wise and discriminating use of the gains brought to psychology by the practice of " psycho-analysis,' ' do not imply the acceptance of the mass of vague and speculative theory which is commonly implied when the term psycho-analysis is used. Psycho-analysis is one method of psychological research among others equally important, though it is also a method of medical treatment ; and the line of progress is that which Mr. Green has skilfully followed — namely, to make use of whatever sound contributions to psychological fact the psycho-analytic method may bring, while maintaining a cautious and critical reserve towards the wide-reaching but ill-digested speculations which are commonly adopted somewhat uncritically by the medical practitioners of this new art.

W. MCDOUGALL.

Harvard, June, 1921.

Preface

At the moment of writing, psychanalysis is probably the most discussed subject before the public. It goes without saying that a great part of what is said is extremely ill-informed, and that much that is included under the term would hardly be considered as psychanalysis by its founder or by any serious student of the subject.

A great deal of blame must rest with some of those who have written about psychanalysis. Public interest in views that were strange and new, and in results that were so striking, led to a supply that was commensurate with the demand. But here, as elsewhere, it is part of the duty of the student to discriminate between the serious contributor and the mere pandar.

Neither demand nor supply shows any signs of falling off just now, but there is in some quarters a great reaction against the new views. There is, naturally enough, the opposition of those who stand for the established tradition, and who take up the attitude of any vested interest against

vii viii PREFACE

a possible usurper. This attack is intelligible enough. But there is a further attack, which is wild and ignorant for the most part, is directed by prejudice, and must be regarded as irrational. Those who are tempted to take part in it should first read Freud a little, so that they may understand not only what they propose to attack, but themselves also. They will discover that all they can say or do has already been foreseen.

One part of this attack is the reiterated charge that psychanalysis concerns itself only with what is objectionable. The charge is, of course, untrue ; but it is at the same time very illuminating. It is impossible that any subject which deals with the whole field of human behaviour can avoid touching at times material that is unpleasant. Further, psychanalysis developed in the first instance out of medical practice, and tended to emphasise what is now to be regarded as the purely pathological side of the subject. But the men and women who can read the works of the leaders of psychanalytic thought and find in them nothing but what is disgusting, are like their forbears, who could find nothing in human nature but what was depraved. Their views tell us little or nothing about psychanalysis or human nature, but they tell us clearly, beyond all possibility of error, that their authors are obsessed by a deep and overpowering interest in things that are disgusting and in depravity.

PREFACE ix

It seemed to me worth while to write a book that should present, as clearly and as simply as possible, such parts of the psychanalytic theory as were likely to be of use to parents and teachers, and to other people who were connected with and interested in children; and to use as illustrative material some of the facts that have come under my personal notice as a result of my contact with normal children. I have to thank my sister, and my friends and former colleagues, Mr. T. H. Jolliffe, Head Master of the Portsmouth Town Boys' School, and Mr. B. J. Sparks, B.A., B.Sc, for a great deal of assistance in the collection of the material; and also Professor W. McDougall, F.R.S., Dr. M. W. Keatinge, Reader in Education in the University of Oxford, and Dr. R. R. Marrett, Reader in Social Anthropology in the University of Oxford, for the opportunities they gave me of discussing my material with them. It must be understood, however, that the grateful mention of the names of these gentlemen does not imply that they have endorsed, or will endorse, the statements I have made in the following chapters.

I cannot claim that the book is in any sense a complete statement of the whole psychanalytic position. I have intentionally limited its scope in view of the purpose I had in mind. The reader who is interested may extend his reading without limit. But I have tried to consider the x PREFACE

special needs of the teacher and the parent, and to be at once simple and comprehensive. To these ends I have sacrificed much; but not, I hope, accuracy and sincerity.

G. H. G.

London, Easter, 1921.

Contents

CHAPTER

I. — Introduction .

PAGE

II. — The Daydream .

II III. — The Daydream {Continued)

• 54

IV.— Play

• 79

V. — Dreams

• 93

VI. — Word Associations .

. 121

VII. — Interest .....

• 138

VIII. — Introversion .

IX.— EXTRAVERSION . . .

X. — Identification .

2IO

XI. — Slips, Accidents, and Omissions

XII. — Dependence and Sex

Bibliography ....

Index .....

XI

PSYCHANALYSIS IN THE CLASSROOM

PSYGHANALYSIS IN THE CLASSROOM

Chapter I Introduction

Psychanalysis is neither a science nor a theory. It is a method, a technique, that has been developed in connection with the treatment of " nervous' ' diseases. We owe its discovery to Professor Sigmund Freud.

The precise nature of this method will not be definitely spoken of in what follows, for the reason that teachers are not likely to be concerned at all with the actual analysis of pupils. This is a matter for specialists with experience, training and opportunities that are not likely to fall to the lot of the teacher occupied with his own professional duties and responsibilities.

It is hardly too much to say that psychanalysis grew up by chance. It was discovered to be a method which "worked," though the reasons why were by no means clear. But no method can exist and be developed without a theory or a number of theories springing up at the same time, as attempts at explanation are made.

Theory develops out of practice. The theory makes possible advances in practice. The advances in practice broaden the theory. The broadened theory makes possible further developments of practice. And so on. Theory and practice develop together and in conjunction with one another. Practice that has not the sanction of a body of theory is likely to degenerate into mere mechanical rule-of-thumb routine. Theory that develops independently of practice is likely to become mere academic lumber.

Out of the practice of psychanalysis, then, has grown a body of theory to which the name "analytical psychology " has been applied, and which it seems probable will in the future be known by this name. The practice and the theory alike are to-day in a very flourishing state, as the flood of books dealing with both sufficiently testifies. Differences of opinion regarding both exist, and adherents of one view or another are grouping themselves into "schools."

In spite of differences, however, there exists a body of doctrine concerning which there is general agreement, and it is this which is of importance to those who, whilst not wishing to specialise in psychanalysis or analytic psychology, yet wish to acquaint themselves with a subject

INTRODUCTION 5

which is certainly destined to play a great part in connection with the life of the future.

Psychanalysis, as has already been said, developed in connection with the treatment of nervous diseases. As the theory developed, however, it was soon seen that the implications of the method were concerned with much more than mental pathology.

Psychanalysis interpreted dreams, but it also threw light on the dreams of the great dreamers of the race — on literature and art. It explained those stories that are so peculiarly like dreams, fairy tales and allegories. It made clear the meaning of the many things we do daily of which we are unconscious, or of which we speak as " merely habits/' carried out unintentionally and having no meaning. It was employed with interesting and illuminating results in the study of wit. It has served to explain points in anthropology, to clear up questions concerning primitive thought and conduct.

In brief, it was found that the theories developed out of psychanalytic practice were such as could not be ignored by those who were interested in human thought. They showed that the mind which expresses itself in the dream is always with us, however widely awake we may be, and is working in us and through us. Previous attempts to explain the working of the mind had concerned themselves with but a part — with a part which analytic psychology declares to be a small part only.

The practical teacher has always had a certain distrust of psychology. It was not that he believed it to be wrong, so much as he felt it to be inadequate. He found that it helped him very little in the classroom.

The new teachings promise to make psychology adequate. The teacher who is able to make himself acquainted with them will discover that they help him to explain much in the mental life of children which previously puzzled him, and which appeared incapable of explanation. The older psychology confined its attention to a kind of mind which seemed to be strangely absent from the children of an ordinary class; which was, in fact, the mind of a highly cultured man as studied by a highly developed intelligence. It was a psychology of the university merely, and appeared to be completely detached from the life of the classroom.

Psychanalysis goes to prove that the materials from which psychology is to be learned are those which the classroom can supply in any desired quantity. The actions of children, the mistakes they make, their restlessness and fidgeting, the artless things they say, the " queer' ' things they write and draw, the wandering of their attention, their likes and dislikes — these are documents from which the teacher is to learn. We are all

INTRODUCTION 7

familiar now with the pedagogic doctrines which insist that the teacher's business is to watch the children, and to refrain from interfering with them. Whether we agree or not, it is fairly clear that teachers in this country will be expected to do a great deal more. But it is quite obvious that the observation of children is an essential part of the teacher's task, if he is to understand the material with which he has to work. It is not sufficient to realise in a general way that each child is an individual problem, unless one is prepared at the same time to discover the precise nature of the individual problem in all its details, and to apply oneself to its satisfactory solution.

But analytical psychology goes farther. It enables the teacher to understand himself, and to realise that a great many of the difficulties that occur in his work are the result of tendencies in himself. To realise also, that a great many beliefs to which he clings, as well as a great many of his practices, have no sounder basis than these tendencies; and that the reasons he advances in support of both are not so much reasons as excuses. The understanding of himself and of his pupils by the teacher must in the end do much to alter the character of the struggle between both that goes on ceaselessly in the classroom; that results in wasted effort, discouragement, misunderstanding and inefficiency.

That there are directions in which our education is inefficient, goes without saying: every teacher will admit it, since our education has no more thoughtful and severe critics than the teachers themselves. Nor has it any more devoted wellwishers.

Most of the waste in modern education probably results from the fact that our system fails to suit a great many pupils. It suits the bulk, and is so far satisfactory. But each pupil is an individual problem, and consequently many of our children are sufficiently far removed from a "mean" for the bulk of the teacher's efforts on their behalf to be unproductive of any good result.

The obvious remedy is out of the question on account of the cost — the " obvious remedy,' 9 that is, of a private tutor for every pupil who is so constituted that he cannot work in a class. But it is possible that some understanding of the pupil can be gained that will give the clue to the reason why he has failed to adapt himself to his fellows; more, that will make it possible for the teacher to assist the pupil in bringing about the necessary adaptation, with beneficial results for his happiness and success.

So much must be the excuse for adding another to the already formidable bulk of works dealing with the subject of psychanalysis. The average man has neither time to read nor money to buy the majority, nor has he the special knowledge which

INTRODUCTION 9

an understanding of the best demands. But he is able to understand and appreciate the theories of analytical psychology, provided they are presented in a manner that is free from novel technical terms, and illustrated from material with which he is familiar. The average man has little acquaintance with lunatics or with insanity, but he has a great interest in himself, in other men and women, and in children, and this interest will be increased if he is able to look at them with heightened understanding.

The following pages, therefore, deal with examples that have been taken from children and adults who are normal, or who are so little removed from the normal that we are likely to meet them in the daily life of the home and of the schoolroom. The theory has been developed from these examples. It may seem, in some instances, that the deductions that have been drawn are more complete and more dogmatically stated than the material seems to warrant. This is due to considerations of space, since it would have been possible to produce many times as many cases as have actually been presented, and to quote a great deal of material tending to confirm the theoretical statements that have been made. But every reader, every teacher and parent more especially, will be able to supplement from his own experience the cases that have been given. And if he finds that the theory throws light on his work and makes io PSYCHANALYSIS IN CLASSROOM

clear points that have puzzled him, so that it appears to him worth following up, he will find at the end of the book a bibliography that will serve as a guide to the more important books dealing with the subject, with the aid of which he will be able to study analytical psychology in all its bearings. He will discover, whether he reads of the interpretation of dreams, or of fairy tales, or of myths and legends, or of the more medical applications of psychanalysis, that, in the end, the implications of analytical psychology are all concerned with education — with the errors that have in the past been made in education and in life, of the individual and the race. And in precisely the same way that a great science of health has grown up as a direct result of the study of disease, so should a great science and practice of sound education develop as men in general become acquainted with the nature and results of the errors that have been made in education. And towards such a science and practice the contribution of teachers should be one by no means small.

Chapter II

Daydreaming is a phenomenon so universal and so generally recognised that we may very well begin with it in our attempts to investigate aspects of mental life that have hitherto been ignored, wholly or in part by pedagogical psychology.

Every adult finds, to a greater or less extent, that logical coherent thought demands a real effort. Children experience this even more. Consequently, a slight amount of concentration is followed by a tendency to "wander"; the mind following its own bent. The mind, we may say, if we wish to picture the process, has to be forced back to the line that we wish it to follow whenever we want to think logically.

The teacher, concerned very much with the problem presented by this tendency of the mind to wander, has given a great deal of study to the question of the ways in which he may arrest the attention of the child. Much school apparatus and many teaching methods have come into

ii existence as a result. For the general public, courses in concentration and mental training are at the moment widely advertised, all of which are designed to prevent this "mind- wandering' ' to which we have referred, or at least to reduce it to a minimum.

The associated problems of why the mind should wander, and the nature of its wanderings, have received less consideration.

At first sight, one would be inclined to attribute the refusal of the mind to continue a logical train of thought as due to fatigue. Fatigue should be followed by rest. But experience goes to show that the mind is not resting. In concentrated attention, our difficulty is not so much to compel the mind to be active, as to direct and control its activity. We must not, however, assert immediately that there is no fatigue, for personal experience goes to show that there is. It would seem as if the mind worked along lines of activity that were easier to follow than those along which we attempt to direct it.

The nature of this activity appears to be similar in all individuals. In the lapses between periods of concentration images present themselves to the mind, images which have the vividness of actual reality, arranged coherently. These make up what has been variously called the daydream, the reverie, the fantasy, or the 11 brown study.' '

In vividness and distinctness daydreams vary greatly with different individuals. Some people lose contact with the real world altogether, and return to life as if from a sleep. Others remain conscious of what is going on about them, and are able to act and to speak consciously and intelligently, living simultaneously in two worlds, as it were.

The occasions of daydreaming are similar in all individuals. Whenever continued attention is demanded, as in the course of a lecture or a sermon, the tendency to lapse into the daydream manifests itself. At first it is repressed, but unless the lecture or sermon be unusually interesting, it gains the day. There are few auditors who do not yield, for longer or shorter periods, to the tendency; lose contact with what is actually said, and abandon themselves to contemplation of the imaginary pictures which the mind presents to them.

If this be so in the case of the adult auditor, whom we may presume to be trained to habits of concentrated attention, much more so is it the case with children. How much of a teacher's time is wasted in giving lessons to which some members of his class, at least, are not attending? It is impossible to answer this question with quantitative precision, but an indication of the amount is afforded by the revision which is necessary, and which wastes so much of the time of pupils and teachers alike; and by the way in which we are compelled to keep back apparently intelligent children in order that they may go once more over the ground that seemed to be covered efficiently in the previous year.

These considerations sufficiently warrant an attempt to understand the daydream completely, and to discover if possible from it something of the nature of the mind.

It is very difficult to obtain material for the study of daydreams. The majority of people are very reticent about them, and make evasive excuses of some sort or another when they are asked to narrate them. Frequently they say that they are unable to remember what their daydreams are like, or that these are so fragmentary that they cannot piece them together into any sort of connected narrative. Other people will say that their daydreams are " silly" or "ridiculous"; whilst others will say that their daydreams are so intimate and private a part of themselves that they do not feel that they can reveal them.

There is the further fact to be considered that a great many people prefer daydreaming to thought, and deliberately place themselves in surroundings and in circumstances which favour this form of mental activity. The real delight of idling in fields or on hill-tops, of twilight or darkness or dim lights, of the glow of the fireside, is that here we have circumstances where the appeal of the real world is less insistent, and in which we are the more easily able to abandon ourselves to reverie.

From these facts, therefore, which are extremelywell known, we are able at once to draw the following conclusions : —

(1) For most people daydreaming is a pleasurable activity.

(2) The subject of the daydream is one which the higher qualities of the mind — leaving out of the question, for the moment, what these may happen to be — do not approve; but condemn as frivolous, or at least sufficiently alien from the character we wish to present to other people to warrant us in refraining from communicating our reveries.

The first of these characteristics brings us at once into contact with one of the fundamental conceptions of the newer psychological teachings. It is that our thought falls into one of two welldefined categories: we think either in connection with " pleasure," or with "reality." The implications of this conception are many, and we shall return to the subject again.

The second characteristic seems to imply that we have working within us a mind, or a department of the mind, whose activities are of a nature that we do not approve. We regard them as not in keeping with our character: we are inclined to mild disapprobation and concealment in respect of them.

Further characteristics are revealed by the study of actual daydreams.

The simplest are naturally those of very young children, but they present the difficulty that they occur before the child has acquired the art of expressing himself by means of speech, so that we are often compelled to gather from his actions the thoughts that prompt them.

Case I. A girl of three years of age called one morning from her cot to her father, "Dadda, there's a little girl in my bed." Her father replied, "If there is, you had better bring her down to breakfast with you." The child appeared in the breakfast-room, leading an imaginary girl by the hand.

At the table, she devoted all her attention to the imaginary guest, offering her bread and butter, egg and coffee. She neglected to eat at all herself. So, after a time, her father said, "I think that the little girl has made a capital breakfast. Send her away now." The child got down from her chair, led the imaginary child to the door, which she opened and by which she stood waving her hand while she said, "Goodbye, little girl. Come again soon." Then she returned to the table, to eat her own breakfast with a vigour that showed how much she had restrained herself while attending to the guest.

In the street, this child was much interested in other " little girls/ ' Frequently she would go to strange children and ask them their names.

One morning, after she had been for a walk with her aunt, she told her mother, "This morning Aunty took me in the tram. There was a nice little girl there. She asked me what my name was, and I told her. Then she asked me if I would like a chocolate, and when I said 'yes/ she gave me a lovely big one."

The whole story is quite untrue to fact.

More recently, when she was nearly four years old, she was staying in a house where the people were unable to give much time or attention to her. She was thrown entirely upon her own resources and her toys for amusement. It was noticed before long that she was talking as if another child were present. For the imaginary companion she chose the name " Glycerine.' '

Her uncle, to tease her, pretended to take a great deal of interest in Glycerine. He went through the motions of lifting a little girl to his knee, and began to talk to her. The child was astounded for a few moments, but said, " Glycerine can't be on your knee. She's over here. She's playing with me."

"So she is," said he. "Come here, Glycerine." Again he went through the movement of lifting a child to his knee. Then the girl said triumphantly, "She isn't on your knee at all. She's gone home."

The child was persuaded to talk about Glycerine, whom she described as a very amiable little girl, able and willing to play well, and interested in the things her creator was doing. But a little later, when an aunt, reproving the child for some fault, said, "I am sure that Glycerine never does naughty things like that," the child at once retorted angrily, "Oh yes, she does. She's a very naughty little girl."

Later, when the uncle and aunt had left the house, and the child remained with her grandmother and her toys, Glycerine once more came to play with her.

The daydream structure that is shown in this case is one that is simple and that easily lends itself to interpretation. The wish to have other "little girls" as playmates or companions and to know them, is shown in the daydream and in behaviour in the street. But the relation that is assumed is, in general, one of dominance on the part of the creator, and of subordination on the part of the imaginary companion. The child takes the initiative in inquiring the names of other children, and it is she who decides the actions of Glycerine and the imaginary guest at the breakfast-table; issuing orders and giving instructions. She wishes to have the imaginary companion as her own completely, and a strong motive of jealousy impels her to send it away so soon as there is a question of its allegiance being divided, even though this deprives her of the pleasure of the company of a being specially created to give her this pleasure.

Here, then, we have revealed stong motives, which are of the nature of instinctive motives. It is doubtful if we can analyse motives farther than this, and at present psychologists seem inclined to regard the instinct as the fundamental element of behaviour. We have therefore, adopting McDougall's terminology, the gregarious instinct, manifesting itself in the wish to have companions; the instinct of self -assertion y shown in the wish to dominate the imaginary companion, and in the act of forcing acquaintance on strange children encountered by chance in the street; and the instinct of possession, or acquisition, displayed in the desire to have sole rights of ownership in the imaginary companion.

McDougall has conceived the instincts as innate tendencies to act and to feel in certain ways, transmitted through heredity and as constant for any given species of animals. If they are baffled or restrained, unpleasant emotion is experienced, which may range from a slight feeling of restlessness or discomfort to rage. When they are permitted to act smoothly, to continue uninterruptedly from inception to their final end, the emotions are pleasurable. Further, McDougall believes that each instinct has its own peculiar kind of pleasurable emotion, which belongs to it and to no other.

The girl referred to under Case I. was an only child, and had few opportunities of companionship with children of her own age. She was surrounded by adults. In the presence of older people a child is at a marked disadvantage. Its physical powers are feebler, it is compelled to obey its elders and has no power to coerce them, it is not permitted to act as they do. It is conscious at most times of a very marked inferiority. But it has within it, as certainly as the adult, an instinct which would lead it to display and assert itself, and to experience the feeling of elation that follows the successful functioning of this instinct. No action of those about it can destroy the instinct. At most it is repressed.