Principles of Teaching — Text and Context

Special thought should be given in the preparation of a lesson to the attack to be made during the first two minutes of a recitation. A pointed, vital question, a challenging statement, a striking incident, a fascinating, appropriate story, a significant quotation--these are a few of the legitimate challenges to attention.

QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS--CHAPTER XI

1. Discuss the statement: "There is no such thing as inattention; when pupils appear inattentive, they are singly attentive to something more interesting than the lesson."

2. Explain the force of attention in the learning process.

3. What is attention?

4. Discuss and illustrate the different types of attention.

5. Give some practical suggestions on the securing of attention.

6. Point out the distinction between attention and interest.

7. Discuss the effect of monotony on attention.

8. How do children and adults differ in their powers of attention?

Pillsburg, _Attention_; Norsworthy and Whitley, _Psychology of Childhood_; Strayer and Norsworthy, _How to Teach_; Betts, _How to Teach Religion_; Weigle, _Talks to Sunday School Teachers_; Fitch, _The Art of Securing Attention_; Thorndike, _Principles of Teaching_; Dewey, _Interest and Effort in Education_; Brumbaugh, _The Making of a Teacher_.

WHAT MAKES FOR INTEREST

Individual differences and interest.--What makes for interest.--Interest begets interest.--Preparation is a great guarantee.--Knowledge of the lives of boys and girls a great help.--The factors of interestingness: The Vital, The Unusual, The Uncertain, The Concrete, The Similar, The Antagonistic, The Animate.

After discussing the relation of interest to attention we still face the question: What is it that makes an interesting object, or an idea interesting? Why do we find some things naturally interesting while others are dull and commonplace? Of course, everything is not equally interesting to all people. Individual differences make clear the fact that a certain stimulus will call for a response in one particular person, quite unlike the response manifested in a person of different temperament and training. But psychologists are agreed that in spite of these differences there are certain elements of interests that are generally and fundamentally appealing to human nature. To know what it is that makes for interest is one of the prerequisites of good teaching.

But before naming these "factors of interestingness," may we not also name and discuss briefly some other essentials in the matter of creating and maintaining interest?

In the first place it is good to remember that a teacher who would have his pupils interested must himself be interested. If he would see their faces light up with the glow of enthusiasm, he must be the charged battery to generate the current. Interest begets interest. It is as contagious as whooping cough--if a class is exposed it is sure to catch it. The teacher who constantly complains of a dull class, very likely is simply facing a reaction to his own dullness or disagreeableness. "Blue Monday" isn't properly so named merely because of the drowsy pupil. The teacher inevitably sets the pace and determines the tone of his class. Many a teacher when tired, or out of patience, has concluded a recitation feeling that his pupils were about the most stupid group he has ever faced; the same teacher keyed up to enthusiasm has felt at the close of another recitation that these same pupils could not be surpassed. A student with whom the writer talked a short time ago remarked that she could always tell whether the day's class was going to be interesting under a particular teacher as soon as she caught the mood in which she entered the classroom. Half-heartedness, indifference, and unpleasantness are all negative--they neither attract nor stimulate. Interest and enthusiasm are the sunshine of the classroom--they are to the human soul what the sun's rays are to the plant.

The second great guarantee of interest is preparation. The teacher needs to have his subject matter so thoroughly in mind that, free from textbook and notes, he can reach out to a real contact with his boys and girls. If his eyes are glued to his book, he cannot hope to arouse keen interest. The eye is a great force in gripping the attention of a class or audience. They want nothing to stand between them and the speaker. Not long ago one of the most forceful and eloquent public speakers in Utah failed miserably, in addressing a thoroughly fine audience, because he was lost in the machinery of his notes. His material was excellent--his power as an orator unquestioned--yet he was bound down by a lack of preparation that cost him the mastery of his audience.

Not only does adequate preparation enable a teacher to reach out and take hold of his pupils; it makes it possible for him to capitalize on the situations that are bound to arise in class discussion. A concrete illustration to clear up a troublesome question, an appropriate incident to hit off some general truth, a happy phrase to crystallize a thought--all these things are born only of adequate preparation.

Not long ago a candidate for the presidency of the United States delighted an audience of ten thousand or more in the Salt Lake Tabernacle by his remarkable handling of questions and comments thrown at him from that vast audience. There was no hesitancy or uncertainty. He spoke "as one who knew." He was prepared. He had so lived with the questions of the day that they fairly seemed to be part of him. The interesting teacher never teaches all he knows. His reserve material inspires both interest and confidence. A class begins to lose interest in a teacher the moment they suspect that his stock in trade is running low. The mystery, "how one small head could carry all he knew," is still fascinating. Thorough preparation, moreover, minimizes the likelihood of routine, the monotony of which is always deadening. A class likes a teacher--is interested in him--when it can't anticipate just what he is going to do next and how he is going to do it.

A further aid in holding interest is to know intimately the life of the boys and girls taught. To appreciate fully their attitude--to know what sort of things in life generally appeal to them--is a very great asset to any teacher. If a teacher knows that a boy's reaction to the story of the Israelites' crossing the Red Sea is that that story is "some bunk," he is fortified in knowing how to present other subjects which are similar tests to a boy's faith and understanding. To know pupils' attitudes and mode of life is to know what sort of illustrations to use, what emphasis to put upon emotional material, what stress to lay on practical application. In short, it is to know just how to "connect up." It stimulates to a testing of values so that a teacher selects and adapts his material to the needs of the boys and girls whom he teaches.

And, finally, as a key to interest, a teacher needs to know what the "factors of interestingness" are. According to the findings of the Public Speaking Department of the University of Chicago, they are summed up in these seven terms:

The Vital The Unusual The Uncertain The Concrete The Similar The Antagonistic The Animate

This list becomes more and more helpful as it is pondered. It is surprising to find how experience can be explained on the score of interest by reference to these terms. Those things are vital which pertain to life--which affect existence. Dangers are always interesting. Catastrophies are fascinating. Just today all America is scanning the newspapers throughout the country to find an explanation of the Wall Street explosion. We shall not soon forget the feverish interest that gripped the people of the world during our recent world wars.

When life is at stake, interest runs high. So it does when property, liberty, and other sacred rights, so vital to life, are affected. Anything vital enough to justify the publication of an "extra" may be depended upon to grip the interest of men and women.

It is equally clear that a fascination attaches to things that are unusual. New styles attract because of this fact. Let a man oddly dressed walk along a thoroughfare--the passersby are interested immediately. A "loud" hat or necktie, or other item of apparel, attracts attention because it is out of the ordinary. Much of the interest and delight in traveling lies in this element of the new and unusual which the traveler encounters. The experiences of childhood which stand out most prominently are usually those which at the time riveted themselves to the mind through the interest of their extraordinariness.

Every reader knows the fascination of uncertainty. "How will the book turn out?" prompts many a person to turn through hundreds of pages of a novel. An accident is interesting not only because of its vital significance, but because there is always a question as to how seriously those involved may be hurt. One of the clearest illustrations of the force of the uncertain is found attending baseball games. Let the score stand at 10 to 2 in the eighth inning and the grandstands and bleachers begin to empty. Few spectators care to remain. The game is too clearly settled. As the boys say, it is "sewed up" and there is nothing uncertain to grip interest. But let the score stand 3 to 2 or 2 to 2 in the eighth and even the man scheduled home for dinner stays to the end. He wants to know how the game is "coming out."

It is easier also to be interested in concrete than in abstract things. General truths are not gripping--concrete illustrations of those truths are. If I declare that it is important to have faith, I create but little interest in an audience. But if I tell that same audience how some individual has been miraculously healed through faith, I have their interest completely. Concrete illustrations fit into and link up with our own experiences so easily and forcefully that they are particularly interesting.

So, too, with things that are similar. The mind naturally links like with like. We are fond of making comparisons. The interest in the similar is due to that fundamental law of learning that we proceed from what is known to that which is unknown and we proceed along points of similarity.

And how natural it seems to be interested in things antagonistic! Our love of contests of all sorts is evidence of the fact. Who can resist the interest that attaches to a quarrel--a fight--a clash of any kind. The best of classes will leave the best of teachers, mentally at least, to witness a dog fight. Our champion prize fighters make fortunes out of man's interest in the antagonistic.

And then, finally, we are interested in the animate. We like action. Things in motion have a peculiar fascination. Who does not watch with interest a moving locomotive? Advertising experts appreciate the appeal of the animate, as is evidenced by the great variety of moving objects that challenge our interest as we pass up and down the streets of a city and we respond to the challenge. In fact, it is natural to respond to the appeal of all of these seven terms--hence their significance in teaching.

QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS--CHAPTER XII

1. Discuss the force of individual differences in choosing material that will be interesting.

2. Why is it so essential that the teacher be interested in what he hopes to interest his pupils in?

3. Show how preparation makes for interest.

4. Why is an intimate acquaintance with the lives of pupils so essential a factor with the interesting teacher?

5. Illustrate concretely the force of each of the factors of interestingness.

Those listed in Chapter XI.

A LABORATORY LESSON IN INTEREST

OUTLINE--CHAPTER XIII

Interest should be inherent in the lesson taught.--An illustration of "dragged in" interest.--Interest and the "easy" idea.--A proper interpretation of interest.--How to make the subject of _Fasting_ interesting.--The various possibilities.--How to secure interest in the Atonement.--How to secure interest in the Resurrection.--How to secure interest in the story of Jonah.

"Oh, that's all right," says one. "It is easy enough to talk about interest, and it's easy to be interesting if you can choose anything you like to amuse a class. But if you have to teach them theology, and especially some of the dry lessons that are outlined for us, I don't see how we can be expected to make our work interesting."

Of course, there is some point to such an objection. Having been asked to teach the truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we cannot defend the practice of bringing in all kinds of material just because it is funny. And, of course, it is true, too, that some lesson outlines upon first thought do appear rather forbidding. But it is equally true that there is a path of interest through the most unpromising material, though that path does not always run alongside the teacher's highroad of ease and unconcern. A false notion of interest is that it denotes mere amusement--that it is something aside from serious and sober thought.

The writer recalls visiting a class taught by a person holding such a notion. Having given his lesson but little thought he apologized for its lack of interest by saying, "Now, boys and girls, if you will just be quiet while we go over the lesson, even though it isn't very interesting, I'll read you our next chapter of _Huckleberry Finn_." And yet the lesson, hurried over, with a little intensive study could have been made as fascinating as the reading of _Huckleberry Finn_ and notably more profitable.

Another misconception relative to interest is the idea that to make a subject interesting you must so popularize it that you cheapen it. This idea is typified in the "snap" courses in school--courses made interesting at the expense of painstaking application. As a matter of fact, to cheapen a thing is ultimately to kill interest in it. Genuine interest of real worth is born of effort and devotion to a worthy objective. Far from dissipating the mind's energies, it heightens and concentrates them to the mastery of the bigger and finer things of life.

A subject to be made interesting must present some element of newness, yet must be so linked up with the experience of the learner as to be made comprehensible. It must, moreover, be made to appeal as essential and helpful in the life of the learner. The two outstanding queries of the uninterested pupil are:

What is it all about? What's the use?

Let us, then, turn to two or three subjects which at first thought may appear more or less dull to see whether there is an approach to them that can be made interesting.

Members of the teacher-training class at Provo were asked to name four or five subjects which they regarded hard to stimulate interest in. They named the following:

Fasting. The Fall. The Atonement. The Resurrection. The Story of Jonah.

Let us suppose that I have met my Second Intermediate class of eighteen boys and girls to discuss the subject of fasting. I might begin by relating an actual experience in which through fasting and prayer on the part of the members of a particular family a little boy has just been most miraculously restored to health, after an operation for appendicitis. It was an infection case, and three doctors agreed there was no possible chance of recovery. A fourth doctor held out the possibility of one chance in a hundred. And yet a two days' fast, coupled with a faith I have seldom seen equalled, has been rewarded by the complete recovery of the boy, who is now thoroughly well and strong.

Such a concrete illustration is one possibility for arousing interest.

Or, I might proceed with a few definite, pointed questions:

"How many of you eighteen boys and girls fasted this month?"

The answers show that seven have fasted; eleven have not.

I proceed then to inquire why the eleven have failed to fast. Various explanations are offered:

"We don't fast in our home."

"Father has to work all day Sunday; and so, because mother has to get breakfast for him, we all eat."

"I have a headache if I fast, so I think it is better not to."

"I don't see any use in fasting. Going around with a long, hungry face can't help anyone."

"It's easy to fast when they won't give you anything to eat."

"I like to fast just to show myself that I don't live to be eating all the time."

"I believe it's a good thing to give the body a little rest once in a while."

"I feel different when I fast--more spiritual or something."

"It must be right to fast. The Church wouldn't ask us to if it wasn't a good thing."

The definiteness of these replies, coupled with the suspense of wondering what the next answer will be, keeps up a lively interest.

A third possibility would be to call for the experiences of the pupils, or experiences which have occurred in their families, or concerning which they have read. A very rich compilation of interesting material can be collected under such a scheme.

Or, finally, I may choose to proceed immediately with a vigorous analysis and discussion of the whole problem. I arouse interest by quoting a friend who has put the query to me, "What is the use of fasting?" and then enlist the cooperation of the class in formulating a reply. Together we work out the possible justification of fasting.

The following outline may represent the line of our thought:

1. Jesus taught us to fast. a. His forty days in the wilderness. b. His injunction to his apostles.

2. Our leaders have instituted fasting in these latter days.

3. By fasting we develop a mastery over our appetites. The body is made to serve the will.

4. Physiologically, it is a good thing to fast. Many scientists are now recommending regular rests for the digestive organs.

5. Fasting makes possible an elevation of spirit.

6. Our system of fasting makes it possible to see that no one in the Church wants for food.

7. Fasting enables us to appreciate the feelings of those who are less fortunate in the world than we are, who are denied the blessings we enjoy.

Of course, each idea needs to be introduced and developed in a concrete, vigorous manner. So treated, fasting can be made a very fascinating subject.

The following suggestions on introducing the lesson on the Resurrection to little children have been drawn up by one of the most successful kindergarten teachers in the Church:

"There are several things to be considered before presenting the lesson on the Resurrection to little children.

"First, the teacher must feel that she _can_ present it. In other words, she must love the story and feel the importance of it. She must also be able to see the beautiful side and remember that she is teaching, 'There is no death; but life eternal.'

"The next question to consider is: How are we going to present it? We must lead the child from the known to the unknown, through the child's own experience. Therefore we go to nature, because all nature appeals to the child. But in order to create the right atmosphere, the teacher in selecting the subject must feel that what he has selected is the very thing he wants in order to explain to the child, 'There is no death.'

"There are several ways in which the subject may be approached through nature. We may take the Autumn and let the children tell what happens to the trees, flowers, and different plants. Lead them to see the condition after the leaves are off. Then what will happen next Spring. Or we may take one specific tree or brush and talk of the twig where the leaves were in the summer, but have now fallen to the ground. The twig looks dead. But on opening the bud and removing the brown covering we find the tiny leaf inside waiting and preparing to come forth in the Spring.

"The bulb may be used in a similar way, leading the child to see the bulb as it is before planting, then to see what happens when we plant it.

"The caterpillar may also be used. Here we have the live worm getting ready to go into his cocoon and is absent for some time; then he returns, only in another form. A higher stage.

"Lead the child to see that every thing in nature has a period of changing, of apparently going away for a short time, but is not dead--it returns to life.

"Be sure to have the objects you are talking about before the class, while you are discussing the subject. If not obtainable, use a picture, or draw them."