receives be put into order by him? Are
some to be selected as vital, others to be grouped under these, and still
others to be slighted or even entirely omitted from consideration,
because of their insignificance? And is he to determine all this for
himself, remembering that thorough study requires the neglect of some
things as well as the emphasis of others? Or do all facts have much the
same value, so that they should receive about equal attention, as is the
case with the multiplication tables? And, instead of being grouped
according to relations and relative values, should they be studied, one
at a time, in the order in which they are presented, with the idea that a
topic is mastered when each single statement upon it is understood? Or,
if not this, has the reliable author at least already attended to this whole
matter, making the various relations of facts to one another and their
relative values so clear that the student has little work to do but to
follow the printed statement? Is it even highly unsafe for the latter to
assume the responsibility of judging relative values? And would the
neglect or skipping of many supposedly little things be more likely to
result in careless, slipshod work than in thoroughness?
4. The judging of the worth of statements, as a fourth factor in study
The scientist in charge of the above-mentioned investigation was, no
doubt, a modest man. Yet he saw fit to question the old assumption that
yellow fever was spread by invisible particles called "fomites." Indeed,
he had the boldness to disprove it. Then he disproved, also, the
assumption that the fever was contagious by contact. After that he set
out to test a hypothesis of his own. His attitude toward the results of
former investigations was thus skeptically critical. Every proposition
was to be questioned, and the evidence of facts, rather than personal
authority or the authority of time, was the sole final test of validity.
What should be the attitude of the young student toward the authorities
that he studies? Certainly authors are, as a rule, more mature and far
better informed upon the subjects that they discuss than he, otherwise
he would not be pursuing them. Are they still so prone to error that he
should be critical toward them? At any rate, should he set himself up as
their judge; at times condemning some of their statements outright, or
accepting them only in part,--and thus maintain independent views? Or
would that be the height of presumption on his part? While it is true
that all authors are liable to error, are they much less liable to it in their
chosen fields than he, and can he more safely trust them than himself?
And should he, therefore, being a learner, adopt a docile, passive
attitude, and accept whatever statements are presented? Or, finally, is
neither of these attitudes correct? Instead of either condemning or
accepting authors, is it his duty merely to understand and remember
what they say?
5. Memorizing, as a fifth factor in study
The scientist is greatly dependent upon his memory. So is every one
else, including the young student. What suggestions, if any, can be
made about the retaining of facts?
In particular, how prominent in study should be the effort to memorize?
Should memorizing constitute the main part of study--as it so often
does--or only a minor part? It is often contrasted with thinking. Is such
a contrast justified? If so, should the effort to memorize usually precede
the thinking--as is often the order in learning poetry and Bible
verses--or should it follow the thinking? And why? Can one greatly
strengthen the memory by special exercises for that purpose? Finally,
since there are some astonishingly poor ways of memorizing--as was
shown in chapter one--there must be some better ways. What, then, are
the best, and why?
6. The using of ideas, as a sixth factor in study
Does all knowledge, like this of the scientist, require contact with the
world as its endpoint or goal? And is it the duty of the student to pursue
any topic, whether it be a principle of physics, or a moral idea, or a
simple story, until it proves of benefit to some one? In that case,
enough repetition might be necessary to approximate habits--habits of
mind and habits of action--for the skill necessary for the successful use
of some knowledge cannot otherwise be attained. How, then, can habits
become best established? Or is knowledge something apart from the
active world, ending rather in self?
Would it be narrowly utilitarian and even foolish to expect that one's
learning shall necessarily function in practical life? And should the
student rather rest content to acquire knowledge for its own sake, not
bothering--for the present,
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