“EDUCATION A PROCESS OF EXPERIENCING THINGS”

Press, Volume XCVIII, Issue 28823, 18 February 1959, Page 7

“EDUCATION A PROCESS OF EXPERIENCING THINGS”

•Education is more than a |i«n<tinr-on of an accumulation of knowledge—it is a process of experiencing things, and . making conclusions for oneself; Tn a museum it is possible for children to experience things that they cannot in the classroom, and there lies the value of museum classes,” said Mr H. W. Beaumont, former educational officer at the Canterbury Museum, last evening. Mr Beaumont was speaking to a meeting of the Association of Friends of the Museum. The -small group, under the care of a well-trained young teacher, was the essential factor in education at the museum, said Mr Beaumont. The 30,000 children who passed through the museum every year were shown things, rather than being told about them in words. “One of the things I am writing against and fighting against is the power of those little black squiggles, words," said Mr Beaumont. “I don’t know why we should have given these things the power they have. ■The printed word is the most sure way that a body of what passes for education is acquired, but it is dangerous for young children, because it is artificial." he said. He questioned the value of teaching children to read before they had acquired the sensmy experience to understand what they were reading "In the museum we deal with realities rather than books," said Mr Beaumont. “And I hope we have done something here to conquer the feel that ‘lf it’s in the book it’s all right.’

“Is it Real?" • Children were interested in real things, he said. The most common question a teacher was asked at the museum was “Is it real?”

"A child wants to know the truth,” he said. It should not be made so easy for him that he did not have to think for himself, however—the best things were those that the child found out for himself.

“In the museum we get along with the minimum of the printed word, and a minimum of the spoken word, too.” said Mr Beaumont. “Often I feel that we have stolen from children the right of finding out for themselves by giving them all the

answers—here we try to- tell them as little as we can, and to ask

them as. much as we ran—answers are up to childre n were shown exth^»l, and .> tOld a utHe about them they discussed them among l^n^ elVeS, _, the teacher lis? *S. d Mr Beau mont. This them to form their own hypotheses, which might be wrong-but a few leading ques T fr om the teacher could soon show them where they were wrong.

Children are three-dimensional creatures, like their environment, and a museum is full of threedimensional material ready to be appraised,” said Mr Beaumont. Two, other dimensions were involved, however; the time dimen-. sion, when things from thousands Of years ago could be handled or seen by children, and the dimension of ‘being,’ in that the children, by looking at, say, a Chinese roof tile, 2000 years old, could feel they were there at the time it was made, and could visualise the workman taking a pride in his work as he shaped the clay.

Success of Technique “Every object carries its problems and shapes its queries,” said Mr Beaumont. “The teacher doesn t solve the problems—he is there only to guide and to offer information that cannot be determined by observation—in fact . ffeneraHy in the position of a benevolent chairman.” Many teachers who had received training at the museum had put the techniques used—“ The reality not the book”—into practice' in .ordinary classes, with-a great deal of success. A conclusion a child developed for itself was of much more value than one given to it by a teacher, and museum education was based on that fact. “Education costs about- £1 a w ?ek a cbiM in New Zealand,” said Mr Beaumont, “but we could spend a great deal more on putting theses ideas into practice, not only m museums but in every school. We have too many large schools, and it is not Irish to say that we should have a great many more small ones.”