The Reconstructed School | Page 7

look back to our
present and commend or condemn according to the practices of this
generation. And the only way to make a sane and right future is to
create a sane and right present.

CHAPTER THREE
THE FUTURE AS RELATED TO THE PRESENT

In planning a journey the one constant is the destination. All the other
elements are variable, and, therefore, subordinate. So, also, in planning
a course of study. The qualities to be developed through the educational
processes are the constants, while the agencies by which these qualities
are to be attained are subject to change. The course of study provides
for the school activities for the child for a period of twelve years, and it
is altogether pertinent to inquire what qualities we hope to develop by
means of these school activities. To do this effectively we must
visualize the pupil when he emerges from the school period and ask
ourselves what qualities we hope to have him possess at the close of
this period. If we decide upon such qualities as imagination, initiative,
aspiration, appreciation, courage, loyalty, reverence, a sense of
responsibility, integrity, and serenity, we have discovered some of the
constants toward which all the work of the twelve years must be
directed. In planning a course of study toward these constants we do
not restrict the scope of the pupil's activities; quite the reverse. We thus
enlarge the concept of education both for himself and his teachers and
emphasize the fact that education is a continuous process and may not
be marked by grades or subjects. For the teachers we establish goals of
school endeavor and thus unify and articulate all their efforts. We focus
their attention upon the pupil as they would all wish to see him when he
completes the work of the school.
If children are asked why they go to school, nine out of ten, perhaps,
will reply that they go to school to learn arithmetic, grammar,
geography, and history. Asked what their big purpose is in teaching,
probably three out of five teachers will answer that they are actuated by
a desire to cause their pupils to know arithmetic, grammar, geography,
and history. One of the other five teachers may echo something out of
her past accumulations to the effect that her work is the training for
citizenship, and the fifth will say quite frankly that she is groping about,
all the while, searching for the answer to that very question. It would be
futile to ask the children why they desire knowledge of these subjects
and there might be hazard in propounding the same question to the
three teachers. They teach arithmetic because it is in the course of study;
it is in the course of study because the superintendent put it there; and
the superintendent put it there because some other superintendent has it

in his course of study.
Now arithmetic may, in reality, be one of the best things a child can
study; but the child takes it because the teacher prescribes it, and the
teacher takes it on faith because the superintendent takes it on faith and
she cannot go counter to the dictum of the superintendent. Besides, it is
far easier to teach arithmetic than it would be to challenge the right of
this subject to a place in the course of study. To most people, including
many teachers, arithmetic is but a habit of thinking. They have been
contracting this habit through all the years since the beginning of their
school experience, until now it seems as inevitable as any other
habitual affair. It is quite as much a habit of their thinking as eating,
sleeping, or walking. If there were no arithmetic, they argue
subconsciously, there could be no school; for arithmetic and school are
synonymous. Again, let it be said that there is no thought here of
inveighing against arithmetic or any other subject of the curriculum.
Not arithmetic in itself, but the arithmetic habit constitutes the incubus,
the evil spirit that needs to be exorcised.
This arithmetic habit had its origin, doubtless, in the traditional concept
of knowledge as power. An adage is not easily controverted or
eradicated. The copy-books of the fathers proclaimed boldly that
knowledge is power, and the children accepted the dictum as inviolable.
If it were true that knowledge is power, the procedure of the schools
and the course of conduct of the teachers during all these years would
have ample justification. The entire process would seem simplicity
itself. So soon as we acquire knowledge we should have power--and
power is altogether desirable. The trouble is that we have been
confusing knowledge and wisdom in the face of the poet's declaration
that "Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, have ofttimes no
connection." Our experience should have