SOME FALLACIES IN THE MODERN

EDUCATIONAL SCHEME

ALFRED E. STEARNS

I

FOR a number of years thoughtful men and women have viewed with increasing apprehension, if not alarm, the growth and spread of radical ideas in American education. The public school from its very nature has suffered most from the inroads of modern pedagogy; but institutions of all kinds, public and private, higher and lower, have felt the effects of the pressure, and in greater or less degree have been forced to modify courses of study, methods of work, and even ideals. Just now the strength of this pressure is greater than ever before, backed as it is by educational authorities and foundations whose ability cannot be questioned, and whose financial resources enable them almost to force upon the public the acceptance of the ideals they advocate. The education of the past is everywhere on the defensive; old ideals are being undermined; methods that have served for generations are scorned as unworthy; and finally, to complete the destruction, we are frankly asked to tear down the old structure, carry away the very foundation-stones on which it has rested for centuries, and build anew.

Just what material we are to use in this new structure the modern pedagogical "experts" are not yet quite ready to tell us. Never mind! The old structure is inadequate. Therefore away with it! Time, an overruling Providence,

the adaptable American genius, or perhaps, best of all, the

American pedagogical expert, in due season will furnish both plans and material.

Before we examine in detail the criticisms and suggestions of these modern experts in education it will help us to consider briefly, and in a general way, the broad contrasts between the old education and the new: not the individual studies so much as the ideals and aims involved; for unless we are seeking a definite goal, subjects and subject-matter are of little importance.

Early education in America centred largely in New England and was colored by English ideals. Settlers, as they moved westward, carried with them the ideas and methods to which they were accustomed, and schools and colleges arose to testify to the depth of their convictions. This early education was frankly designed to be intellectual and moral. The development of character was its chief object. It has been criticized on the ground that it was intended primarily to meet the needs of those who were training for the Christian ministry, men who were avowedly to become the intellectual, moral, and religious leaders of the communities in which they lived; and that in consequence it failed to provide for those who were destined to fill other positions in life. The public has been too ready to accept this criticism at its face value without investigating the facts on which it is based. Education has suffered greatly in consequence, for destructive criticism invariably appeals to the common mind, and that too before a constructive remedy has been offered.

It would be hard to find this early ideal of education more clearly stated than it is in the constitution of Phillips Academy, penned by the hand of the then Lieutenant Governor of the Commonweath of Massachusetts, in the year 1777. Mr. Phillips was not a clergyman. By profession he was a business man. But he became a states

man and a judge; and he was always and primarily an intelligent, broad-minded, and public-spirited citizen.

"But above all," he writes, "it is expected that the Master's attention to the disposition of the Minds and Morals of the Youth under his charge will exceed every other care; well considering that, though goodness without knowledge (as it respects others) is weak and feeble, yet knowledge without goodness is dangerous, and that both united form the noblest character, and lay the surest foundation of usefulness to mankind." In another paragraph, after specifying the subjects to be taught, and in order to emphasize the main purpose of his foundation, Mr. Phillips closes with these homely but significant words, "but more especially to learn them [youth] the great end and real business of living." And this same spirit and these same ideals inspired the large majority of those who throughout this land founded the hundreds of schools and colleges that in the passing years have done so much to make this nation truly great.

No doubt a candidate for the Christian ministry, then as to-day, would profit by an education that sought to realize such high ideals as these. But the writer was concerned with youth in general, and he knew, as every thoughtful, intelligent man must know, that the ultimate strength of any nation lies in the character of its citizens, no matter how efficient they may be on practical lines. Character must be the foundation. And character did not mean to these far-sighted men mere moral goodness. Character, then as now, was composed of the trained mind plus moral strength. Build on that foundation whatever type of building you please. It will be the stronger and the better because it is built on rock. We must search far to find a higher ideal of education than this. Its faults, regarded from present-day conditions, are to be found not in what it advocates, but in what it omits. New condi

tions have developed new needs; and these needs must rightly be satisfied. But they cannot be satisfied with permanent benefit to the country and the world if the true basis of education, so clearly recognized by our fathers, is ignored or deemed outworn.

The modern educational ideal so loudly proclaimed by its advocates furnishes a marked contrast to the old. At its basis it is frankly materialistic and utilitarian. Practical efficiency is its goal. Not all will admit the truth of this assertion; but the more one studies the subject and uncovers the influences that are chiefly responsible for these modern theories of education, the more one is forced to admit the soundness of this contention. And whether one admits it in full or not, there can be no doubt that the materialistic spirit so overwhelmingly present in our American life to-day has been a powerful factor in shaping and coloring our modern educational ideals. "Fit our youth for life," is the insistent demand of the new. "Fit our youth to live," is the cry of the old.

Four years ago a typical American business man with a son to educate wrote as follows: "I want my boy to specialize. I want him to have the following and nothing else - Mathematics, French, German, Spanish (not the average schoolroom language, but instruction that will enable him to speak them). I want him to have the opportunity for manual training, so that he may develop a strong mechanical turn that he has. I do not want any Latin, history, or grammar. The boy might, if he has time, take English literature. My only reason to make a change is because I must have him develop along the lines I have indicated, not a lot of instruction that will do him no good in after life. We cannot afford to waste our time in that way in these days."

This letter expresses with commendable frankness the opinions held by thousands of American parents of the

present day, opinions with which our American schoolmasters are altogether too familiar. Its author has clearly in view the goal he seeks for his son. That goal is avowedly materialistic. With that goal in view, and with his own intellectual limitations, the father is perhaps consistent in demanding a narrow and limited course of study. But the man of wider scholarship and broader vision will refuse to admit that the boy in question would not make in the end a better business man, even in the limited sphere which his father had in view, if he had acquired in the course of his training some knowledge of history, grammar, and English literature. Yet this is a fair sample of the kind of pressure that with increasing force has been exerted in recent years against our American educational institutions. The public high school, the avowed servant of a local public, has felt the pressure most and at first hand. Largely through the public school this same pressure has been extended to the higher institutions. The state universities are practically moulded by it. Insistent demands are made that subjects of a practical nature wholly, and designed primarily to meet the needs of pupils who will not or cannot continue their education beyond the high-school stage, shall be accepted for admission by our colleges and universities. Public pressure so pronounced cannot well be ignored. In varying degrees the higher institutions have yielded to it, until it is hard to recognize in the child of to-day the parent of the past.

But not alone in the goal sought for does the new education differ from the old. The contrast is equally marked when we examine subject-matter and methods. The old curriculum was largely linguistic; the new is primarily scientific and technical. The old laid stress on the value of mental discipline; the new denies that such a thing as mental discipline, save within the narrowest limits, exists. The old accepted as a self-evident truth the value of hard