Chapter X: Part II: Reading

I

EXPRESSION AND INTERPRETATION

MECHANICAL PROCESSES

Reading begins in the "Children's House" as soon as the children _reread_ the word they have already composed with the movable alphabet. This early effort is not indeed the true reading of the word, since interpretation is lacking. The children, it has been seen, know the word because they have actually put it together. They have not gained an understanding of it from the simple recognition of the graphic symbols. What they have done is, nevertheless, an important contribution to real reading. As one considers all of the details of this period of development, it is apparent that its mechanism is closely allied with that of the spoken language.

When the child's attention has been intensively applied to the recognition of the written word, it can easily be fixed on the analysis of the sounds which make up the word. At a certain age the child's interest was aroused by "touching" the letter. He can now be interested in hearing the sounds of the word when pronounced by others and in pronouncing it himself. We have shown that the work on the written language in the exercises with the alphabet was _necessary_ for developing and perfecting the spoken language. It is by so doing that we make it possible to correct defects in speech and to pass naturally over the period when such defects are formed.

We now aim at finding an _exercise_ in the actual mechanism of pronunciation which can be started at the moment of its natural development in such a way that its growth to perfection will follow as a matter of course. It is a question of bringing the children rapidly to pronounce without hesitation. In so pronouncing well, in performing extensive exercises in hearing words and in the interpretation of them from graphic signs, the child brings together in a unit of effect the basic processes of reading and writing.

A good pronunciation of the word read is of great importance. We may say that in the elementary schools of our day this is the principal purpose of reading. Nevertheless, it is very difficult to obtain a good pronunciation when defects have been allowed to develop and become habitual in the child's previous work. In fact, the elimination of these defects, which have been the result of a fundamental error in education, comes to absorb all of the energies of the reading class in ordinary primary schools. So far along as the fifth grade we see teachers struggling to make the children read, that they may acquire a good "pronunciation," and in our reading books there are graduated exercises constructed on the basis of "Difficulties in Pronunciation." It is apparent that all of this stress on the _physiological mechanics_ of pronunciation is foreign to _true reading_. It is, rather, an impediment to the development of true reading. Such reading exercises constitute, as it were, a foreign body, which operates like a disease to prevent the development of the high intellectual activity which interprets the mysterious language of written symbols and arouses the child's enthusiasm with the fascinating revelations they can give. The eagerness of the child to learn is curbed and cheated when he is compelled to stop his mind from working because his tongue refuses to act properly and must be laboriously trained to work right. This training, if begun at the proper time, when the child's whole psychic and nervous organism yearns for the perfection of the mechanism of speech, would have been a fascinating task; and once started along the right path, the pupil would have continued to follow it with alacrity and confidence. When the time comes for the intelligence to try its wings, its wings should be ready. What would happen to a painter, if at the moment of inspiration, he had to sit down and manufacture his brushes!

ANALYSIS

Our first publication on the methods used in the "Children's House" made clear two distinct operations involved in reading: the interpretation of the meaning and the pronunciation aloud of the "word." The stress we laid on that analysis as a guide to the development of reading was the result of actual experience. Those who followed this work during its initial stages saw how the children, when they read for the first time, interpreting the meaning of the words before them, did so without speaking,--reading, that is, mentally. Interpretation, in fact, is a question of mental concentration. Reading is an affair of the _intelligence_. The pronunciation aloud is quite a different thing, not only distinguished from the first process, but secondary to it. Talking aloud is a question of speech, involving first hearing and then the mechanical reproduction of sounds in articulate language. Its function is to bring into immediate communication two or more people, who thus exchange the thoughts which they have already perfected in the secret places of their minds.

But reading stands in a direct relation with writing. Here there are no sounds to be heard or pronounced. The individual, all by himself, can put himself into communication not only with human beings actually alive on the earth, but also with those who lived centuries and centuries ago down to the dawn of history. Such communication is made possible not by sound but by the written symbol. The mind takes in these symbols in silence. Books are mute, as far as sound is concerned.

It follows that reading aloud is a combination of two distinct operations, of two "languages." It is something far more complex than speaking and reading taken separately by themselves. In reading aloud the child speaks not to express his own thoughts, but thoughts revealed by the written symbol. The "word" in this case no longer has that natural stimulus from within which creation gives it. In fact, it is something forced and monotonous, something like the language of the deaf-mute. Words which are the product of the interpretation of individual alphabetical symbols come with effort, and the meaning which comes from the interpretation of the entire sentence, as the eye reads word by word, and translates into sound, is apprehended and reduced to expression with great difficulty. To give a fairly intelligible expression to the meaning, the eyes have been obliged rapidly to traverse the sentence as a whole, while the tongue has been laboriously and monotonously pronouncing one word after another. Just imagine adding to such a complex problem for the child of the primary schools the additional task of correcting his pronunciation! It is no wonder that reading is one of the rocks on which the rudderless ship of elementary education inevitably runs aground.

/
/ | mechanical
| writing < grammatical (controlled by translation
| | into action)
| \ narration and description
|
|
Composition of |
words (with < /
movable | | mechanical
alphabet) | | /
| | | grammatical
| | | (translations
| reading < interpretative < into action)[5]
\ | | declamatory
| | (elocution)
| expressed \
| (aloud)
\

The experiments we have succeeded in conducting on the subject of reading are perhaps among the most complete we have made. We found the key to the problem when we discovered that the child passed from the mental reading of the words written on the cards directly to interpretation in action. This interpretation, ready and facile, as all the acts of children are, reveals to us what the child has understood and accordingly what he is capable of understanding. We have thus been able to obtain an experimental graduation of passages for reading, which on being gathered together, show the nature of the difficulties which successively present themselves to the child. The children have made for themselves specimen clauses and sentences which an expert grammarian could not have devised better for facilitating the study of language. As we went on with this work, we became more and more convinced that the study of grammar may be made a help in the up-building of the child's language and that it makes its influence felt in reading and in the written composition. The table (p. 175) may be useful in showing the successive steps actually traversed by the child in the phenomena of reading.

The fundamental point to realize is that _interpretation_ alone constitutes true reading. Reading aloud, on the other hand, is a combination of reading and articulate expression, in other words, a combination involving the two great mechanisms of the spoken language and the written language. Reading aloud permits an audience to take part in the reading communicated to it by means of articulate speech. Even here, the mental effort required to listen to the voice of a man passionately interested in the narration of things which he himself has experienced is not the same as that demanded in listening to a reading of the same things by a person who has not experienced them, and who, to narrate them, must perform the rapid and intense effort of interpretation. In this reading, so to speak, by "transmission," the most serious difficulties are encountered. We all know by experience how difficult it is to endure a reading, and how rare an endowment the "gift of reading" is. However, the person who is thus gifted can get a hearing almost as well as the person who speaks. The teaching of reading, then, in this sense, is not merely the teaching of the interpretation of the meaning,--all that would be necessary, if the sole function of reading were to gain new ideas for the reader. Reading, thus conceived, represents really the addition of an _art of expression_ to simple reading, and since this expressive art is purely dramatic, the _teaching of reading_ involves the development of _dramatic art_. Only through dramatic art can the transmission of reading to a group of people be made possible.

It is clear that the oftener the exercise of identifying oneself with what is read is repeated and perfected, the greater the possibility of expression becomes. It follows that in the perfection of this art we should be less concerned with _timbre_, with tone of voice and gestures, all extrinsic aspects of this art, than with intense vivid _interpretation_ which brings the child to an identification of himself with what he reads. And this interpretation will realize its objects if it is practised as a habit and as _a form of reading_.

The proof of correct interpretation was the child's ability to reproduce in action what was described in the words he read. Similarly, the proof of the interpretation in reading aloud is the repetition of the things heard by means of the spoken language. That is, the children, in order to prove to us that they have understood something read aloud, should be able to repeat in narrative form what they have heard.

The practical results of our efforts in this direction were very interesting to watch. Some children can say nothing. Others offer to tell the whole story. Their story is not clear or perhaps it is defective in some respect. Immediately other children are ready to correct the ones telling the story: "No, no, that's not what happened, that's not what happened," or, "Wait, you have forgotten something," and so on. In fact, to understand and to be able to narrate what has been understood is not the same thing. In telling a story there is a successive unfolding of very complex mental activities which are based on and added to the primal activity of "having understood." It is a question again of the three different stages noted by us in the first lessons given to children:

_First stage_, the causing of the perception: (_That is red, that is blue_);

_Second stage_, the perfection of recognition: (_What is red or blue?_);

_Third stage_, the provocation of expression: (_What about this or that?_).

Thus, the child who succeeds in expressing, even in an imperfect way, what he has understood of the passage he has read, is in a more advanced state of development than other children who are unable to tell the story. However, these children who are not able to relate what they have heard said may very well be in the preceding stage in which they are capable of "recognition." These latter are the relentless critics, the constant "hecklers" of those who are trying to relate--"No, no,--that's not so," "You have forgotten this, or that." Let one of us teachers try to tell the story in the most perfect and complete manner, and these tiny impetuous hecklers listen to us in ecstasy, showing their approval in every form of approbation of which they are capable. By studying such manifestations in the children, we can get sufficient psychological data for determining what reading is adapted to children of different ages, the best ways of reading aloud, and the line of development followed by each child in that hidden mental world of his which is cut off from our gaze. But to derive these benefits from reading, it is perfectly clear that the children must be left absolutely _free_ in the expression of what goes on in their minds.

According to the method used in ordinary schools a child is called upon to read aloud, and the teacher herself continually interrupts, either to correct the pronunciation, or to assist by explanations and suggestions in the interpretation of the meaning. This is all useless for experimental purposes. We have no certain means of determining whether the pupil has understood either what he has read or the explanations of the teacher. Furthermore the corrections of pronunciation have centered the child's attention on this detail which is entirely without relation to the meaning of the text he is interpreting. Another situation not infrequently arises. A child is selected at random to tell in his own words what he has been read. Often the selection is not made at random, but some pupil is called on because he has shown himself the most inattentive, the least interested in what is being done--the recitation thus becoming correctional in character! While the child is telling his story, there is a constant suppression of interruptions: "Hush, I did not call on you," "Wait till you are called on," "It is not polite to interrupt some one who is talking," etc. It is clear that the teacher will never learn anything about her pupils in this way.

This explains why, from the psychological point of view, our present-day schools have not been able to contribute anything new to a reformed scientific pedagogy of reading.

EXPERIMENTAL SECTION: READING ALOUD

Although we lay all possible stress on interpretative reading, we nevertheless put into the hands of the child a little reading book which he can go over by himself first in a low voice, and then, when he has grasped the meaning, aloud, provided he can express himself clearly and easily.

The simplicity of these texts occasions surprise when one observes how completely and enthusiastically absorbed in them the children become. They find them so delightful that the books get literally worn out with the reading and rereading to which they are subjected. Sometimes a book is read from beginning to end. Again the child opens it by chance and reads the page he happens on. Some children like to read the whole book over and over. Others prefer to read some particular page a great many times. One frequently sees these tiny things suddenly rise with great decision and read aloud one of the pages which has been so seriously examined.

The little book was composed very carefully on the basis of rigid experimentation. As the book is opened only one page of print appears, the tergo of the right hand page being always blank. Nor does the text always cover the entire page. The spaces above and below the print are decorated with designs.

The twenty pages of this beginners book are as follows:

Page 1. My school is the "Children's House."

Page 2. In the "Children's House" there are ever so
many little chairs and tables for us.

Page 3. There are also some pretty cabinets. Each
child has his own drawer.

Page 4. There are green plants and beautiful bouquets
of flowers everywhere about the rooms in our school.

Page 5. I often stop to look at the pictures which are
hanging on the walls.

Page 6. We are busy all the time. We wash our faces
and hands. We keep everything where it belongs. We
dust the furniture. We study and try to learn all we
can.

Page 7. Can you guess how we learned to dress
ourselves? We kept our fingers busy working on the
canvas frames, lacing and unlacing, fastening and
unfastening the hooks and eyes, buttoning and
unbuttoning, tying and untying knots.

Page 8. Then are ten blocks for this tower, all of
different sizes. First I spread them around on this
carpet. It is great fun to put them together again,
taking one after the other and choosing the largest
each time.

Page 9. I use the tower too in a balancing game. Just
try to carry the tower around the room without letting
it fall to pieces! Sometimes I succeed and then again
I sometimes fail.

Page 10. I like the long rods, too! I must put the
rods near each other according to their length. I must
be careful to place the blue sections near the blue
ones and the red ones near the red. Thus, I build some
pretty stairs with red and blue steps.

Page 11. But to get a real stair case I use the brown
prisms. These prisms are of different size, and I get
some fine stairs with ten steps.

Page 12. I have also some solid insets of wood into
which I fit little cylinders of different dimensions.
They differ in length and breadth. The game is to put
these cylinders in their places after looking at them
and touching them carefully.

Page 13. We often make mistakes in working with the
insets. When we put a cylinder where it doesn't
belong, we find that at the end of the game we have
one cylinder left over and it won't fit in anywhere.
Then the exercise becomes very exciting. We look at
the inset carefully; we find the mistake and begin all
over again. The most skilful pupils work the insets
with their eyes closed.

Page 14. These colors are called: red, black, green,
yellow, blue, brown, pink and violet.

Page 15. I amuse myself by picking out and pulling
together pieces of the same color from the collection
spread out over my table. I get thus a long strip of
different colors.

Page 16. We learn to arrange sixty-four different
colors by graduations. We get eight beautiful blends
of colors, each formed by eight tints of different
tones. When we become skilful we can make a pretty rug
with blending strips.

Page 17. We also have two little chests full of pieces
of cloth. The cloths are of all kinds from the
roughest and hardest to the smoothest and softest:
canvas, cotton, linen, wool, flannel, velvet, etc. If
we keep our hands clean, we can learn to recognize all
sorts of things with the tips of our fingers!

Page 18. A child is blindfolded. He mixes the pieces
of cloth with his little hands. He feels about among
the pieces of cloth. At last he smiles and holds up
his hands with two pieces of cloth, both alike. Though
he could not see, the child has found out, just by
using his fingers, that the two pieces were of the
same cloth.

Page 19. These are my plane insets. Here are the blue
tablets. I must fit them into the frames, which have
just enough room for them. I run two fingers, the
fore-finger and the middle-finger, around the edge of
the tablet, and then around the edge of the frames.
Next I fit the tablet into its proper place. After a
little practise I can put the six tablets in their
places even with my eyes blindfolded.

Page 20. With the plane insets I have learned to
recognize many figures: the square, the circle, the
rectangle, the ellipse, the triangle, the oval, the
pentagon, the hexagon, the heptagon, the octagon, the
enneagon, the decagon. I learned all these hard names
very easily because the insets are so amusing!

INTERPRETATIONS

Reading with the object of interpretation is conducted as in the first experiments of the "Children's House," with cards. From the graduated series we have prepared the child selects a card. He reads it mentally and then executes the action indicated on the card. Our later experiments became very interesting when they were based upon a more rigorous method. When we gave a card describing two actions to a child of five years, he would execute only one of the actions. Take the following for example:

--She leaned over the back of a chair.
--She covered her face with her hands and wept.

The child would act out either the first sentence (_She leaned over the back of the chair_) or the second (_She covered her face with, her hands and wept_). In spite of the fact that this child seemed extraordinarily eager to get the cards into his hands and to interpret them, those containing two sentences always aroused in him less enthusiasm than those containing a single sentence or indicating a single action (for instance, _The boy ran away as fast as he could_). In this latter case the enthusiasm of the little ones, their care in interpreting the action vividly, their eagerness to repeat it, their flushed faces and shining eyes, told us that at last we had the reading adapted to their psychology.

Our _first series_ of readings accordingly is entirely "tested" or _experimental_. It is made up of simple sentences something like those analyzed in the lessons on grammar (Verb to Pronoun).

SERIES I

--She gazed slowly around the room.
--He looked at them out of the corners of his eyes.
--The boy ran away as fast as he could.
--She threw herself on her knees before him.
--The man paced slowly up and down the room.
--The little girl stood with lowered head.
--The teacher nodded her approval.
--The little child sat with folded arms.
--He started rapidly toward the door.
--He began to walk to and fro about the room.
--His mother tenderly stroked his head.
--She motioned to him to keep away.
--He whispered in her ear.
--She placed her hand on his shoulder.
--They knocked at the door.
--The little girl frowned.

The children carry out the indicated action after they have read mentally, but they put what amounts to artistic expression into their interpretations, which are never executed listlessly. For them it becomes a real "interpretation." They often "study" the action, trying it over and over again, as though rehearsing for a play. Their aptitude for this is something remarkable. Furthermore the words have, for the most part, already been studied in the grammatical exercises, so that the meaning of each word is becoming more and more clear. This helps in the interpretation. For example, the sentence _The little girl stood with lowered head_ does not mean simply "she lowered her head." If the child has understood he will stand for some time with lowered head in an attitude more or less expressive according to the vividness of his feeling of the situation. In the sentence _She threw herself on her knees before him_ there will not be a simple act of kneeling, but something more dramatic. The child will assume the kneeling posture with some indication of emotion. The children take no end of interest in each other's interpretations.

In a _second series_ of readings we have two coordinated clauses, the children executing two consecutive actions instead of one.

SERIES II

--He opened the door and came in.
--He left the room and locked the door behind him.
--He went on tiptoe to the door and carefully opened it.
--She covered her face with her hands and began to sob violently.
--She gave a cry of joy and ran to the door.
--She burst into a laugh and clapped her hands.
--He took off his cap and made a low bow.
--She shook her head sadly and smiled.
--He threw the window wide open and looked into the garden.
--He hurried to the table and rang the bell.
--With a sigh of relief he stretched himself out on the sofa, and
lay there looking at the ceiling with his mouth open.
--He shut his eyes and fell asleep.

In the _third series_, there are sentences with one or more coordinate clauses.

SERIES III

--She opened the door, smoothed her hair slowly and
came in.

--He went to the window, opened it a little and peered
into the street.

--He closed the window, went back to his desk and then
began to walk hurriedly up and down the room.

--The doctor bent over the sick man, felt his pulse
with one hand and placed the other on his forehead.

--He took a key out of his pocket, opened the door and
came in.

--She uttered a cry of joy, ran to her mother and sank
on her knees before her.

--He put his left elbow on his knee, rested his
forehead in his left hand and began to stroke his
beard with his right.

--She leaned over the back of the chair, covered her
face with her hands and wept.

--He went to the table, found the picture and joyfully
took it in his hands.

--She took her handkerchief out of her pocket,
unfolded it and wiped the tears from her eyes.

--The child was sleepy. He rested his head on his arms
on the table and went to sleep.

--He looked toward the door fixedly, with an
expression of terror on his face and waited for the
man to come in.

SERIES IV

(Complex sentences with one subordinate clause)

--While he was making the drawing, he kept examining
the flower very carefully.

--She covered her eyes with her hands, as if she were
trying to collect her thoughts.

--She closed her eyes so that she could feel more
intensely the softness of the piece of velvet.

--She looked tenderly after the little boy, till he
disappeared through the door.

--When he had succeeded in turning the knob without
making any noise, he stealthily opened the door and
peered into the room.

--George held the book before his face so that no one
could see him laughing.

--She walked slowly across the room and with bowed
head, as though she were in great sorrow.

--The old man stroked the little boy's head as though
he were much amused.

--After she had motioned to the child to be silent,
the lady smilingly approached and took him by the
hand.

--They stopped suddenly and listened, as though
wondering what it could be.

--When Mary opened the door, George went to meet her
with a cheery smile of welcome.

SERIES V

(Sentences somewhat more involved; descriptions more complex; an exact interpretation sometimes requires the pronunciation of words aloud)

--The child rose from her seat, and with her face
buried in her handkerchief, walked slowly, sadly,
toward the window.

--He lay back in his chair, his head sunk between his
shoulders, while his arms were pressed tightly across
his breast, as though he were cold.

--He dropped wearily into a chair and sat there
looking at the floor, his right elbow on his knee and
his chin resting on his hand.

--He stood at the open window, with figure erect, and
his hands resting on the window-sill, while in deep
breaths he took into his lungs the delicious fresh air
that was coming into the room.

--The boy lowered his head, and rubbed his forehead
with his hands as though he were trying to collect his
thoughts.

--There she knelt, her face turned heavenward, her
hands crossed in her lap, while her body drooped
gently as though she were very, very tired.

--When he reached the door of his house, he hastily
unlocked the door, opened it, went in, and carefully
locked the door again behind him; and in his eagerness
to confide his secret to some one he could trust, he
went down the hall calling "Mother, Mother!"

--His eyes filled with tears as he went to the wall
where the picture of his father hung, and there with
his head resting on his arm against the wall, he
sobbed bitterly.

--Rizpah spread the cloth on the ground at the foot of
the tree, seated herself upon it, and with her arms
resting limp upon her knees, her eyes set in
unutterable woe, watched the birds and thought about
her lost children.

--The man was lying, sprawling, on the couch, but he
jumped up and ran to the door and angrily motioned to
his servant to come to him.

--The old lady sat shivering near the stove, holding
out her hands to get the warmth and nervously opening
and closing them so that the tips of her fingers kept
rubbing her palms.

--"I see," thought the boy as he stood with folded
arms looking fixedly at the floor.

--He took the handkerchief, examined it a moment and
said: "It doesn't belong to me!"

--He stooped over and picked up a pencil that was
lying on the floor: "Pshaw," said he, "it is broken!"

--Pecopin, feeling that all was over, threw himself
face downward on the ground, and moaned: "I shall
never see her again!"

--On waking, Rip Van Winkle rubbed his eyes and looked
around for his gun; as he rose to walk he found
himself stiff in the joints and wanting in his usual
agility.

--The clergyman folded his hands before his breast
and, bending his head above them, prayed fervently.

--The girl knelt beside the fallen soldier, while with
her right hand she waved her handkerchief to and fro
in the air.

--As the door opened, Florence ran to meet him,
crying, "Oh, dear, dear papa!" and she held out her
arms to him; but, as he paid no attention to her, she
put her handkerchief to her face and burst into tears.

--Beatrice came through the door holding her skirt
with one beautiful arm, while with the other she held
a candlestick above her head, so that the light shone
upon her face.

--She advanced holding forward her head as if she
would have him kiss her as he used to when she was a
child; but then remembering herself, she made him a
deep curtsy, sweeping down to the ground almost,
looking up meanwhile with the sweetest smile.

--She closed the door very carefully behind her, and
then leant back against it, her hands folded before
her, looking at the boy who was kneeling beside his
trunk to pack it.

--He took the paper and stepped to the window; then
holding the sheet so that the light fell full upon it,
he examined it carefully, folded it as though musing
on its contents and put it into his vest pocket.

--My Lord was lifting the glass to his lips, when
Esmond entered; but at the sight of the familiar face,
the movement of his arm ceased when the glass was on a
level with his chin; he held it there a moment in
astonishment, then, suddenly setting it on the table
he rushed toward Esmond with outstretched arms, and
would almost have embraced him: "I thought you were in
France," he exclaimed.

--The Prince was lying on the bed, but at the sound of
the footsteps, he rose on his elbow in alarm, while he
reached under the pillow for his pistols: "Who goes
there?" he shouted sternly.

--The child playfully drew his cap down over his eyes
as though he were a very fierce bandit, and rushed
into the room holding out his arm and pointing his
fore-finger like a pistol.

--As the ladies rode up, the old gentleman raised his
hat and stood with bowed head till they had passed.

--The young man picked up the glove from the floor,
pressed it fervently to his lips and clasped it
tenderly against his bosom, as though it were a
priceless treasure.

SERIES VI

(More difficult interpretations with occasional speaking)

--Dunsey threw himself into a chair by the window,
drew another chair before him, threw one leg over it,
and began to beat on the window sill with the points
of his fingers.

--Godfrey stood with his back to the fire, moving his
fingers uneasily among the contents of his
side-pockets and looking at the floor.

--Aaron replied by rubbing his head against his
mother's skirt, passing the backs of his hands over
his eyes and peeping through his fingers at Master
Marner.

--Mr. Macey screwed up his mouth, leaned his head
further on one side and twirled his thumbs rapidly,
with his two hands resting on his lap and touching at
the finger-tips.

--Silas sat with his elbows on his knees, his forehead
pressed rigidly into his two palms, his eyes closed,
deep sighs that were almost groans shaking his slender
frame.

--The little tot squatted on the coat and spread out
her hands to the fire; but the little eyes refused to
stay open, and finally the golden head sank down upon
the floor fast asleep.

--Presently the child slipped from his knee and began
to walk about; but suddenly she fell into a sitting
posture and began to pull at her little boots, as
though she were trying to get at her toes.

--"At last," he said, stretching back in the arm
chair, crossing his legs and joining his hands behind
his head: "I can now have a minute to myself!"

--"Ssshh," said the boy, frowning, and waving his
right arm with hand outspread towards his companion.

SERIES VII

(Interpretation requiring more than one person)

--As Rip Van Winkle approached the town, the people
all stared at him with marks of surprise and
invariably stroked their chins, so that Rip was
induced involuntarily to do likewise: his beard was a
foot long.

--A self-important old gentleman pushed through the
crowd, shoving the people to the right and left with
his elbows as he passed; and planting himself before
Van Winkle, with one hand on his side, the other
resting on his cane, he demanded with an austere tone:
"What are you doing here?"

--As Rip Van Winkle told his story, the bystanders
began to look at each other, nod, and wink
significantly and tap their fingers against their
foreheads.

--An old woman came tottering forward, put her hand to
her brow and peering under it into his face for a
moment, exclaimed: "Sure enough, it is Rip Van
Winkle!"

--As the Emperor stepped into the court-yard, the
ladies were all so busy crowding about the young
prince, holding his hands and counting the kisses,
that they did not see the old gentleman: "What's all
this, what's all this?" he shouted in rage; and they
all scampered off in every direction.

--Trotty sat down in his chair and beat his knees and
laughed; he sat down in his chair and beat his knees
and cried; he got out of his chair and hugged Med; he
got out of his chair and hugged Richard; he got out of
his chair and hugged them both at once. He was
constantly getting up and sitting down, never stopping
in his chair a single minute, being beside himself
with joy.

--"Here, little girl, can you tell us the way to
town?" "That's not the way. The town is over in this
direction!" But as the little girl was turning to
point out the road, one of the men seized her by the
waist and lifted her from the ground. Lucia looked
back over her shoulder terrified and gave a shriek.
(Manzoni.)

(The children were delighted with this little action
and rehearsed it over and over again.)

--With a start, Evangeline looked wildly about her:
"Where is Gabriel?" she asked dazedly. "Where is
Gabriel? Where is Gabriel?" "He is on that ship that
is just sailing out of the harbor!" some one answered.
For a few moments Evangeline stood shading her eyes
with her palm, gazing after the vessel, fast
disappearing into the horizon. At last she spoke half
aloud: "I will follow you and find you wherever they
may take you, Gabriel," she said, as though taking a
vow. Then she turned to the soldier and said: "Lead on
to the boat, I am coming. I am coming."

--"Give me the bow," said Tell. Tell chose two arrows:
one he fitted to the bow-string, the other he thrust
into his girdle. Then for a moment he stood, a little
bowed of shoulder, with his eyes downward: he was
praying. You might have heard a leaf fall, so still
was the place. Then Tell raised his head; his eyes
were steady, his hands had become still; his face was
like iron; he brought the cross bow to his shoulder
and laid his eye to the feather of the shaft: "Twang,"
the apple fell. A cheer arose from the crowd. Tell
laid his hand upon the arrow in his girdle. "If the
first had hurt my child," he said, "this one by now
would have been through your heart, O Gessler!"

The children by no means restrict themselves to acting out these little scenes and poses. In a second stage they read aloud all these slips which they have interpreted, and in view of the preparation they have had, their reading shows considerable power of expression. They tend to read the slips over and over again, many times, and not infrequently commit them to memory. To take advantage of this new activity we got together a number of poems, making up a little book of children's verse. The pupils read them both mentally and aloud, ultimately committing them to memory and reciting them. Here are some specimens of our Italian collection:

IL BACIO THE KISS

Dormiva nella cuna un bel bambino, "A pretty child was sleeping
E la mamma lo stava a rimirare; in his cradle; its mother was
Voleva dargli il bacio del mattino, looking at it. She wanted to
Ma il bacio lo poteva risvegliare; give it the morning kiss; but the
Svegliarlo non voleva, e con la mano kiss might awaken it. To avoid
Gli buttò cento baci da lontano. this, she threw it a thousand
kisses with her hand."

UN SOGNO A DREAM

Vidi una fata un giorno I saw a fairy one day, with
Che avea le trecce d'oro golden hair and a dress of
E un abito di perle pearls, richer than a treasure.
Più ricco d'un tesoro

"Vieni con me," mi disse, "Come with me," the fairy
"Che ti farò regina." said, "and I'll make you a
"Non vengo, bella fata; queen." "I cannot, pretty
Io sto con la mammina." fairy," I replied, "I must stay
with mother."

LA NEVE THE SNOW

Lenta la neve fiocca, fiocca, The flakes of snow are falling,
fiocca, falling, falling. Listen, a
Senti, una culla dondola pian cradle is gently, gently
piano. rocking; a baby cries, his
Un bimbo piange, il piccol dito finger in his mouth; the old
in bocca, nurse sings, her chin in her
Canta la vecchia, il mento in hand.
su la mano.

LA GALLINA THE HEN

Io vi domando se si può trovare I leave it to you: is there a
Un più bravo animal della gallina. nicer animal than the hen? If
Se non avesse il vizio di raspare only she wouldn't scratch, I
would like to have one with me
Ne vorrei sempre aver una vicina. all the time. Every day, at a
Tutti i giorni a quell'ora: certain hour:
"Coccodè!" "Cut-cut-cut-cut-cadakut!"
Corri a guardar nel covo e l'ovo Run and look in the nest, and
"Coccodè!" an egg is there!

LA POVERA BAMBINA THE POOR ORPHAN CHILD

Disse: "Mia madre è morta! She said: "My mother is
Io son digiuna dead; I have nothing to eat; the
E la stagion è cruda: weather is cold. There is no one
In terra a me non pensa anima left to think of me. I am a
alcuna: ragged orphan girl."
Sono orfanella e ignuda."

IL PESCE THE FISH

Un dì fuor della vasca del giardino One day a little fish jumped
Guizzò imprudentemente un imprudently out of the garden
pesciolino. pool. Gigi saw it and all
Gigi lo vide, e tutto disperato excitedly cried out: "Mamma,
Gridò alla mamma: un pesce s'è mamma, a fish has drowned
annegato! himself."

QUEL CHE POSSIEDE UN BAMBINO A CHILD'S POSSESSIONS

Due piedi lesti lesti per correre Two little lively feet to run
e saltare. and jump with.
Due mani sempre in moto per Two busy hands to take and do
prendere e per fare. things.
La bocca piccolina per tutto One little mouth to ask
domandare. questions with.
Due orecchie sempre all'erta Two ears always awake to hear
intente ad ascoltare. everything with.
Due occhioni spalancati per tutto Two bright eyes always open to
investigare. see everything with.
E un cuoricino buono per molto, One little heart to love with.
molto amare.

IL BUON ODORE THE FLOWER'S FRAGRANCE

"Ma, bimbo mio, perchè "Why spoil that pretty flower,
Sciupar questo bel fiore?" my child?"
"Cercavo il buon odore, "I was looking for the sweet
Non so capir dov'è." smell and I haven't been able to
LINA SCHWARZ. find it."

NINNA-NANNA DI NATALE CHRISTMAS LULLABY

Ninna-nanna, gelato è il focolare; Lullaby, the fire is out, my
fanciul, non ti svegliare. child, do not awaken. To keep
Per coprirti dal freddo, o mio you warm, my little child, I
bambino, must make you a little dress
Cucio in un vecchio scialle un from this old shawl.
vestitino.

Ma il lucignolo trema e l'occhio But the lamp is dim and my
è stanco, eyes are tired, O child of the
bimbo dal viso bianco. white face. Who knows if even
Chi sa se per domani avrò finito by tomorrow I can have this
Questo che aspetti povero vestito! poor dress for you.
ADA NEGRI.

A corresponding book of English verse might include something like the following:

THE WHOLE DUTY OF A CHILD

A child should always say what's true,
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table--
At least so far as he is able.
STEVENSON.

THE RAIN

The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrella here
And on the ships at sea.
STEVENSON.

THE COW

Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day and every night
Warm and fresh and sweet and white.
ANN TAYLOR.

THE RAIN

The rain is raining all around,
Kittens to shelter fly,
But human folk wear over-shoes
To keep their hind-paws dry.
O. HERFORD.

FISHES

How very pleasant it must be
For little fishes in the sea!
They never learn to swim at all:
It came to them when they were small.
"Swim out like this," their mother cried,
"Straight through the water, foam and tide."
They waved their fins and writhed their scales,
And steered their little rudder tails.
Already they know what to do--
I wish that I could do it too!
ALICE FARWELL BROWN.

THE LITTLE COCK SPARROW

A little cock-sparrow sat on a green tree,
And he chirruped, he chirruped, so merry was he;
A naughty boy came with his wee bow and arrow,
Determined to shoot this little cock-sparrow.

"This little cock-sparrow shall make me a stew,
And his giblets shall make me a little pie too."
"Oh, no!" said the sparrow, "I won't make a stew";
So he flapped his wings and away he flew.
BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE.

THE TREE

What do we do when we plant the tree?
We plant the houses for you and me;
We plant the rafters, the shingle, the floors,
We plant the studding, the laths, the doors,
The beams and siding--all parts that be!
We plant the house when we plant the tree.
HENRY ABBEY.

THE LAMB

Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bade thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing woolly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
W. BLAKE.

Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too.
But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise:
Your little hands were never made
To tear each others' eyes.
WATTS.

The sunshine flickers through the lace
Of leaves above my head,
And kisses me upon the face
Like Mother before bed.

The wind comes stealing o'er the grass
To whisper pretty things;
And though I cannot see him pass
I feel his careful wings.
STEVENSON.

After this preparation the children are able to "understand" what they read. All their difficulties in grasping the sentences and their most complicated constructions have been overcome. They have an insight into the grammatical form of language; and the construction of a sentence, as well as the meaning of the words in it, interests them. There has been created within them a fund of suppressed energy which will very soon break forth into intense activity. In fact, in our school, after these exercises the passion for reading began to show itself. The children wanted "reading, reading, more reading." We got together hastily a few books but never enough to satisfy the eagerness of the children. We found a surprising lack of reading for little children in Italian. The American system of opening special rooms in public libraries for the use of little readers seems to me an excellent thing.

But to take full advantage of this awakened enthusiasm for reading and to cultivate at the same time the art of reading aloud we must not neglect another element in reading: audition.

AUDITION

When the child has advanced to some extent in the exercises of interpretation, the teacher may begin reading aloud. This should be done as artistically as possible. We recommend for the training of teachers not only a considerable artistic education in general but special attention to the art of reading. One of the differences between the traditional teacher of the past and the teachers we should like to create is that the former used to speak of an "art of teaching," which consisted of various devices to make the child learn, in spite of itself, what the teacher wanted to teach. Our teachers, rather, should be _cultivators_ of the fine arts. For in our method art is considered a _means to life_. It is beauty in all its forms which helps the inner man to grow. We have repeatedly emphasized that both in the environment at school and in the materials used, everything should be carefully considered in its artistic bearings, to provide ample room for development for all the phenomena of attention and persistence in work which are the secret keys of self-education. The Montessori teacher should be a cultivator of music, drawing and elocution, responsive to the harmony of things; she must, that is, have sufficient "good taste" to be able to lay out the school plant and keep it in condition; and sufficient delicacy of manner--the product of a sensitive nature--to be alive to all the manifestations of the child spirit.

In the matter of reading aloud the teacher has an important task to accomplish. We found the drawing hour best adapted for this work. It was our experience that it is easier to gain a hearing when the children are busy with something which does not require great concentration and which is not sustained by any particular inspiration. During the drawing lesson, in the placid silence which comes from work, and while the children are intent on their designs, the teacher may begin her reading aloud. It sometimes happens that the substance of what she reads will be sufficient to engage the interest of the whole school. But this is not always an easy task. It is more often the musical quality of the teacher's execution which will attract the little ones with a sense for art and bring them to that motionless attention which is the evidence of eager enjoyment. Possibly a really perfect reader might be able so to hold the whole group of children with some absorbing selection.

The readings we used were numerous and of great variety: fairy tales, short stories, anecdotes, novels, historical episodes. Specifically there were the tales of Andersen, some of the short stories of Capuana, the _Cuore_ of De Amicis, episodes of the life of Jesus, _Uncle Tom's Cabin_, _The Betrothed_ (_I promessi sposi_ of Manzoni), _Fabiola_, stories from the Italian wars for independence (Nineteenth Century), Itard's _Education of the Young Savage of Aveyron_.

THE MOST POPULAR BOOKS

In general the child will listen to anything that is really interesting. But certainly some surprises will be occasioned by our discovery that the children liked above everything else the readings on Italian history and the _Education of the Savage of Aveyron_. The phenomenon is sufficiently curious to merit further consideration. The history we used was not one commonly thought adapted to young readers. Quite the contrary: it was Pasquale de Luca's _I Liberatori_ (_Makers of Freedom_, Bergamo, 1909), written to arouse a feeling of patriotism among the Italian emigrants of Argentina. The special feature of this publication is its contemporary documents reprinted in _fac-simile_. There are, for instance, telegrams, notices in cipher published on the walls of the towns on the eve of uprisings, commemorative medals, a receipt given by an executioner for whipping publicly an Italian patriot, etc. Patriotic songs are given with the music (these the children learned by heart, following the piano); there are also copious illustrations.

This documented history was so absorbing that the children became entirely possessed by the situations. They started animated discussions on various subjects, arguing and deciding. They were particularly outraged at an edict of the king of Naples which was intended to mislead the public. They raged at unjust persecutions, applauded heroic deeds, and ended by insisting on acting out some of the scenes. They formed little companies of three or four and "acted" the episodes with a most impressive dramatic sense. One little girl was moved to bring to school a collection of all the Italian patriotic songs. It fascinated many of the children, who learned several by heart and sang them in chorus. In a word, the Italian Risorgimento came to live in those little hearts with a freshness it has long since lost in the souls of their elders. Many of the children wrote down their impressions of their own accord, often giving surprisingly original judgments. Finally they began to "take notes." They asked the teacher to give an outline of the principal events, which they took down in their copy-books. This whole experience corrected many of my own ideas on the teaching of history. I had thought of preparing moving-picture films and giving historical representations. But that, naturally, being beyond my resources, I had been compelled to give up the plan. The reading of De Luca's book was a revelation. To teach history to children it is sufficient to give a _living documented truth_. We need, not more cinematographs, but different school books. Children are much more sensible to the true and beautiful than we. They suggest fact and situation. De Luca, moved by affection for his distant brothers, tried to write a book flaming both with truth and with love, which would awaken them and bring them back to live among us as Italians. Our task is the same. We must be filled with a similarly intense human zeal: we must call back to us the distant souls of the children. They too are brothers living far away in a distant country. We must arouse them, bring them back to us as partners in our own life.

After our readings from Itard's _Savage_, the parents of the children kept coming to us with inquiries: "What have you been reading to our children? We should like to hear it ourselves." The little ones had told of hearing an extraordinary story about a child who had lived with the animals, beginning little by little to understand, to feel, to live like us. All the psychological details of his study, his attempts at education, seemed to have touched the children deeply. It occurred to us to take the older of such children to a "Children's House" and show them our educational method. They took the greatest interest in it, and some of them are now collaborators in the foundation of other "Children's Houses." Such children are able to follow the development of the child mind with extraordinary sympathy. However, if we reflect that the best teachers for children are children themselves, and that little tots like the company of another child much better than that of an adult, we need not be surprised at the downfall of another prejudice.

We have conceived of children according to a fantastic idea of our own, making of them a sort of human species distinct from that to which adults belong. As a matter of fact, they are our children, more purely human than we ourselves. The beautiful and the true have for them an intense fascination, into which they plunge as into something actually necessary for their existence.

The results here witnessed led us to many a reflection. We succeeded in teaching history and even pedagogy by means of "reading." And, in truth, does not reading embrace everything? Travel stories teach geography; insect stories lead the child into natural science; and so on. The teacher, in short, can use reading to introduce her pupils to the most varied subjects; and the moment they have been thus started, they can go on to any limit guided by the single passion for reading. Our task is to offer the child the instruments of education, to keep pure within him the springs of his intellectual growth, of his life of feeling. The rest follows as a matter of course. As the ancients said: "_Necessary_ education is the three 'r's': reading, writing and arithmetic," for these are things which the child cannot discover by himself. We can only add that "method" must be scientifically determined only at the points where it becomes necessary to assist the "formation of man," that he may develop his activities by strengthening them and not by repressing them, that he may receive essential help without losing any pure freshness of his interior activities. But this does not mean that "a rigorous method must guide the child at all times and in every step that he takes." When he has become strong and is in possession of his tools for discovery, he will be able to uncover many of life's secrets by himself. We tied the child to the materials in his sensory exercises, but we left him free to explore his environment. This must be the method for all his later steps in advance: he must be given the instrument and the strength to use it, and then left free to find things out for himself.

The fondness of children for reading and their preference for the "true" is something already demonstrated by experiments conducted elsewhere. I may refer here to the investigations on readings for children conducted by the "Education" section of the Federation for School Libraries of the province of Emilia (Italy). The questionnaire was as follows:

Do you remember what books you have read and which you
liked best?

How did you get them?

Do you know the title of some book you would like to
read?

Do you prefer fairy-tales, or rather stories of true
or probable facts? Why?

Do you prefer sad or humorous stories?

Do you like poetry?

Do you like stories of travel and adventure?

Do you subscribe to any weekly or monthly newspaper?
If so, to which?

If your mother were to offer you a choice between a
subscription to a weekly or monthly and an illustrated
book, which would you take? And why?

The answers, very carefully sifted, showed that the vast majority of children preferred readings which dealt with fact. Here are some of the reasons alleged by the children in support for their preference for "truth": "Facts teach me something; fairy-tales are too improbable; true stories don't upset my thinking; true stories teach me history; true stories always convey some good idea; fairy-stories give me desires impossible to satisfy; many good ideas come from actual experiences; fantastic tales make me think too much about supernatural things"; etc., etc. In favor of the fairy-tales we find: "They amuse me in hours free from work; I like to be in the midst of fairies and enchantments"; etc. Those who preferred sad or serious stories justified themselves as follows: "I feel that I am a better person, and realize better the wrong I do; I feel that my disposition becomes more kindly; they arouse in me feelings of kindness and pity." Many supported their preference for humorous tales on the ground that "when I read them, I am able to forget my own little troubles." In general, a great majority denied any educational value to joy and humor. In this conviction--or rather this feeling--so widely diffused among children, have we not evidence that something must be wrong in the kind of education we have been giving them?

FOOTNOTE:

[5] The first readings consist of a special grammar and a dictionary.