Tonight I uncovered this gem which looks at the mighty issue of a Grand-Unifying Theory of Education. It comes from a 73 page treatise that I have gone to great effort to condense and, where necessary, clarify because I have been properly encouraged to remember that as much as things change... or rather... There is nothing new under the sun.
The Public Domain Review. (2017). Leo Tolstoy´s Fables for Children (1904). [online] Available at: http://publicdomainreview.org/collections/leo-tolstoys-fables-for-children-1904/ [Accessed 19 Sep. 2017].
Anyone who considers themselves a purveyor of a 21st Century Education Philosophy should have, at the very least, considered the following. For those who enjoy a good skim, I have italicized and bolded the quips I think are crucial.
I hope that you will find, like I have, several modern analogues in a school district near you, and again, I make another shout out to The Sydney Centre for Innovation in Learning (SCIL) who could very well be represented by the school the author below longs to create.
All human knowledge is subdivided for the purpose that it may more conveniently be gathered, united, and transmitted, and those subdivisions are called sciences. But outside their scientific classifications you may talk about objects anything you please, and you may say all the nonsense imaginable, as we actually see. In any case, the result of the conversation will be that the children are either made to learn by heart the teacher’s words about the [Squirrel], or to change their own words, place them in a certain order (not always a correct order), and to memorize and repeat them. For this reason all the manuals of this kind, in general all the exercises of development, suffer on the one hand from absolute arbitrariness, and on the other from superfluity.
The character of this instruction is everywhere one and the same. The whole attention is directed toward teaching the pupil what he already knows. And since the pupil knows what he is being taught, and easily recites in any order desired what he is asked to recite by the teacher, the teacher thinks that he is really teaching something, and the pupil’s progress is great, and the teacher, paying no attention to what forms the really difficulty of teaching, that
is, to teaching something new, most comfortably stumps about in one spot.
is, to teaching something new, most comfortably stumps about in one spot.
Pedagogy is in the same condition in which a science would be that would teach how a man ought to walk; and people would try to discover rules about how to teach the children, how to enjoin them to contract this muscle, stretch that muscle, and so forth. This condition of the new pedagogy results directly from its two fundamental principles: (1) that the aim of the school is development and not science, and (2) that development and the means for attaining it may be theoretically defined. From this has consistently resulted that miserable and frequently ridiculous condition in which the whole matter of the schools now is. Forces are wasted in vain, and the masses, who at the present moment are thirsting for education, as the dried-up grass thirsts for rain, and are ready to receive it, and beg for it, -- instead of a loaf receive a a stone , and are perplexed to understand whether they were mistaken in regarding education as something good, or whether something is wrong in what is being offered to them. That matters are really so there cannot be the least doubt for any man who becomes acquainted with the present theory of teaching and knows the actual condition of the school among the masses. Involuntarily there arises the question: how could honest, cultured people, who sincerely love their work and wish to do good, -- for such I regard the majority of my opponents to be, -- have arrived at such a strange condition and be in such deep error?
And thus it was found that the old methods of instruction were not good for anything, and, without building any new foundation, they began to look for new methods. I say “without building any new foundation,” because there are only two permanent foundations of pedagogy:
(1) The determination of the criterion of what ought to be taught, and (2) the criterion of how it has to be taught, that is, the determination that the chosen subjects are most necessary, and that the chosen method is the best.
The real, peremptory question of pedagogy, which fifteen years ago I vainly tried to put in all its significance, “Why ought we to know this or that, and how shall we teach it?” has not even been touched. The result of this has been that as soon as it became apparent that the old method was not good, they did not try to find out what the best method would be, but immediately set out to discover a new method which would be the very opposite of the old one. They did as a man may do who finds his house to be cold in the winter and does not trouble himself about learning why it is cold, or how to help matters, but at once tries to find another house which will as little as possible resemble the one he is living in.
The moment parents or simply sensible people, who busy themselves with the question of education, express their doubt about the efficacy of these methods, they are told: “And what about Pestalozzi, and Diesterweg, and Denzel, and Wurst, and methodies, heuristics, didactics, concentrism?” and the bold people wave their hands, and say : “God be with them, -- they know better.” In these [methods] there also lay this other advantage, that with it the teacher does not need to try too much, does not need to go on studying, does not need to work over himself and the methods of instruction. For the greater part of the time the teacher teaches by this method what the children know, and, besides, teaches it from a text-book, and that is convenient. And unconsciously, in accordance with an innate human weakness, the teacher is fond of this convenience. It is very pleasant for me, with my firm conviction that I am teaching and doing an important and very modern work, to tell the children from the book about the [squirrel], or about a horse’s having four legs, or to transpose the cubes by twos and by threes and ask the children how much two and two is; but if, instead of telling them about the [squirrel] the teacher had to tell or read something interesting, to give the foundations of grammar, geography, sacred history, and of the four operations, he would at once be led to working over himself, to reading much, and to refreshing his knowledge.
It has been observed -- quite correctly -- that there is no greater aid for a pupil, when he is puzzled by a problem with large numbers, than to give him the same problem with smaller numbers. The pupil, who in life learns to grope through problems with small numbers, is conscious of the process of solving, and transfers this process to the problem with large numbers. Having observed this, the new pedagogues try to teach only the solving of puzzles with small numbers, that is, what can not form the subject of instruction and is only the work of life.
To sum up, the new school has removed certain disadvantages... and in this it is superior to the old method, and in reading and writing sometimes gives better results; but, on the other hand, it has introduced new defects, which are that the contents of the reading are most senseless and that arithmetic is no longer taught as a study.
The chief causes which have led us into such error are: (1) the ignorance about the masses; (2) the involuntarily seductive ease of teaching the children what they already know; (3) our proneness to imitate [other cultures], and (4) the criticism of the old, without putting down a new foundation. This last cause has led the pedagogues of the new school to this, that, in spite of the extreme external difference of the new method from the old, it is identical with it in its foundation, and , consequently, in the methods of instruction and in the results. In either method the essential principle consists in the teacher’s firm and absolute knowledge of what to teach and how to teach, and this knowledge of his he does not draw from the demands of the masses and from experience, but simply decides theoretically once for all that he must teach this or that and in such a way, and so he teaches. The pedagogue of the ancient school, which... I shall call the church school, knows firmly and absolutely that he must teach from the prayer-book and the psalter by making the children learn by rote, and he admits no alterations in his methods; in the same manner the teacher of the new... school knows firmly and absolutely that he must teach according to [new methods] and he admits no alterations... Both of them base their opinion on the firm conviction that they know the best methods.
I assume that without [coercion] it is impossible to get along even in the new... school, because, like the church school, it teaches without asking what the pupil finds interesting to know, but what, in the teacher’s opinion, seems necessary, and so the school can be based only on compulsion. Compulsion is attained with children generally by means of blows. The church and the new... school, starting from the same principles and arriving at the same results, are absolutely identical. But, if it came to choosing one of the two, I should still prefer the church school. The defects are the same, but on the side of the church school is the custom of a thousand years and the authority of the church, which is so powerful with the masses.
When I entered at once into the closest direct relations with those forty tiny peasants that formed my school (I call them tiny peasants because I found in them the same characteristics of perspicacity, the same immense store of information from practical life, of jocularity, simplicity, and loathing for everything false...) when I saw that susceptibility, that readiness to acquire the information which they needed, I felt at once that the antiquated church method of instruction had outlived its usefulness and was not good for them. I began to experiment on other proposed methods of instruction; but, because compulsion in education, both by my conviction and by my character, are repulsive to me, I did not exercise any pressure, and, the moment I noticed that something was not readily received, I did not compel them, and looked for something else. From these experiments it appeared to me and to those teachers who instructed with me... that nearly everything which in the pedagogical world was written about schools was separated by an immeasurable abyss from reality, and that many of the proposed methods, such as object-lessons, the natural sciences, the sound method, and others, called forth contempt and ridicule, and were not accepted by those pupils. We began to look for those contents and those methods which were readily taken up by the pupils, and struck that which forms my my method of instruction.
“The only criterion of pedagogy is freedom, the only method -- experience.”
After fifteen years I have not changed my opinion one hair’s breadth; but I consider it necessary to define with greater precision what I understand by these words, not only in respect to education in general, but also in respect to the particular question of popular education in a primary school. [Two hundred] years ago the question what to teach and how to teach could have had no place either in Europe or with us. Education was inseparably connected with religion. To learn reading meant to learn Holy Writ.. But the moment religion ceased to be the criterion of what ought to be taught, and the school became independent of it, this question had to arise. But it did not arise because the school was suddenly freed from its dependence on religion, but by imperceptible steps. Now it is accepted by everybody that religion cannot serve as the contents, nor as an indication of the method of education, and that education has different demands for its basis.
In the popular school the right to determine what the children shall learn, no matter from what standpoint we may consider this question, belongs just as much to the masses, that is, either to the pupils themselves, or to the parents who send the children to school, and so the answer to the question what the children are to be taught in a popular school can be got only from the masses. But, perhaps, we shall say that we, as highly cultured people, must not submit to the demands of the rude masses and that we must teach the masses what to wish. Thus many think, but to that I can give this one answer: give us a firm, incontrovertible foundation why this or that is chosen by you, show me a society in which the two diametrically opposed views on education do not exist among the highly cultured people; where it is not eternally repeated that if education falls into the hands of the clergy, the masses are educated in one sense, and if education falls into the hands of the progressists, the people are educated in another sense, -- show me a state of society where that does not exist, and I will agree with you. So long as that does not exist, there is no criterion except the freedom of the learner, where, in matters of the popular school, the place of the learning children is taken by their parents, that is, by the needs of the masses.
Thus, if we admit freedom as the criterion of what is to be taught, the program of the popular schools is clearly and firmly defined, until the time when the masses shall express some new demands.
Education and instruction are generally considered in the abstract, that is, the question is discussed how in the best and easiest manner to produce a certain act of instruction on a certain subject (whether it be one child or a mass of children). This view is quite faulty. All education and instruction can be viewed only as a certain relation of two persons or of two groups of persons having for their aim education or instruction. This definition, more general than all the other definitions, has special reference to popular education, where the question is the education of an immense number of persons, and where there can be no question about an ideal education. IN general, with the popular education we cannot put the question, “How is the best education to be give?” just as with the question of nutrition of the masses we cannot ask how the most nutrition and best loaf is to be baked. The question has to be put like this: “How is the best relation to be established between given people who want to learn and others who want to teach?” or, “How is the best bread to be made from given bolted flour?” Consequently the question of how to teach and what is the best method is a question of what will be the best relation between teacher and pupil.
Everybody is agreed that just as in hygiene the use of any food, medicine, exercise, that provokes loathing or pain, cannot be useful, so also in instruction can there be no necessity of compelling children to learn anything that is tiresome and repulsive to them, and that, if necessity demands that children be compelled, it only proves the imperfection of the method... I consider the rousing of the pupil’s interest, the greatest possible ease, and, therefore, the non-compulsion and naturalness of instruction as the fundamental and only measure of good and bad instruction.
The objection was formerly made and, I know, is made even now that it is hard to find the limit of freedom which shall be permitted in school. To this I will reply that this limit is naturally determined by the teacher, his knowledge, his ability to manage the school; that is freedom cannot be prescribed; the measure of this freedom is only the result of the greater or lesser knowledge and talent of the teacher. This freedom is not a rule, but serves as a check in comparing schools between themselves, and as a check in comparing new methods which are introduced into the school curriculum. The school in which there is less compulsion is better than the one in which there is more. The method which at its introduction into the school does not demand an increase of discipline is good; but the one which demands greater severity is certainly bad. Take, for example, a more or less free school, such as mine was, and try to start a conversation in it about the table and the ceiling, or to transpose cubes -- you will see what a hubbub will arise in the school and how you will feel the necessity of restoring order by means of severity; try to tell them an interesting story, or give them problems, or make one write on the board and let the others correct his mistakes, and allow them to leave the benches, and you will find them all occupied and there will be no naughtiness, and you will not have to increase your severity, -- and you may safely say that the method is good.
If, from a first, external impression of the school, we were to determine the difference between the church, the [new school] and my own school, it would be this: in a church school you hear a peculiar, unnatural, monotonous shouting of all the pupils and now and then the stern cries of the teacher; in the [new school] you hear only the teacher’s voice and now and then the timid voices of the pupils; in mine you hear the loud voices of the teachers and the pupils, almost simultaneously.
As for the methods of instruction the consequences were that not one method of instruction was adopted or rejected because it was liked or not, but only because it was accepted or not by the pupils without compulsion. But in addition to the good results which were always obtained without fail from the application of my method by myself and by everybody else... who taught according to my method... the application of the principles of which I have spoken had the effect that during these fifteen years all the various modifications, to which my method was subjected, not only did not remove it from the needs of the masses, but, on the contrary, brought it near and nearer to them. The masses, at least in our parts, know the method itself and discuss it, and prefer it... In the schools which are conducted according to my method the teacher cannot remain motionless in his knowledge... On the contrary, in my school, where the subjects of instruction, language and mathematics, demand positive knowledge, every teacher, in advancing his pupils, feels the need of learning himself, which was constantly the case with all the teachers I had.
As I wish to remain true to my rule that criticism should point out how that which is not good ought to be, I shall try to show how the whole school business ought to be arranged, if it is not to be a plaything, and is to have a future. The answer is the same as the first two questions, -- freedom. The masses must be given the freedom to arrange their schools as they wish, and as little as possible should any one interfere in their arrangement.
The essential difference between the view of the people and of the ministerial department consists in the following: (1) in the opinion of the masses there is no one definite norm and form of the school, outside and below which the school is not recognized, as it is assumed by the ministerial department; a school may be of any kind, either a very good and expensive one, or a very poor and cheap one, but even in a very poor one reading and writing may be learned... Just as one can pray equally well in a poor or in a rich parish, even so it is with learning. (2) The masses regard as the first condition of their education an even, equal distribution of this education, though it be in its lowest stage, and then only they propose a further, again an even, raising of the level of education... (3)... The masses... see as clear as daylight that those expensive schools... may be good indeed, but are not what they need, and try in every way possible to diminish the expenses for their schools.
If what I have pointed out does not convince anybody that will mean that I did not express clearly what I wanted to say, and do not wish to enter into any disputes with anybody. I know that no deaf people are so hopeless as those who do not want to hear. I know how it is with farmers. A new threshing-machine has been bought at a great expense, and it is put up and started threshing. It threshes miserably, no matter how you set the screw; this threshes badly, and the grain falls into the straw. There is a loss, and it is as clear as can be that the machine ought to be abandoned and another means be employed for threshing, but the money has been spent and the threshing-machine is put up. “Let her thresh,” says the master. Precisely the same thing will happen with this matter. I know that for a long time to come there will flourish the object instruction, and cubes, and buttons instead of arithmetic, and hissing and sputtering in teaching the letters, and twenty expensive schools of the [new] pattern, instead of the needed four hundred, popular, cheap schools...
The masses are the chief interested person and the judge, and now do not pay a particle of attention to our more or less ingenious discussions about the manner in which the spiritual food of education is best to be prepared for them. They do not care, because they are firmly convinced that in the great business of their mental development they will not make a false step, and will not accept what is bad, -- and it would be like making pease stick to the wall to attempt to educate, direct, and teach them in the [new] fashion.
