Chapter VIII: Progress as Realization 243 (4)

All proper education is ethical education. How the teacher encourages the acquisition of truth! With what care he corrects error in experiment and inference! With what zeal he leads the pupil to further knowledge! With what feeling he points out beauty in natural forms and in literary art! With what hope he encourages him to overcome difficulties! With what solicitude he regards his ways and his choice of company! What use he makes of every opportunity to emphasize a lesson of justice in this little society of children, which is in many ways a type of the larger society into which the child is to enter! If teachers are learned and skilful, and of strong character, if they awaken interest in studies and not disgust, if they have insight into the moral order of the world as revealed in all departments of learning, the whole curriculum of study, from the kindergarten to the university, will be a disclosure of ethical conceptions, a practice of right activity, an encouragement of right aim. If the better tendencies of the child’s nature are repelled instead of invited, in so far will instruction lack the ethical element. And herein lies the great responsibility of the teacher for his own education, methods, and personal influence.

What are the schools doing for moral training? We believe they are doing much that is satisfactory and encouraging. The public schools have at their command the various ethical forces. They form right habits by every-day requirements of the schoolroom; they provide the personal influence of teachers whose good character is the first passport to their position; they employ the lessons of history and literature, and in distinct ways impart principles of right conduct; they inspire courage to overcome difficulties; they direct the better impulses of children toward discovery in the great world of truth, and, by the very exercise of power required in the process of education, prepare them for life.

CAN VIRTUE BE TAUGHT?

On a certain occasion Socrates assumed the rôle of listener, while Protagoras discoursed upon the theme “Can Virtue Be Taught?” Protagoras shows that there are some essential qualities which, regardless of specific calling, should be common to all men, such as justice, temperance, and holiness—in a word, manly virtue. He holds it absurd and contrary to experience to assume that virtue cannot be taught. He says that, in fact, “Education and admonition commence in the first years of childhood, and last to the very end of life.” Mother and nurse, and father and tutor ceaselessly set forth to the child what is just or unjust, honorable or dishonorable, holy or unholy; the teachers look to his manners, and later put in his hands the works of the great poets, full of moral examples and teachings; the instructor of the lyre imparts harmony and rhythm; the master of gymnastics trains the body to be minister to the virtuous mind; and when the pupil has completed his work with the instructors, the state compels him to learn the laws, and live after the pattern which they furnish. “Cease to wonder, Socrates, whether virtue can be taught.”

We can but accept the principles of Protagoras, that the essential qualities of a rational and moral being are to be considered at each stage of growth and in all relations of life; that all education is to be the ally of virtue. We can but accept, too, the fact that guidance, instruction, and authority help to bring the child to self-realization, and help to determine modes of conduct. The remaining question relates to the ways and means adapted to a given stage of education. When the pupil enters the high school he is already a trained being. His training, however, has been more or less mechanical. He is now at an age when his capacity, his studies, and his social relations admit him to a broader field—a field in which he makes essays at independent action; when his physical development brings new problems and dangers; when contact with the world begins to acquaint him with the vicious maxims of selfish men; when there is a tendency to break away from the moral codes, without the wisdom of experience to guide him in his growing freedom. It is a critical period—one that tests in new ways his mental and moral balance. If the pupil is not wrecked here, he has many chances in his favor, although the college or business life or society may later sorely tempt him. That the teachings and influences of the period of secondary education have much to do with making character is recognized by the colleges. Some schools become known for the vigor of their intellectual and ethical training, and the successful preparation of their pupils to meet the demands and temptations of college life. The subject of ethics in the high school thus becomes a proper one for inquiry.

Shall we employ the formal study of ethics? Hardly. The scientific or theoretical treatment of the subject belongs to the period of reflection, of subjective insight, and should follow psychology, if not philosophy. Such study hardly accomplishes much practically until experience and reflection have given one an interest in the deepest problems of life. It belongs to a period when the commonplaces are fraught with meaning, when a rational conviction has the force which Socrates gave to insight into wisdom—when to understand virtue is to conform the life to it. But, nevertheless, the whole period of high-school work should be a contribution to the end of moral character. Let us get rid, at the outset, of the idea that a moral life is a mechanical obedience to rules and conventionalities, a cut-and-dried affair, a matter that lies in but one province of our nature, a formalism, and learn that the whole being, its purposes and activities, the heroic impulses and the commonplace duties lie within its circle. Everything a man is and does, learns and becomes, constitutes his moral character.

Ethics is the science of conduct—conduct on both its subjective and its objective side. It considers the relation of the self to all consequences of an act as foreseen and chosen by the self, and to the same consequences as outwardly expressed. Practically it teaches control of impulse with reference to results as expressing and revealing the character—results both immediate and remote. Some acts show a one-sided inclination, uncontrolled by regard for the claims of other and better impulses; only a part of the individual is asserted, not the whole self in perfect balance. For example, the pupil plays truant, acting with sole regard for the impulse to seek ease and sensuous pleasure. He neglects other more important impulses, all of which might have been satisfied by attending faithfully to his school duties: the impulse of ambition, to gain power and become a useful and successful citizen; the desire for culture, with all its superior values; the impulse of wonder, leading ever to the acquisition of knowledge; the impulse of admiration, to seek and appreciate the beautiful; the filial and social affections, which regard the feelings and wishes of the home and the sentiments of companions; the impulse to gratitude, as shown toward parents and teachers; the sentiment of reverence, as shown toward law and order and those who stand as their representatives. And all these neglected demands rise up and condemn him; he is divided from himself and his fair judgment, is not his complete self. On the other hand, the pupil spends the day in devotion to work, he maintains the integrity and balance of his nature, gives each impulse due consideration and makes a symmetrical and moral advance in his development. In restraining the impulse to play truant, he does justice to all the claims of his being; the resulting values as estimated in subjective experiences are the highest possible—the act is good. The problem, then, is to bring the pupil to a fuller understanding of the character of his impulses to action, and the relative value of each. In many ways the neglected elements of his nature may be brought into consciousness and emphasized. Everything that creates conceptions of ideal conduct, all concrete illustrations in the social life of the school, all conscious exercise of power in right ways, contribute toward his self-realization. The high-school pupil has not had a large personal experience; hence the need, in the ways proposed, of teaching virtue. In the first place, the situation is advantageous. It is conceded by every school of ethical thinkers that one finds his moral awakening in contact with society. Society is the mirror in which one sees a reflection of himself, and comes to realize himself and his character. The school of the people, which is in an important sense an epitome of that larger world which he is to enter, furnishes an admirable field for development. Moreover, it is a community where the restraint, the guidance, the ideals come of right from properly constituted authority. The whole problem of objective relations and corresponding subjective values may find illustration and experiment in the daily life of the school. The constructive imagination may be employed to infer from experiences in school to larger experiences of kindred quality in the field of life. By judging real or supposed cases of conduct the pupil makes at least a theoretical choice. By learning and interpreting characters and events in history his view is broadened.

The whole school curriculum should contribute to moral development. Whatever of intellect, emotion, and will is exercised in a rational field expands the soul normally. The pursuit of studies with the right spirit, and with regard for the activities and relations incidental thereto, is moral growth. Studies awaken rational interest, cultivate habits of industry, are devoted to the discovery of truth, reveal important relations of the individual to society, and present the purest ideals of the race. There is hardly a more valuable moralizer than healthy employment itself, employment that engages the whole man—perception, imagination, thought, emotion, and will—employment that looks toward ennobling and useful consequences, employment that has the sanction of every consideration that regards man’s full development. If the studies of the high-school course do not make for good, it is because they fail to get hold of the pupil, to awaken his interest and energies. If the subject matter and the instruction are adapted to the pupil’s need, if conceptions are clearly grasped, if healthy interest is aroused and the attention turns spontaneously to the work, the pupil’s growth will be in every way beneficent. One who regards the moral development of his pupils will conscientiously study the method of his teaching, and learn whether the source of neglect and rebellion lies there.

The personality of the teacher is one of the most important factors in ethical training. It is ethics teaching by example; it is the living embodiment of conduct. The ideas that find expression in the life of the teacher are likely to be imitated. The sympathy of the teacher with the endeavor of the pupil infuses life into his effort. We do not refer to a certain kind of personal magnetism; this may be pernicious in the extreme. It may exist to the extent of partially hypnotizing the independent life of the pupil, robbing him for a time of part of his individuality. The ideal instructor should be earnest and noble, impressing one with the goodness, dignity, and meaning of life. An easy-going regard for duties, a half-way attachment to labor are sure to impress themselves on the minds of pupils; as readily will honor, sincerity, and pure ideals be reflected in their endeavors. You will ask: What are some of the specific ways in which a teacher may direct his efforts? We often look far for the means of accomplishment when they are already at hand. The means of moral influence are not the exclusive possession of learning or genius; they may be used by every teacher, and we should have faith in what the schools are already doing to make good character. The successful use of methods depends upon the teacher’s judgment and tact. One may do harm by conscientious but ill-directed effort. With Solomon we must remember that there is a time for everything. Amongst other impulses, natural or acquired, the pupil has impulses to regard honor, honesty, truthfulness, gentlemanliness, good thoughts, respect, gratitude, sympathy, industry, usefulness. In a fit of rage, with desire to harm the object of his vindictiveness, he may disregard nearly every one of the above qualities. The impulse of anger acts blindly, heedless of external consequences and of the subjective values that attach to the execution of every desire. All cases of bad conduct, varying in degree, show a similar disproportionate estimate of the value of motives. Our problem is to plant in the consciousness of the pupil an appreciation of neglected qualities. It may be noted in passing that there are some cases of physical tendency, amounting to monomania. Conscious wrong never is able fully to conceal itself, and when the truth becomes evident to the teacher, as it may, he should seek the confidence of the home, and through the home the influence upon the pupil of a trusted physician who possesses both medical skill and moral force.

In approaching the specific ways of moral education, we may first make our obeisance to habit. The limitations as to time, place, and activity, which are incidental to all school life, help to form habits which turn the growing youth still more from the condition of uncontrolled liberty into one of well-regulated conduct, civilize him, and make him a fit member of society. Habits of regard for the rights of others further lay the foundation of altruism. Habit has its value. It establishes tendencies of conduct, although in a more or less mechanical way, which make easier the adherence to virtue in the advanced period of reflective insight. Too, these same duties mechanically performed may later be known in their full significance, and become moral acts.

The judicious use of maxims, also, has a value. Maxims are the first formal expression of the experience of the race as to the things to do or avoid. Since we act from ideas, maxims may serve practically for many concrete cases. This is especially true if the full meaning of a maxim has been presented. Next to maxims, and greater in importance, are the events and characters of history and biography. Embodied virtues and vices, real events that show the movements and reveal the motives of a people, appeal strongly to the interest. Yet, being remote in time and place, they allow the freest discussion and may be made permanent types for the instruction and improvement of mankind. The value lies in the fact that qualities thus known hasten the self-realization of the same qualities. The life of a Socrates, an Aristides, of a Cato, a Savonarola, a Luther, a Cromwell, a Lincoln, a Whittier, of all men and women who exemplify virtue, heroism, self-denial, all struggles for the right, are the high-water mark for every aspiring nature. And in the teaching of history and biography it is not necessary at every turn to deliver a homily; rather lead the pupil into the spirit and understanding of the subject—some things shine with their own light.

A yet more fertile source of ideal conceptions is the choice literature of the world. From this rich treasury we draw the poetry which we apply to life. In literature truth is given life and color, idealized and made attractive. Qualities are abstracted, refined, perfected, and glorified. They serve to show us the meaning of those qualities in us. Literature presents emotions that in their purity and refinement seem to transcend the material world; heroes and martyrs idealized and embodying self-sacrifice and devotion; sentiments that touch the whole range of chords in the heart and awaken tenderness or heroism. The pupil reads Homer and gains conceptions of heroic virtues; the “Lays of Ancient Rome,” and gains ideas of perfect honor and devotion to country; Tennyson, and he follows the pure conceptions and feels that life has taken on a nobler coloring; Carlyle’s doctrine of work and duty, and feels his moral sinews strengthened. Thoughts that aspire, emotions of transcendent worth, courage, heroism, benevolence, devotion to country or humanity—all these are at the command of the instructor, if he has the skill to lead the pupil into the spirit and understanding of literature. If he has not the skill, let him not touch it.

The study of science itself offers opportunities. Science searches for truth, judges not hastily, removes all prejudice, employs the judicial spirit. It should suggest lessons in fairness, justice, and truth in the field of human conduct. Hasty inference, prejudiced judgment are responsible for half the sins of this world, and the scientific spirit should be made to pass from the abstract field over into practical life.

Something can be done by daily assembly of pupils. While men have various occupations, there are certain interests that belong to men as men, as human beings. As there are hymns set to noble music which are sung for centuries without diminution of interest, because they are adapted to the want of man’s essential nature, so there are gems of æsthetic and ethical literature which have stood the test of time and are approved by common consent. The reading of vigorous, healthful selections can but have an influence sooner or later upon the listener. The teacher, in a brief address, may express some thought or experience or ideal or sentiment, that will reach the inner life. In no way, however, will the good sense and skill of the teacher be put to severer test than in the selection of these teachings. They easily become monotonous instead of giving vital interest.

Professor John Dewey, in an admirable article on the subject of interest, defines it thus: “Interest is impulse functioning with reference to an idea of self-expression.” He further says: “The real object of desire is not pleasure, but self-expression.... The pleasure felt is simply the reflex of the satisfaction which the self is anticipating in its own expression.... Pleasure arrives, not as the goal of an impulse, but as an accompaniment of the putting forth of activity.” These expressions mean simply that the human being has native impulses to activity; that these impulses, under rational control, aim at proper ends; that pleasure is not the end of action but merely accompanies the putting forth of activity; that interest is the mental excitement that arises when the self-active mind has an end in view and the means of its attainment—a feeling that binds the attention to the end and the means. His doctrine denies hedonism. We are not to aim at a good, but to act the good. We are not to work for the pleasure, but to find pleasure in working. This is a doctrine of vast importance to the educator. External and unworthy rewards for effort are false motives. The work itself must furnish interest, because suited to the activities of the pupil. The great problem of the teacher is to invite a self-activity that finds its reward in the activity.

False motives should not be held before pupils. There is a view of life called romanticism, the condemnation of which gives Nordau his one virtue. The adherents claim for themselves the fill of a constantly varying round of completely satisfying emotional life. The history of prominent adherents of this view is a warning to this generation. The devotees either become rational and satirize their own folly, or become pessimists, railing at the whole that life has to offer, or commit suicide, and thus well rid the world of their useless presence. Carlyle points out that not all the powers of christendom combined could suffice to make even one shoeblack happy. If he had one half the universe he would set about the conquest of the other half. And then follows the grand exhortation to useful labor, the performance of duty, as the lasting source of satisfaction. If we do not find happiness therein, we may get along without happiness and, instead thereof, find blessedness. This is the doctrine of Goethe’s Faust. Faust at first wishes to enjoy everything and do nothing. He runs the whole round of pleasure, of experience, and emotional life, and finds satisfaction in nothing. Finally, in the second book, he finds the supreme moment in the joy of useful labor for his fellow men. It is to be noted, however, that as soon as he is fully satisfied he dies, as, metaphorically, people in that state always do. Pleasure does not make life worth living, but living the fulness of our nature is living a life of worth.

Laying aside all theories, even the theoretical correctness of what follows, it is necessary to hold practically to the transcendental will. This is a large word, but it means simply going over beyond the mere solicitation of present pleasure, and holding with wisdom and courage to the claims of all the impulses of our being—in a word, living a life of integrity. The transcendental will can suffer and persevere and refuse pleasure, and endure and work out good and useful results. It is important to give pupils a little touch of the heroic, else they will be the sport of every wind that blows and least of all be able to withstand the tempest or the wintry blast.

There is a well-worn figure of speech, essentially Platonic in its character, which, once well in the mind of a young man or woman, will surely influence the life for good. As the healthy tree grows and expands in symmetry, beauty, and strength, and blossoms and yields useful fruit, instead of being dwarfed or growing in distorted and ugly forms, so the normal soul should expand and develop in vigor and beauty of character, and blossom and yield a life of usefulness. A stunted soul, one that has gone all awry, is a spectacle over which men and gods may weep. In some way the nobility of life, the grandeur of upright character must be impressed upon the mind of youth.

And moral growth must be growth in freedom. Rules and maxims, petty prohibitions, and restraints alone will not make morality, but rather bare mechanism and habit. Moral freedom means that, by an insight that comes of right development, one views the full bearing of any problem of conduct, and chooses with a wisdom that is his own. Morality is not mechanism, but insight. Doctrine does not constitute morality. Pharisaism is immorality and will drive any one to rebellion and sin. Mechanical rule has no vitalizing power. A moral life should be self-active, vigorous, joyous, and free. So far as spontaneous conduct can be made to take the place of rule and restraint will you secure a growth that will expand, when, well-rooted by your fostering care, you finally leave it to struggle with the elements.

Following in substance the thought of a prominent educator,—not so much pedagogical preaching as skilful stimulating, not so much perfect ideals as present activities, not so much compulsion as inviting self-activity are to-day the needs of the schools. Through guidance of present interest the child may later attain to the greater interests of life in their full comprehension.

COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY.[2]

Touching the theme of higher education, inquiries were sent to a large number of universities, colleges, and secondary schools. The first two questions related to the work of secondary education, and were as follows: (1) What should the high-school graduate be when entering college? (2) What does he lack of an ideal education when he enters? Considering the general character of the questions, the answers were all that might be expected, and they are valuable for the limit of their range, as well as for what they express, since they show that, concerning the main purpose of education, there is nothing new to be said.

The following are opinions that represent the majority or appear important as individual views: (1) The high-school graduate, when entering college, should possess a mind educated by methods that create interest and make power to think and generalize—power to do original work. (2) He should have an acquaintance with each field of knowledge, and should show a symmetrical development of his mental activities. (3) As tending to produce greater interest, knowledge, and power, he should have been trained in only a limited number of subjects in each field; in these subjects the work should have been continuous and intensive. (4) He should have good command of English. (5) He should be well-grounded in right habits and moral principles—the practice of self-control.

While this inquiry is not strictly upon the subject, it shows that the difficult problems of university life are to be solved in part by the secondary schools, and that some of the failures in higher education are due to the imperfections of earlier training. It also introduces part of the discussion that follows.

The third question pertained to higher education: What should the college or university do for the high-school graduate? Some of the more important opinions received may be expressed as follows:

(a) It should supplement the failures of his earlier training. There should be no chasm between secondary and higher education.

(b) It should give him a liberal education; it should offer him a course that has unity and harmony. It should cultivate the power of research. It should teach him to bring all his knowledge and all his power to bear on the problems of life.

(c) It should make him broad, and then deep in some subject. It should start him in lines of study leading to his life work.

(d) It should give him high ideals of private and civic conduct; it should make a man of him.

To consider merely the subject of college ideals would be trite and unprofitable, and some latitude will be used in the discussion.

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The influence of the college should be felt in the work of preparation. That the college should be closely articulated with the high schools is an idea of modern date, but one that now is received with growing favor. An examination of the admission requirements of the colleges still shows a variety of demands, having no common basis in principles of education, in the standard courses of high schools, or in uniform agreement. The requirements of some colleges are imperative for specific subjects that are not fundamental, but merely rank with a series of allied subjects in a given field of knowledge. Often a method of work acceptable to one college would be rejected by another. Among reputable institutions the height of the standard varies by two years.

The dissatisfaction of the high schools with these evils is deep-seated and wide-spread. The fault rests mainly with the colleges and universities, and the reasons that maintain unessential distinctions are absurd in the eyes of secondary-school men. If absolute uniformity in college admission is not feasible, a reasonable choice of equivalents within a given department of knowledge may be allowed. At least a plan of admission may be “_organized without uniformity_.” A college has been known to refuse four years’ excellent work in science as a substitute for some chapters in a particular book on physical geography. In another instance a certain scientific school, requiring two years of preparation in Latin, refused a four years’ course in Latin in lieu of the prescribed number of books in Cæsar. A joint committee has recently been appointed by the Department of Higher Education and the Department of Secondary Education, of the National Educational Association, to consider further the basis of connection between the high schools and the colleges. This committee consists of eminent and able men, who will accomplish important results, if given proper encouragement and aid by the National Association, and if the various local associations coöperate, instead of fostering organized differences.[3] The report of the Committee of Ten did much to prepare the way for a more complete and satisfactory connection between the colleges and the high schools, but much remains to be done which may well be undertaken by this joint committee. It is interesting to note that one of the longest sections in the report of the Royal Commission on Secondary Education is on the “Relation of the University to Secondary Education,” and that the importance of a close connection is emphasized and the means of securing it is suggested.

The work of secondary education must be based on pedagogical principles and adapted to the stage of development which it represents, and the colleges must take up the work where the high schools leave it. Whatever is best for a given period of growth is also good preparation for what follows. There should be no _saltus_ in the process of general education. We do not mean that the colleges are not to help determine the preparatory courses of study; but they must regard the natural order of development in grades below the college as well as ideal college standards.

By a closer union with the high schools, the colleges may help to fashion their courses, improve their methods, and may suggest the importance of placing college-educated men and women in charge of the various departments of high-school work. The report of the Royal Commission previously referred to, discussing the preparation of teachers for the secondary schools, says: “So far as regards general education, they will obtain it, and, in our opinion, ought to obtain it, not in special seminaries, but in the same schools and universities as are resorted to by persons desiring to enter the other professions. The more attractive the profession becomes, the larger will be the number of teachers who will feel that they ought to fit themselves for it by a university course.” The report further says: “Whatever professional education is provided for teachers ought to have both a theoretical and a practical side.... Freedom and variety would, in our opinion, be best secured, if the universities were to take up the task; ... and, if the science of education is to make good the claims put forward in its behalf, it ought to be studied where other branches of mental and moral philosophy are fully handled by the ablest professors.”

Many colleges are doing much to increase laboratory practice in the high schools, to cultivate the spirit of investigation, to limit the number of subjects and secure good results. In one of the new States, Colorado, the principle is generally recognized that a good preparatory education is also a good general education, and that every high school is, therefore, a preparatory school. The secondary-school period is maintained at four years, laboratories are provided in all the schools, and Latin and German, if not Greek, are found in all. These results are largely due to the close relation in that State between secondary and higher education.

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In the second group of opinions quoted, the philosophy is Platonic rather than materialistic or utilitarian. It makes a student a man of ideal powers, possibilities, and aspirations. He possesses a nature whose development is an end in itself, whose well-being is of prime consideration. Liberal education aims to give the student a conscious realization of his powers, without reference to material advantage through their use in a given occupation or profession. Through liberal education the student acquires ideas of universal interest and essential character. He gains a comprehensive view that enables him to estimate things at their relative value, to learn the place, use, and end of each.

That liberal education should remain the ideal of at least a large part of the college course, most educators agree. Were this function of the college not a distinctive and essential one, that department of learning would of necessity be abandoned, and the direct road to practical business would be pursued. Recent addresses, representing three of the greatest American universities, agree that the function of the college is to be maintained, and that acquaintance with the several fields of knowledge is necessary to the very idea of liberal education. They agree to include the field of the languages and literature, the field of the sciences and mathematics, the subjective field, that of philosophy and psychology. In a late report of the Commissioner of Education appears a German criticism of American education, which mentions the lack of linguistic training. The writer says: “The consequences are seen in the defective linguistic-logical discipline of the mind, which perhaps more than the discipline in the mathematical forms of thought is a requisite of all profound intellectual progress, be that in linguistic or in mathematical and scientific branches.” In the University of Berlin, philosophy is a required subject for all degrees.

The conservation of the ideals of the race is largely the work of liberally educated men. Some one has argued that not through education, but through a higher standard of society and politics, will the youth of the land be reached; but society and politics depend upon ideal education and the church for their own purification.

The power of research is characteristic of modern university training and is essential to a liberal education, as giving one the mastery of his powers. Carlyle was not far from the right when he said that the true university is a library. The ability to use a library is one criterion of successful college work. Here the student gathers his own material, uses his own discrimination, formulates his opinions in the light of numerous facts and opinions, and gains self-reliance. It is the scientific method, as taught by Socrates, applied to all fields of study. This is the kind of work that prepares the student to grapple with the practical problems of the day.

The opinion that some portion of the college work should be prescribed appears to be well founded. This view is strengthened by the fact that many high schools are weak in one or more departments of preparation. A minimum of required work in leading departments of the college will tend to supply the deficiencies of previous training. From an inspection of the latest college catalogues it appears that all colleges exercise some kind of supervision over the choice of studies, and many of them prescribe and determine the order of more than half the curriculum. In choice of electives many require the group system, in order that consistency may be maintained and that a definite result in some line of work may be reached.

The line of demarcation between college and university work is a variable, and the problem of definitely locating it is perplexing in the extreme. Many believe they see signs of segmentation at the end of the junior year and predict that the senior year will adhere to the graduate school. There are many evidences that somewhere along the line the period of general education will be shortened, and the tendency to specialize before the end of the college course is one proof that the change is demanded. Historically the college in America stands as a whole for liberal education, but in its later development the standard has been advanced and the period of professional education has been lengthened until the problem presents new phases demanding important readjustments. Replies recently received from many institutions of higher learning, touching this question, show a variety of opinions. One correspondent pithily says, “Verily, we are a smattering folk. I believe both the college and the professional course should be lengthened.” President Eliot advocates “a three years’ course for the A.B., without disguises or complications.” Estimating the replies already received numerically, something more than half favor some kind of time readjustment, to the end that the period covered by the college and the professional school may be shortened one year.

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While defending liberal education, it may be held that, especially while a four years’ college course is maintained, it should also look toward the world of active influence, and the filling of some vocation therein. The student’s duties toward society must take on the modern aspect, as contrasted with the self-centred interest of the mediæval recluse. That education should aim at mere serene enjoyment of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good is an idea of the past. The mere recluse to-day has no meaning and no use in the world. Educated men must join the march of progress; they must take part in the solution of ethical problems, in the bettering of government and society. The world demands of them altruism, public spirit, high ideals. They should mass the forces of the past for an onward movement in the present. Old knowledge should reach out toward new and useful applications.

To these ends the college should provide for a deeper knowledge of some subject or group of related subjects. This is an essential element of general education, and also has a practical aim. The principles of the philosophical and social sciences should find concrete illustration in the present. And above all, student life should be inspired with ideas of the duties and responsibilities of citizenship.

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A public statement has been made that the seniors of a well-known university have less intellectual vigor and less moral power than the average man they might meet on the streets. If the charge be true, it is a matter for serious thought, but the statement should be swallowed with a large grain of salt. It may, however, serve as a text. The college must assume an amount of responsibility for the character of the undergraduate student. There has been a natural reaction against some of the unwise requirements of twenty-five years ago, but the reaction may have gone too far. One of our famous universities ten years ago adopted the policy of leaving the student to his own devices and the moral restraint of the policeman, but the plan was condemned by the patrons of the institution, and to-day it exercises a wise and friendly care over the student’s choice of studies, his attendance upon lectures, and his daily walk and conversation. Entire freedom in student life belongs only to the graduate schools, and to place both undergraduate and graduate students under one system can but prove harmful.

The ethical problems of college life are not to be solved wholly by perfunctory religious exercises, but by the spirit that pervades the whole teaching and student body, and by the many ways and means that the united efforts of earnest and devoted faculties may employ. It is a favorable circumstance that the student to an extent can choose subjects in accord with his tastes; that his powers may reach out toward some great intellectual interest. That the spirit of education is broader, more liberal, and scientific is significant; the fact makes for truth and honesty. The historical method succeeds the dogmatic in history, social science, philosophy, and ethics. Men are better because they are broader and wiser and are coming to a higher realization of truth.

No doubt the ethical life has the deepest significance for man. The great Fichte was right in claiming that, if this is merely a subjectively phenomenal world, it is a necessary creation of mind that we may have it wherein to work and ethically develop. That institution will turn out the best men where the Baconian philosophy is combined with the Platonic, the scientific with the ideal. By some means the student should constantly come in contact with strong manhood and high ideals. It makes a practical difference whether the student believes in his transcendent nature and possibilities or in mere materialism and utilitarianism, whether his ethics is ideal or hedonistic, his view of life optimistic or pessimistic.

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If the question is made distinct, What should the university do for the student?—there are some additional considerations.

It is enough to say of graduate courses that they should be a warrant for extended and thorough knowledge of a group of related subjects, and for original power to grasp and deal with difficult problems. The candidate’s knowledge and power should be publicly tested by a good old-fashioned examination and defence of thesis.

The university should refuse to admit the student to the professional schools until he has received at least the equivalent of a complete high-school education. The faculties of the University of Colorado have made an investigation of the standard of admission to the professional schools, the length of professional courses, and the relation of the professional courses to the college. The results are of interest.[4] Very few schools of applied science in the universities require four years of preparation. Only three or four universities require that standard for their law or medical schools. Most catalogues read after this fashion: Admission to law or medical school—a college diploma, or a high-school diploma, or a second-grade teacher’s certificate, or evidence of fitness to pursue the subject. Less than half of the law schools require entrance qualifications, and only twenty of them require a three years’ course. All medical schools advocate a thorough scientific foundation, many of them in a very ideal way, and urge extensive laboratory practice in many special subjects. The most of them think the first two years of a medical course could well be spent without clinical work. Many colleges and collegiate departments of universities provide electives that are accepted by some schools of theology, law, or medicine for their regular first-year work. In rare instances, studies covering two years are made common to the college and the professional schools. But only a few universities have within their own organization a plan for shortening the period of college and professional study.

The “Report on Legal Education,” 1893, issued by the United States Bureau of Education, says: “Admission to the bar in all Continental (European) countries is obtained through the universities which are professional schools for the four learned professions—theology, medicine, law, and philosophy. In England and America the colleges and universities are chiefly schools for general culture; only a few offer provision for thorough professional studies. While in England and America the erroneous idea is still predominant that a collegiate education need not necessarily precede professional study, in Continental Europe it is made a _conditio sine qua non_. No one more needs than the lawyer the power of general education to grasp all the facts relating to a subject, to weigh their value, discard the unessential, and give prominence to the determining factors; no one more needs the power to avoid fallacies and to argue intelligently scientific points which may be involved in litigation. No one more than the physician needs an acquaintance with psychology and philosophy, with the various sciences and the modern languages; no one more needs the power of judgment in view of seemingly contradictory facts and symptoms; no one more needs the ethical quality of the noble and honorable gentleman. Let the American universities maintain the standards which in theory they all are ready to advocate.”

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Read before the National Association of City Superintendents, at Jacksonville, Florida, in 1896.

[3] This committee made its report in 1899. The committee recommend that any study, included in a given list regarded as suitable for the secondary-school period, and pursued under approved conditions one year of four periods a week, be regarded as worthy to count toward admission to college; they recognize that not all secondary schools are equipped to offer all the subjects, and that the colleges will make their own selections for admission; they recognize the principle of large liberty to the student in secondary schools, but do not believe in unlimited election, and they emphasize the importance of certain constants in all secondary schools and in all requirements for admission to college; they recommend that these constants be recognized in the following proportion: Four units in foreign languages (no language accepted in less than two units), two units in mathematics, two in English, one in history, and one in science.

The thirteenth annual convention (1900) of the Association of Colleges and Preparatory Schools of the Middle States and Maryland passed resolutions urging the establishment of a joint college-admission examination board to bring about an agreement upon a uniform statement as to each subject required by two or more colleges for admission, to hold examinations, and to issue certificates to be accepted by the Middle-State Colleges.

At the Charleston meeting of the N. E. A. (1900) the following resolution was passed: “_Resolved_, That the Department of Secondary Education and the Department of Higher Education of the National Educational Association commend the Report of the Special Committee on College-Entrance Requirements, as affording a basis for the practical solution of the problem of college admission, and recommend the Report to the attention of the colleges of the country.”

[4] During the four years (1896-1900) since this investigation was made, there has been great progress throughout the country. The standard universities now require at least a high-school education for admission to professional schools, and offer four years in medicine and three years in law.

UNIVERSITY IDEALS.[5]

To an extent a university must represent the philosophy of a people at a given epoch, and their political, social, and industrial tendencies. It symbolizes the stage of civilization and spiritual insight. The ethical need of the time led to the study of philosophy in Greece; the innate regard of the Roman people for justice and the problems attending the development of the Empire emphasized the study of law in Rome; Christianity and the influence of the Greek philosophy made theology the ideal of the Middle Ages; the development of the inductive method places emphasis on physical science to-day; the industrial spirit of America gives a practical turn to our higher education. It is no mere accident that the English university is conservative and aristocratic and aims at general culture, that the French faculties are practical, or that the German universities are scientific and democratic. The differences in spirit and method are determined by factors that belong to the history and character of the different peoples.

The colleges of New England were founded on the traditions of Oxford and Cambridge, and embodied their ideal and theological aims and conservative method, although they naturally were more liberal and democratic than the parent institutions. The history of the early American colleges has been varied, but the more successful ones have certainly become catholic and progressive. As the country grew and men pushed westward, leaving tradition behind and developing more freely the spirit of our advancing civilization, the conception of a university, in touch with all the people, and scientific and free, arose. Thus we have the state university. At the same time the leading religious denominations have vied with each other in founding in the new states colleges or universities that are more or less denominational in spirit and aim.

The American university of to-day contains many elements. Broadly speaking, it represents the ideals of the Platonic philosophy, the direct inheritance from England, the character of the German university, the modern scientific method, and the practical demands of American civilization. All these elements are woven into the web of our national life. There is, of course, much diversity. Each class of universities contains something of all the ideals, but each emphasizes certain ones. The older and larger denominational school is more nearly the direct representative of English education, but has made a great advance. The state universities represent the people as such and the tendencies of our civilization, but in accord with the highest ideals. They more readily accept the influence of the German university. The denominational colleges scattered throughout the West aim to perpetuate the denominational idea.

* * * * *

Almost from the foundation of our Government free elementary schools have been regarded as an essential and characteristic part of our American institutions. They became a logical necessity when our forefathers abjured the caste and intolerance of the Old World, and with prophetic insight proclaimed the era of a new civilization in which the welfare of the state should mean the welfare of all the people. While the idea of education at the expense of the state, and under its control, was early accepted in that part of the country which has gradually influenced the whole nation, we of to-day have witnessed a part of the struggle to place on a permanent foundation the modern system of high schools. These schools, especially in the West, now have an assured position and command the confidence of the people. The attempt to take the next step and establish state universities was met with doubt and opposition. At a comparatively recent date, however, many state universities have come into prominence, and to-day they appear in the main to be the coming institutions of university training from Ohio to Oregon, and from Texas to Montana. Here is a development that is remarkable, and we may well examine its significance.

In the first place the state university is the logical outcome of our democratic ideal that made the public schools a necessity, an outcome which naturally would be first realized in the newer states. As America furnished new and favorable conditions for the development of civilization, freed in part from the traditions of the Old World, so the new states of the West became the field for a still more liberal growth of the tendencies of the age. There is a recognized tendency in our institutions toward a broader community of interests in respect to many things that affect the common welfare, and in no way does this tendency find a grander expression than in the means for elevating the people at the expense of the people to a better citizenship, higher usefulness, and wiser and nobler manhood. The safety of the state depends upon giving the brightest and best of all classes and conditions an opportunity to rise to the surface of affairs.

In Prussia, Switzerland, and Italy a healthy organization of society is held to depend upon public control of both secondary and higher education. England’s system of education tends to maintain social distinctions and an intellectual conservatism that are harmful both to the aristocracy and to the common people. Education in Germany shows its superiority in that it reaches a larger number of the poor classes and develops greater freedom of thought. The public control of education makes it democratic and progressive, and strengthens its influence with the people. It makes the scholar a leader in the line of advance indicated by the ideals of the people. In the American state university, men come together as a faculty, bringing with them training and educational ideals gained in the best universities of the world. They place themselves in touch with the public schools, the press, and all the state agencies of influence and control. Knowing the needs and demands of the people, they take the lead in the line of natural progress. The state university is inseparably linked to the state, and must carry with it the best influences of the state, and thus extend its influence to the whole people.

The great denominational schools at first represented homogeneous elements in the national life. Harvard was essentially a state institution. It was founded in “accord with the fundamental principles of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.” The people of Massachusetts, at that time, were largely homogeneous in race, religion, and love of freedom. Yale was founded partly on the conservative Congregationalism of Connecticut; hence it represented the mass of people in that State. Princeton was founded in the interest of the Scotch and Scotch-Irish political and religious views in the Middle States, but was so far catholic as to enlist the sympathy of the Dutch and the Quakers. However, it served a comparatively homogeneous people. In later years each of these universities, in order to reach large numbers of people maintaining diverse views, has been obliged to subordinate specific sectarian or denominational elements and emphasize only the highest ideals common to its constituency. The newer states of the West have a mixed population with heterogeneous interests. Hence it follows that not a denominational school, but a state school, broad enough for all the people, alone can satisfy the need of each state. Since it is impossible to maintain a real university for each peculiar interest, all must unite to support one institution, an institution maintaining the highest ideals common to humanity, and specifically to our own civilization. The ideals common to the American people are ample enough for an ideal university, founded and maintained by the state. Harvard or Princeton may say: “We have done for the state all that the state university claims as its function.” Then let each state have a Princeton which from the start is assured of an adequate foundation. In our Western states the same reason that would create one denominational college would create in each state fifteen or twenty. The history of the world never has seen such a dissipation of educational energy as is now seen in America, and a system of state education which tends to correct the evil merits enthusiastic support. It may be added that the state university exists in the West because the majority of the people are coming to prefer that kind of institution.