PRIMARY EDUCATION—H Incentives Needed To Make Children Want To Learn

Press, Volume CVII, Issue 31383, 31 May 1967, Page 10

PRIMARY EDUCATION—H Incentives Needed To Make Children Want To Learn

/Written for "The Prese" by

K. R. FARNSWORTH.

M.A.. B.Sc.

fOxonJ, A.N.Z.J.C.)

The climate of education here is curiously like that of Europe and America in the ’twenties and ’thirties. Apparatus is that of the ’sixties, all right, nothing is wanting in techniques, from Cuisenaire rods to P.S.S.C. physics and chem. study, nor in comfort and harmony of the surroundings (no more scarred dark-brown desks in high rooms with shiny acid-green walls which make you feel as if you were working several fathoms deep), nor in lipservice, at least, to the principles of friendliness and liberalisation of teaching which have brought a welcome transformation i n modern times. But all this goes just so far, and not far enough.

'earing about it, seeing it, meeting the friendly, sensible, humorous teachers at P.T.A. meetings, we would expect the children to emerge with imaginations stimulated,, perceptions quickened, a good clear understanding of what they learn, and a strong ent v usiasm for school and the use of their own intelligences. Is this what we find? For a narrow top stream to some extent, yes. Why not for the others, too? Few would dream, these days, of teaching a youngster to swim by dropping him-her into deep-water with admonishments to “watch how the other children are doing, and surely he-she can do as well as them.” But with a class of 40 children with no very great incentive to learn, there is little else to be done except a mental parallel of the shove-in technique. Drastic methods succeed with the few who are well-equipped to begin with; but there just is not the time, even where there is the skill, to give to all the normal and sub-normal others the attention and minute individual help they need. Now, most of them would not need it, or would need far less, if they wanted, really wanted, to help themselves.

Parents’ Attitude

But when we, their parents, and we, their teachers, treat them in a bluff, jollying sort of way, as though they were not people at all, but some kind of monkey-like creature

with an incomprehensible way of thinking and an unpredictable way of acting—largely because we are afraid of them, afraid of what they may do to upset us and make us lose face with our contemporaries; when we, in fact, tell them, or imply, that when they don’t quite understand, it is their fault, and they are being silly, and put up before them an image of a wise, calm, sensible child, who never would have difficulty in comprehending our simple instructions; when we rarely give them a worth-while target to aim at, except a vague future one which to them might just as well be in the next century; when we far too often, even sneer lightly at booklearning, and rush off to physical pursuits with great boundlngs of relief, and say things like “Never mind, the holidays will be here soon!!” and “Now you can forget all about School for a bit, and really enjoy yourself, son”; how can we be really surprised if they do not see any great point, or benefit, in helping themselves beyond that speed at which actual unpleasantness ends? How many of us adults would so exert ourselves, if we had ‘ no examination to pass, or higher post to qualify for, or any other incentive beyond pleasing the giants who kept us, and who were moody about what they wanted, and had not the time, nor much inclination, to bring their wishes for us to pass?

Children’s Thinking

I can remember about as much of how I thought and felt as a child as most people can, I suppose; but I cannot remember it being much different from how I think and feel now. My fears and desires now are usually for other things; but then they were not wild, or illogical, or inconsequential—not to me; and pleasure and distress, determination and anticipation, dread and cunning were as fully developed; and I felt as complete and fulfilled a personality then, as I do now. Of course, I wasn’t; but I felt so; and so do all children, even those who appear most puddingy. Intelligence and emotion are well-developed at that age, though perhaps under less control. What is lacking are facts, and experience in cause and effect, and practice in using the intelligence.

And what will best encourage children to acquire these is incentive—a horrible word, but there is none other so inclusive. What incentives can we offer, to supplement the emotions and instincts, and keep the spin going when the natural forces are temporarily on the wane?

Fear Not A Teacher Tops can be kept spinning with whips, and the same used to be thought true of children. Nowadays canes and straps are brandished less; there is more shake about them than shock. I do not think there should even be that—not for work. For discipline, as a last solemn resort, it is a different matter; but as a teacher, fear is only a short-signted ugly beast. He gets short-term results, though, and many adults will speak (now that the danger is past) of the debt they owe to this or that ferocious character, who “made them work,” and “taught them about all they know.” It always seems impolite to ask them how much they know; and to suggest that they might have done even better and would have been a great deal happier, too, if they had been taught in an enlightened way before they met this tartar (who would then not have needed to be one) would be vain.

Anyone who has seen a busy and contented class working (there are plenty of them in New Zealand, and increasing annually) will at least partly agree that it is worth some trouble, and some initial defeats, to procure it. All the same, I am not advocating namby-pamby methods. High standards must be exacted; the children’s best must be expected of them, in every way. Bests differ; to know what any particular

child’s best is, comes from experience; which is where teachers are irreplaceable by teaching-machines. The greatest incentive for any child is, of course, the desire to please the giants. This is due not to servility, nor apprehension, but love. If we ; neglect or undervalue this . love, whether towards parents' i or teachers (in the latter case , it is mostly a mixture of re- • spect and admiration), if we . show that we. expect little, . then little is what we get; are i getting, indeed, far too often. I Desire To Climb Next is the desire to climb: ' to improve, to cast out the ' bad things and bring into our- ; selves the good—the things ; the giants say are good. This is really only rarely deformed ; into the desire to be better than other people, which is ( why marks and top-of-the- ; form mean little to children ’ inexperienced in school ways, ; and as yet unaware of how they are expected to react. But climbing is a wearisome ' business if the same mountain goes on for several years and ! there are only very minor i and unimportant peaks on the way, and you have only the j haziest idea of the pleasures . and value of the summit, anyway. So another, and very , effective, incentive is to provide a succession of clear high places by which progress can be marked, and from which the ground already conquered can be surveyed. These should be not too hard, nor too easy. They should more often be a contest between child and mountain, rather than between child and child; and pointed up with minor (but genuine) celebrations to make the giants’ pleasure obvious. Most teachers use the marked script or the short oral test for this purpose, but even when they are alertly corrected by someone sensitive to the Individualities of the pupils, the effect is still fugitive and produces only a haphazard sense of achievement. Much better is the stages system. According to this, the total syllabus for each subject is broken down into a dozen or more stages, each with its own sub-syllabus. Progress from one to another of these is made by scoring 70 per cent or so in a semiformal stage test; failure means only another hatder look at the weak points and a second shot, but success will also mean mention in Assembly, a large symbol inscribed on the exercise-book, perhaps some “good marks” or whatever system of rewards is current in the school, and entry on the great master-stage-list on the school notice-board. These things are all quick and easy, have a remarkably inspiring effect on even the slow pupils, and also give headmasters, form-masters and other report-writers ah instant and effective over-all view of every pupil’s position and speed of progress. Other Benefits Other benefits will be evident to anyone who thinks about it. This stages system, once it has shaken down and become adapted, is exceedingly successful, although so simple. It was so at our school in England, and a version of it is now proving very helpful at Te Puke College, though this is at secondary level. Another tremendous incentive, also now being tested at Te Puke, and of course a general rule at most British private schools, would be the cautious relaxation of the smothering grip of social promotion. The theory of this, which has a good deal to recommend it, is that a child out of his/her own age group will also be out of his/her element socially and physie ally, will find activities other than academic either too hard or too easy, and will develop therefore crookedly. And it does happen, in rare cases. But in most, the child in practice returns to his own social group (unless artificially restricted) as soon as studies are over; if not, it is likely that as much harm will be done to him by keeping

him rigorously back among children of slower intelligence than his own as by letting him move up; and, indeed, it is this point which makes a social promotion such a stiffing drag upon progress—there is nothing to encourage the bright child to cudgel his brains and bring the best out of himself unless he is also naturally industrious—which most bright children, in common with the rest of us, are not. Nor does anyone, however bright, enjoy being called a swot. The image of a weedy little child with huge spectacles, only better than us at work because he tries harder than we are shoving our guts out in the scrum—and all so that be can feel superior to us common clods —makes most common clods see red; but why can’t we put up with a few weedy ones? I know two, one a mathematician and the other a cipher expert, who were said to be worth a division each in the war; and, anyway, if they hadn’t been weedy, they might only have been worth a platoon, like each of us. Let them feel superior, if, indeed, they do.

Bursary Examination

A further incentive, especially over the last year or two at primary level, or perhaps at intermediate, would be a bursary examination, on the lines of the one now operating between secondary school and university. It could be taken by all, and act as a placing examination for the future third form; but also to as many of the best pupils as the Government could afford, judged on their previous school record as well as on this examination, would be awarded a £l5O or £lOO bursanr, nominally perhaps to help in purchasing the new uniform, etc., required. This suggestion will not please a great many people, who are very conscious of the possible evils of such an examination, and indeed of any examination. But children of 13 are not such sensitive plants as some educationalists would have us believe; and the two principal evils, which have dogged the British “Eleven-Plus,” cramming and psychological-pressure-due - to parents’ anxiety, would be greatly modified by the much wider range of possible subjects, especially if they were introduced, as is becoming necessary and in mathematics, through “New-Mathe-nutics” is actually happening —a year or more earlier, and by the greater age and stability of the children.

The common examination for entrance to public schools in Britain takes place at this

were most difficult to obtain, and psychological pressure at its heaviest, in the late ’fifties, L who would have been in as' good a position as anyone to have heard about it, was conscious of no graver casualties than, some concern and headshaking. Of course, there are many other points, many other suggestions, to be made. But th'e important, the vital thing at present is that the nature and the gravity of the position be recognised, and its urgency. We suffer now from a degree of that euphoria which gripped the Grasshopper who fiddled his way through the Summer, no doubt explaining that he would be gravely wounded psychologically if he started hard work too early. Should we dream of expecting much of a Rugby XV if it were not assiduously and urgently prepared and drilled first? What real reason have we to believe that the insides of heads are less tough than the outsides, even in a team of 12-year-olds? (Concluded).

This Is the second and final of Mr Farnsworth’s articles on the New Zealand primary school system. He Is a teacher of 28 years’ experience. In his first article he pointed to deficiencies In the system, and now suggests some possible radical Improvements.