But we are wandering a little from our subject; which is, in this part of our chapter, the methods of examining a class, not of giving or fixing instructions.

Another mode of examining classes, which it is important to describe, consists in requiring written answers to the questions asked. The form and manner, in which this plan may be adopted, is various. The class may bring their slates to the recitation, and the teacher may propose questions successively, the answers to which all the class may write, numbering them carefully. After a dozen answers are written, the teacher may call, at random, for them; or he may repeat a question, and ask each pupil to read the answer he had written; or he may examine the slates. Perhaps this method may be very successfully employed in reviews, by dictating to the class, a list of questions, relating to the ground they have gone over, for a week, and to which they are to prepare answers, written out at length, and to be brought in at the next exercise. This method may be made more formal still, by requiring a class to write a full and regular abstract of all they have learned, during a specified time. The practice of thus reducing to writing what has been learned, will be attended with many advantages, so obvious that they need not be described.

It will be perceived that three methods of examining classes have now been named, and these will afford the teacher the means of introducing a very great variety, in his mode of conducting his recitations, while he still carries his class forward steadily in their prescribed course. Each is attended with its peculiar advantages. The single replies, coming from individuals specially addressed, are more rigid, and more to be relied upon;—but they consume a great deal of time, and while one is questioned, it requires much skill, to keep up interest in the rest. The simultaneous answers of a class awaken more general interest, but it is difficult, without special care, to secure, by this means, a thorough examination of all. The written replies, are more thorough, but they require more time, and attention, and while they habituate the pupil to express his thoughts in writing, they would, if exclusively adopted, fail to accustom him to an equally important practice, that of the oral communication of his thoughts. A constant variety, of which these three methods should be the elements, is unquestionably the best mode. We not only, by this means, secure in a great degree the advantages which each is fitted to produce, but we gain, also, the additional advantage and interest of variety.

By these, and perhaps by other means, it is the duty of the teacher to satisfy himself that his pupils are really attentive to their duties. It is not perhaps necessary, that every individual should be, every day, minutely examined; this is, in many cases, impossible. But the system of examination should be so framed, and so administered, as to be daily felt by all, and to bring upon every one, a daily responsibility.

We come now to consider the second general head, which was to be discussed in this chapter.

The study of books alone, is insufficient to give knowledge to the young. In the first stage, learning to read, a book is of no use whatever, without the voice of the living teacher. The child cannot take a step alone. As the pupil, however, advances in his course, his dependence upon his teacher for guidance and help, continually diminishes, until, at last, the scholar sits in his solitary study, with no companion but his books, and desiring, for a solution of every difficulty, nothing but a larger library. In schools, however, the pupils have made so little progress in this course, that they all need more or less of this oral assistance. Difficulties must be explained; questions must be answered; the path must be smoothed, and the way pointed out, by a guide, who has travelled it before, or it will be impossible for the pupil to go on. This is the part of our subject, which we now approach.

The great principle which is to guide the teacher, in this part of his duty, is this; Assist your pupils, in such a way, as to lead them, as soon as possible, to do without assistance. This is fundamental. In a short time they will be away from your reach; they will have no teacher to consult; and unless you teach them how to understand books themselves, they must necessarily stop suddenly in their course, the moment you cease to help them forward. I shall proceed, therefore, to consider the subject, in the following plan:—

1. Means of exciting interest in study.

2. The kind and degree of assistance to be rendered.

3. Miscellaneous suggestions.

1. Interesting the pupils in their studies. There are various principles of human nature, which may be of great avail, in accomplishing this object. Making intellectual effort, and acquiring knowledge, are always pleasant to the human mind, unless some peculiar circumstances render them otherwise. The teacher has, therefore, only to remove obstructions, and sources of pain, and the employment of his pupils will be, of itself, a pleasure.

"I am going to give you a new exercise to-day," said a teacher to a class of boys, in Latin. "I am going to have you parse your whole lesson, in writing. It will be difficult, but I think you may be able to accomplish it."

The class looked surprised. They did not know what parsing in writing could be.

"You may first, when you take your seats, and are ready to prepare the lesson, write upon your slates, a list of the ten first nouns, arranging them in a column. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes sir."

"Then rule lines for another column, just beyond this. In parsing nouns, what is the first particular to be named?"

"What the noun is from."

"Yes; that is, its nominative. Now you may write, at the head of the first column, the word Nouns, and at the head of the second, Nom., for nominative. Then rule a line for the third column. What shall this contain?" "The declension." "Yes; and the fourth?" "Gender." "The fifth?" "Number."

In the same manner the other columns were designated; the sixth, was to contain case; the seventh, the word, with which the noun was connected, in construction; and the eighth, a reference to the rule.

"Now I wish you," continued the teacher, "to fill up such a table as this, with ten nouns. Do you understand how I mean?"

"Yes sir;" "No sir;" they answered, variously.

"All who do understand may take their seats; as I wish to give as little explanation, as possible. The more you can depend upon yourselves, the better."

Those who saw clearly what was to be done, left the class, and the teacher continued his explanation to those who were left behind. He made the plan perfectly clear to them, by taking a particular noun, and running it through the table, showing what should be written opposite to the word, in all the columns; and then dismissed them.

The class separated, as every class would, in such a case, with strong interest in the work before them. It was not so difficult as to perplex them, and yet it required attention and care. They were interested and pleased;—pleased with the effort which it required them to make, and they anticipated, with interest and pleasure, the time of coming again to the class, to report and compare their work.

When the time for the class came, the teacher addressed them somewhat as follows:

"Before looking at your slates, I am going to predict what the faults are. I have not seen any of your work, but shall judge altogether from my general knowledge of school-boys, and the difficulties I know they meet with Do you think I shall succeed?"

The scholars made no reply, and an unskilful teacher would imagine, that time spent in such remarks, would be wholly wasted. By no means. The influence of it was to awaken universal interest in the approaching examination of the slates. Every scholar would be intent, watching, with eager interest, to see whether the imagined faults would be found upon his work. The class was, by that single pleasant remark, put into the best possible state, for receiving the criticisms of the teacher.

"The first fault, which I suppose will be found, is, that some are unfinished."

The scholars looked surprised. They did not expect to have that called a fault.

"How many plead guilty to it?"

A few raised their hands, and the teacher continued.

"I suppose that some will be found partly effaced. The slates were not laid away carefully, or they were not clean, so that the writing is not distinct. How many find this the case with their work?"

"I suppose that, in some cases, the lines will not be perpendicular, but will slant, probably towards the left, like writing."

"I suppose also, that, in some cases, the writing will be careless, so that I cannot easily read it. How many plead guilty to this?"

After mentioning such other faults as occurred to him, relating chiefly to the form of the table, and the mere mechanical execution of the work, he said:

"I think I shall not look at your slates to-day. You can all see, I have no doubt, how you can considerably improve them, in mechanical execution, in your next lesson; and I suppose you would a little prefer that I should not see your first imperfect efforts. In fact, I should rather not see them. At the next recitation, they probably will be much better."

One important means by which the teacher may make his scholars careful of their reputation, is to show them, thus, that he is careful of it himself.

Now, in such a case as this, for it is, except in the principles which it is intended to illustrate, imaginary, a very strong interest would be awakened in the class, in the work assigned them. Intellectual effort, in new and constantly varied modes, is in itself a pleasure, and this pleasure the teacher may deepen and increase very easily, by a little dexterous management, designed to awaken curiosity, and concentrate attention. It ought, however, to be constantly borne in mind, that this variety should be confined, to the modes of pursuing an object, which is permanent, and constant, and steadily pursued. For instance, if a little class are to be taught simple addition, after the process is once explained, which may be done, perhaps, in two or three lessons, they will need many days of patient practice, to render it familiar, to impress it firmly in their recollection, and to enable them to work with rapidity. Now this object must be steadily pursued. It would be very unwise for the teacher to say to himself; my class are tired of addition, I must carry them on to subtraction, or give them some other study. It would be equally unwise, to keep them many days performing example after example, in monotonous succession, each lesson a mere repetition of the last. He must steadily pursue his object, of familiarizing them fully with this elementary process, but he may give variety and spirit to the work, by changing occasionally the modes. One week he may dictate examples to them, and let them come together to compare their results; one of the class being appointed to keep a list of all who are correct, each day. At another time, each one may write an example, which he may read aloud to all the others, to be performed and brought in at the next time. Again, he may let them work on paper, with pen and ink, that he may see how few mistakes they make, as mistakes in ink, cannot be easily removed. He may excite interest by devising ingenious examples, such as finding out how much all the numbers from one to fifty will make, when added together, or the amount of the ages of the whole class; or any such example, the result of which they might feel a little interest in learning. Thus the object is steadily pursued, though the means of pursuing it, are constantly changing. We have the advantage of regular progress in the acquisition of knowledge truly valuable, while this progress is made, with all the spirit and interest which variety can give.

The necessity of making such efforts as this, however, to keep up the interest of the class in their work, and to make it pleasant to them, will depend altogether upon circumstances; or rather, it will vary much with circumstances. A class of pupils somewhat advanced in their studies, and understanding and feeling the value of knowledge, will need very little of such effort as this; while young and giddy children, who have been accustomed to dislike books and school, and every thing connected with them, will need more. It ought, however, in all cases, to be made a means, not an end;—the means to lead on a pupil to an interest in progress in knowledge itself, which is, after all, the great motive, which ought to be brought, as soon and as extensively as possible, to operate in the school-room.

Another way to awaken interest in the studies of the school, is to bring out as frequently, and as distinctly, as possible, the connexion between these studies and the practical business of life. The events which are occurring around you, and which interest the community in which you are placed, may, by a little ingenuity, be connected, in a thousand ways, with the studies of the school. If the practice, which has been already repeatedly recommended, of appropriating a quarter of an hour, each day, to a general exercise, should be adopted, it will afford great facilities for doing this.

Suppose, for example, while the question between the General Government and the State of South Carolina, was pending, and agitating the whole country, almost every one looking, with anxious interest, every day, for intelligence from the scene of the conflict, that the teacher of a school, had brought up the subject, at such a general exercise as has been mentioned. He describes, in a few words, the nature of the question, and, in such a manner, as to awaken, throughout the school, a strong interest in the result of the contest. He then says,

"I wish now to make you all more fully acquainted with this case, and the best way of doing it, which occurs to me, is as follows:

"There are several studies in school, which throw light upon this controversy; especially History, Geography, and Political Economy. Now, I shall take the classes in these studies, for a day or two, out of their regular course, and assign them lessons which relate to this subject, and then hear them recite in the General Exercise, that you may all hear. The first class in Geography may take therefore, for their next lesson, the State of South Carolina; to-morrow they will recite in the hearing of the whole school, when I shall make such additional explanations, as will occur to me. The next day, I shall assign to the class in History, a passage giving an account of the formation of this government; and afterwards lessons will be recited from the Political Class Book, explaining the mode of collecting money for the use of our government, by duties, and the relative powers of the General and State Governments. After hearing all these lessons recited, with my remarks in addition, you will be the better able to understand the subject, and then I shall bring in a newspaper now and then, and keep you acquainted with the progress of the affair."

Now the propriety of taking up the particular subject, which I have here introduced, by way of illustration, in such a way, would depend altogether upon the character and standing of the school; the age and mental maturity of the scholars, and their capacity to understand the circumstances of such a case, and to appreciate those considerations which give interest to it. The principle however, is applicable to all; and one such experiment, dexterously carried through, will do more towards giving boys and girls, clear and practical ideas of the reason why they go to school, and of the importance of acquiring knowledge, than the best lecture on such a subject, which ever was delivered.

There is no branch of study attended to in school, which may, by judicious efforts, be made more effectual in accomplishing this object,—leading the pupils to see the practical utility, and the value of knowledge, than composition. If such subjects as are suitable themes for moral essays, are assigned, the scholars will indeed dislike the work of writing, and derive little benefit from it. The mass of pupils in our schools, are not to be writers of moral essays or orations, and they do not need to form that style of empty, florid, verbose declamation, which the practice of writing composition in our schools, as it is too frequently managed, tends to form. Assign practical subjects,—subjects relating to the business of the school,—or the events taking place around you. Is there a question before the community, on the subject of the location of a new school-house? Assign it to your pupils, as a question for discussion, and direct them not to write empty declamation, but to obtain, from their parents, the real arguments in the case, and to present them, distinctly and clearly, and in simple language, to their companions. Was a building burnt by lightning in the neighborhood? Let those who saw the scene, describe it; their productions to be read by the teacher aloud; and let them see that clear descriptions please, and that good legible writing can be read fluently, and that correct spelling, and punctuation, and grammar, make the article go smoothly and pleasantly, and enable it to produce its full effect. Is a public building going forward in the neighborhood of your school? You can make it a very fruitful source of subjects and questions, to give interest and impulse to the studies of the school-room. Your classes in geometry may measure,—your arithmeticians may calculate, and make estimates,—your writers may describe its progress, from week to week, and anticipate the scenes, which it will in future years exhibit.

By such means, the practical bearings and relations of the studies of the school-room, may he constantly kept in view; but I ought to guard the teacher, while on this subject, most distinctly, against the danger of making the school-room a scene of literary amusement, instead of study. These means of awakening interest, and relieving the tedium of the uninterrupted and monotonous study of text books, must not encroach on the regular duties of the school. They must be brought forward with judgment and moderation, and made subordinate and subservient to these regular duties. Their design is, to give spirit, and interest, and a feeling of practical utility, to what the pupils are doing, and if resorted to, with these restrictions, and within these limits, they will produce powerful, but safe results.

Another way to excite interest, and that of the right kind in school, is not to remove difficulties, but to teach the pupils how to surmount them. A text book so contrived as to make study mere play, and to dispense with thought and effort, is the worst text book that can be made, and the surest to be, in the end, a dull one. The great source of literary enjoyment, which is the successful exercise of intellectual power, is, by such a mode of presenting a subject, cut off. Secure therefore severe study. Let the pupil see that you are aiming to secure it, and that the pleasure which you expect that they will receive, is that of firmly and patiently encountering and overcoming difficulty; of penetrating, by steady and persevering effort, into regions, from which the idle and the inefficient are debarred; and that it is your province to lead them forward, not to carry them. They will soon understand this, and like it.

Never underrate the difficulties which your pupils will have to encounter, or try to persuade them that what you assign is easy. Doing easy things is generally dull work, and it is especially discouraging and disheartening for a pupil to spend his strength in doing what is really difficult for him, when his instructer, by calling his work easy, gives him no credit, for what may have been severe and protracted labor. If a thing is really hard for the pupil, his teacher ought to know it, and admit it. The child then feels that he has some sympathy.

It is astonishing how great an influence may be exerted over a child, by his simply knowing that his efforts are observed and appreciated. You pass a boy in the street, wheeling a heavy load, in a barrow; now simply stop to look at him, with a countenance which says, "that is a heavy load; I should not think that boy could wheel it;" and how quick will your look give fresh strength and vigor to his efforts. On the other hand, when, in such a case, the boy is faltering under his load, try the effect of telling him, "Why, that is not heavy; you can wheel it easily enough; trundle it along." The poor boy will drop his load, disheartened and discouraged, and sit down upon it, in despair. No, even if the work you are assigning to a class is easy, do not tell them so, unless you wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in doing it; and if you wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your work difficult, and let them see that you know it is so. Not so difficult as to tax their powers too heavily, but enough so, to require a vigorous and persevering effort. Let them distinctly understand too, that you know it is difficult,—that you mean to make it so,—but that they have your sympathy and encouragement, in the efforts which it calls them to make.

You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I have described, by some such experiment as the following:—Select two classes, not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each of them the following example in Addition:—

The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or, if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this:—

Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the pupils as follows:

"I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult one that can be made, with the number of figures contained in it, and I do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be surprised if every answer should contain mistakes."

To the other class, say as follows:—

"I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you can all do it correctly, if you really try."

Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with ardor and alacrity; determined to show you that they can do work, even if it is difficult. And if they succeed, they come to the class the next day, with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something, which you admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second class will go to their seats, with murmuring looks and words; and with a hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is really difficult for them, and they have to be perplexed and wearied with the work, without having at last, even the little satisfaction of knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they had to contend.

2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a teacher's work. The great difference, which exists among teachers, in regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here is of more avail, in deciding the question of success or failure, than any thing besides. The first great principle, is, however, simple and effectual.

(1.) Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so short, that the pupil can easily take them.

Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analagous to that of the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by his side, wearying and exhausting himself, with fruitless efforts to reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly, as a full gown man.

But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process, so as to make each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example. I will suppose that the teacher of a common school, undertakes to show his boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but elementary arithmetic, how longitude is ascertained, by means of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, (as it would, at first view, strike one,) but still one which, like all others, may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded to, easily explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a general exercise,—perhaps the question was asked in writing, by one of the older boys. I will present the explanation, chiefly in the form of question and answer, that it may be seen, that the steps are so short, that the boys may take them themselves.

"Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?"

"West," answer two or three of the boys.

In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be general, so that throughout the school, there should be a spirited interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case, if a small number of the boys only take part in the answers; and many teachers complain, that, when they try this experiment, they can seldom induce many of the pupils to take a part.

The reason ordinarily is, that they say that any of the boys may answer, instead of that all of them may. The boys do not get the idea that it is wished that an universal reply should come from all parts of the room in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were feeble, in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say;

"I only heard one or two answers: do not more of you know where the Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think, and answer together? Which way are they from us?"

"West," answer a large number of boys.

"You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have every one in the room answer, and all precisely together."

He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar effort will always succeed.

"Now, does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky Mountains, or over us, first?"

To this question, the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and others still, "The sun does not move at all."

"It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth turns round, presenting the various countries, in succession, to the sun, but the effect is precisely the same as it would be, if the sun moved, and accordingly I use that language. Now, how long does it take the sun to pass round the earth?"

"Twenty four hours."

"Does he go towards the west, or towards the east, from us?"

"Towards the west."

But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil, by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be explained.

"Will the sun go towards, or from, the Rocky Mountains, after leaving us?"

"How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe, and come to us again?"

"How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?"

"How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?"

No answer.

"You cannot tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose then the Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?"

"The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees; 360 in all. How many will the sun pass, in going half round? In going quarter round?"

"Ninety degrees then make one quarter of the circumference of the globe. This you have already said will take six hours. In one hour then, how many degrees will the sun pass over?"

Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question, on the principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the pupils can take them.

"How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?"

"Forty-five."

"How large a part of that, then, will he pass, in one hour?"

"One third of it."

"And what is one third of forty-five?"

The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell for a moment, on the general truth, thus deduced, that the sun, in passing round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour.

"Suppose then it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the river Mississippi, how many degrees west of us, would the river be?"

Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact, that the motion of the sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two places, the teacher must dismiss the subject, for a day, and when the next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would perhaps take up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure of time.

"Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?"

"Is he ever exactly south of us?"

"When he is exactly south of us, or in other words, exactly opposite to us, in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian. For the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any place."

There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point for instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are not in his meridian. But to proceed: