This will perhaps be enough of information for one lesson;
and having
thus infused it in an agreeable form into their minds, you may proceed
in the manner before mentioned to get it back from them, in order to
impress it more firmly on their understandings; and if this be always
done in the proper manner, they will become as familiar with the
subject, and learn it as quickly as they would the tissue of nonsense
contained in the common nursery tales of "Jack and Jill,"
or, "the old
woman and her silver penny," whose only usefulness consists in
their
ability to amuse, but from which no instruction can be possibly drawn;
beside which, they form in the child's mind the germ of that passion
for light reading which afterwards, in many instances, prevents an
application to any thing solid or instructive. Being in themselves the
foundation stone on which a huge and useless mass of fiction is piled
in after years, the philosophical mind will at once perceive the
advantage of our system of amusement mingled with instruction,
and perceive that upon its simple basis a noble structure may be
afterwards raised; and minds well stored with useful lore, and
capable of discerning evil in whatever shape it presents itself, and
extracting honey from every object, will be farmed, which, when they
become numerous, will cause a glorious change in the moral world, the
first germ of which will be traced to the properly managed gallery
lessons of an infant school. Having asked the children if they are
tired, the teacher, if he receives an answer in the negative, may thus
proceed:--
Q. What have we been hearing about?
A. Turf.
Q. What is the use of turf?
A. To make fires.
Q. What other use is sometimes made of it?
A. To build houses.
Q. Where do they build turf houses?
A. In Ireland.
Q. Are they not very cold?
A. No; if they are kept mended, they are not.
Q. What do you call people, when they like to sleep in the cold rather
than mend their houses?
A. Lazy.
Q. Is it bad to be lazy?
A. Yes; very bad.
Q. What do we call it besides being lazy?
A. Being idle.
Q. Are idle people very happy?
A. No; they are always miserable.
Q. Right; and I hope no little children will be ever idle; they should
always try to be useful, and do all they can to help their friends.
Now tell
me, where is the turf got From?
A. From bogs.
Q. What are they called in England?
A. Mosses and fens.
Q. Are the bogs in England larger than in Ireland?
A. No; the Irish bogs are the largest.
Q. What animals live in the bogs?
A. Some sorts of birds.
Q. Do men and women live in them?
A. No.
Q. Why not?
A. They are too wet and soft.
Q. What very dangerous places are in some parts of them?
A. Bog-holes.
Q. What are they?
A. Deep holes full of water.
Q. What did I tell you were in some parts of these bogs?
A. Nice green islands.
Q. Are they of any use?
A. Yes; the people put cows and horses to feed on them.
Q. How do they get across the bog?
A. They make a kind of rough road over to them.
Q. What do they cut the turf with?
A. A sort of spade with two sides.
Q. What is this called?
A. A Slane.
Q. When the turf is cut, what do they do next?
A. Put it in heaps to dry.
Q. What were those great bogs many hundred years ago?
A. Beautiful forests of fine large trees.
Q. What flowed through those forests?
A. Nice bright rivers.
Q. What sang in the trees?
A. Pretty birds.
Q. What eat the grass?
A. Fine large stags and deer.
Q. How did those beautiful places become ugly black wet bogs?
A. The trees, when they got old, fell into the rivers and stopped them
up.
Q. What did this cause?
A. The water flowed over the banks.
Q. What harm did this do?
A. It made all the nice grass wet and marshy.
Q. What more?
A. It rotted the roots of the trees.
Q. What happened then?
A. They all fell down.
Q. In some hundred years, what did all those forests become?
A. Great bogs.
Q. Are any of the trunks or bodies of those old trees ever found?
A. Yes; many hundreds are yet far under the bogs.
Q. Are they of any use?
A. Yes; they are useful to make chairs, tables, and presses.
Q. What colour are they?
A. As black as a piece of coal.
Q. When they are polished, do they look nice?
A. Yes; so bright you can see your face in them.
Q. What is this wood called?
A. Bog-oak.
Q. Will you all try to remember this lesson?
A. We will. Teacher. That is right; for little children should always
remember the pretty things that their teacher takes such trouble to
tell them.
In places where coal is most burned, a piece of it may be made the
medium of a very useful and instructive lesson, being so familiar an
object, their attention will be arrested by its being made the subject
of a lesson; and their curiosity aroused to know every thing about
it. When the teacher asks what is this, the simultaneous shout, of
"a piece of coal," will convince him that he has arrested
their
attention; and a few questions will exhaust their stock of information
on the subject--they will tell him its uses are to make fires to boil
up their dinners, &c. &c. He may then proceed as follows:--You
see,
little children, this piece of coal; look at it attentively; it is
black and shining; and you all know will burn very quickly. The places
from whence all coal is brought are called coal mines; the men who
dig it out of the ground, and the ships that carry it over the sea,
are called colliers, and the place where the coals are got is called
a colliery. The coal mines are deep holes made very far under the
ground, in order to get at the coal; some of them go under the sea.
The colliers live a great part of their life, in those dark holes,
in order to get us coal to make us fires to dress our food, and very
often are killed, either by the falling in of the roof from above, or
from a sort of air called fire-damp, which, if touched with any fire,
will blow up like gunpowder, and will kill any person that is near it;
the poor colliers are also often smothered by the bad air that is in
those damp, dark holes; so you see, little children, what dangers they
go through, in order to get us coal, which we could very badly do
without.
How very good God is to us; he made this coal under the earth that
we
might have nice fires to dress our food, and warm ourselves by in
cold weather; we should be very thankful to him for all his great
blessings, and should never do anything to make him angry with us; he
is very sorry when he sees a little child naughty, because he has done
every thing to make us happy, and we never can be so if we are naughty
and bad. Bad boys and girls are never happy, and God does not love
them when they are so, and it is very sad to make God angry with us.
Coal is very useful for other things besides making fires to dress
our
food, and to warm us. Many things that are very useful could not be
made without it. The gas that lights the streets is made from coal,
and when the gas is taken from it what is left is called coke, which
makes a very bright warm fire.
The teacher that properly enters into the spirit of these lessons,
may
find in the simplest objects, a never-ending source of pleasure and
instruction for his infant pupils. No person who is not qualified to
give proper and really useful gallery lessons is by any means fit for
a teacher of infants; to learn the mere routine of an infant school
is
not very difficult, but this will be of no avail if the teacher have
not qualifications of a much higher order, which will enable him
continually to pour instruction clothed in simple language, into
the minds of his pupils; simplicity is the life and soul of gallery
teaching; without this, the breath is wasted, and time is spent in
vain. To teach infants we must reduce our language to their tender
capacities, and become, in idea and words, one of themselves. Having
given the children your information on a piece of coal, you now
proceed to get it back, as follows
Q. Little children, what have we been speaking about?
A. About coal.
Q. What colour is it?
A. Black.
Q. Is it anything besides?
A. Yes; shining.
Q. What are the places called from whence coal is got?
A. Coal-mines.
Q. What are the men that dig it out of the ground and the ships that
carry it over the sea called?
A. Colliers.
Q. What is the place called where the coal pits are made?
A. A colliery.
Q. What are coal pits?
A. Deep holes dug to get at the coal.
Q. Are the colliers in danger down in these deep pits?
A. They are.
Q. From what?
A. From fire-damp?
Q. What is it?
A. A sort of air that blows up like gun-powder.
Q. From what more are they in danger?
A. The roofs falling in.
Q. From what more?
A. From bad air which often smothers them.
Q. What is made from coal to light the streets?
A. Gas.
Q. What is coal called after the gas has been taken from it?
A. Coke.
Q. Does coke make a good fire?
A. Yes; very bright and strong.
Q. Who made the coal?
A. God.
Q. What should we be to him for it?
A. Very thankful.
Q. How can we shew we are thankful?
A. By being very good.
Q. Is God glad to see a child naughty?
A. No; he is very sorry.
Q. Does he love naughty children?
A. No; he does not.
Q. Are naughty children happy?
A. No; very unhappy.
Thus every lesson may be made not only a vehicle
for conveying instruction, but also of instilling into the infant mind
a reverence, a sense of gratitude and love towards that great Being
who called us all into existence; this should be never lost sight of,
in giving the child those primary sentiments, reverence and gratitude
towards its God, you lay a basis on which doctrinal religion may be
afterwards built with more advantage. The child thus early trained in
such feelings, conveyed in a manner so admirably adapted to its tender
mind, can scarcely fail, unless it possesses a heart of great natural
depravity, of becoming a good man, and it is thus that infant schools
may become a great and lasting blessing to the country. But where
this is overlooked--where the vital principle of the infant system
is rejected, and the mere mechanical parts alone retained, as to any
great and lasting benefit, it will be a complete and unhappy failure.
That the grand object of the infant system may be accomplished,
namely, of raising up a generation superior to the last, both in
religious, moral, and intellectual acquirements, an immense caution
and great experience in the selection of teachers is required; till
proper teachers are universally provided the infant system will never
be really successful: success does not merely consist in universal
adoption and extension, if it did it would be now really so. But
another thing is wanting before it can be called successful, that is,
it must be understood.
None can understand it but thinkers, and deep thinkers, and thinkers
in the right direction. Merely to glance around and gather scraps of
knowledge from the various, "ologies" in existence, which
the "march
of intellect" has brought into being, and which were unknown to
our
forefathers; and then to force them on the young memory at random, may
be to teach what was not before taught, but it is not to display any
new method of teaching; any more efficient way of communicating
knowledge. Those who would truly understand the infant system, must
think for themselves, and observe the workings of the young mind, mark
the intellectual principles which first develope themselves, strive
to
understand the simple laws of mental action; and all this that they
may know how to teach in accordance with them. When this is fairly
done, perhaps the whole that is recorded in this book, may be thought
more valuable than it is at present, and be found a not unworthy
subject to devote a whole life to become acquainted with and elucidate
both practically and theoretically. Others then will, perhaps, not be
quite so audacious in unjust plagiarisms. When Columbus had made
the egg stand on an end all others could then do it. When he had
discovered America, every one said they might have done it also. All
great and important truths are simple, and when presented to the mind,
although unknown before, seem as if they had been well known, there
is such an accurate consistency between the mind and them. This leads
me to suppose that there is simple and useful truths in my volumes,
as
every one seems to take them for their own. I can only say that they
have cost me many and many an hour of close observation, and deep
and independent thinking. I have devoted my whole life for the good
of others, and have injured myself and family, that I might do so. To
rescue little children from vice and misery, and to have them placed
under physical, intellectual, moral, and religious discipline, has
been the delight of my heart, and the object of my life. After this
labour, to have my inventions pirated, my plans made use of in part,
and in the rest spoken against; to have others to reap the fields that
I have sown, and at the same time traduce and injure me; to be thus
thrust out as it were from my rightful employment, and left in
comparative obscurity as old age begins to draw on; requires a spirit
stronger than that of man, and a heart more than human, not to feel
it, and feel it deeply. I care little for myself, but regret most to
see spurious systems of infant education palmed upon the public by
ignorant persons, and thus deprive them of a great benefit which they
might possess.
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