LITERATURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3488, 18 January 1921, Page 54

LITERATURE.

BOOK NOTICES. “A Dominie in Doubt." By A. S. Neill, author* of "A Dominie’s Log,” “A Dominie Dismissed,” and ‘‘The Booming of Bunkie.” Herbert Jenkins, London. To those -who have read and admired “A Dominie’s Log,” and accepted enthusiastically the author’s educational theories, it will be disconcerting to hear the author's dictum on its value as delivered to a schoolmaster friend. “As a work on education the ‘Log’ isn’t worth a damn.” “I say that,” he continued, “because when I wrote it I knew nothing about the most important factor in education—the psychology of children.’’ In the five years that have elapsed since “The Dominie’s Log” was written he has studied the Freudian psychology—which leads for the present—and has a good deal to say incidentally of the unconscious mind, of psycho-analysis, of mental “complexes,” etc. “The Log” was the truth for him five years ago, but is so no longer; “a book is out of date five minutes after it is written.” So, taking the standpoint of the author, we must not look for finality in the pronouncements of the present book. Truth is unattainable; or rather final truth is non-existent. “Would vou not teach the difference between right and wrong?” a lady teacher asked Mr Neill. “No; because I do not know what is right myself.” Most people will agree with her retort, “Then I don’t think you are fit to be a teacher.” If we are to win the real enlightenment that Mr Neill’s book offers us we must not tie him down to the literal meaning of each of his statements. We must read him as we read Chesterton, for his suggestiveness, for the stimulating quality of liis utterances. He is one of the writers who makes you think. And his breeziness and unconventionality will make his educational books interesting even to those who have no special interest in education. Quotation from such a writer is tempting. “But, man, what are schools for?” asks Macdonald, a dominie of the conventional l | type and a mighty wielder of the tawse. “Creation, self expression—the only thing that matters in education. I don’t ! care what a child is doing in the way | of creation, whether he is making tables, or porridge, or sketches, or—- “ Snowballs,” prompted Macdonald. “Or Snowballs,” I said. “There is more ! true education in making a .snowball than ; in listening to an hour’s lecture on | grammar. . . . You make a class sit j in front of you for an hour, and you I threaten to whack the first child that ] doesn’t pay attention.” | “But, hang it all, man, you can't teach if you haven’t got the children’s atteni tion.” “And you can’t teach when you have got it,” I said. “A child learns only when it is interested. Attention means the applying of the conscious mind to a thing, interest means the application of both the conscious and unconscious mind. When you force a child to attend to a lesson for fear of the tawse, you merely engage the least important part of the mind—the conscious. While he stares at j the blackboard his unconscious is concerned with other things." “What sort of things; ’ asked Macdonald. “Very orobably his unconscious is working out an elaborate plan to murder you,” I said, “and I don’t blame it either.” The substance of the teaching here expressed is that the child must be an active, pleased agent throughout; it is the same with that of Edmond Holmes, of Madame Montessori, and many present day educational reformers—indeed is common to all of them, however they may differ in i details of theory and method. It was the teaching of Mr Neill’s earlier books, but is now supported by the new psychology, which lavs such stress on unconscious mental processes, in n articular on the Freudian theory of the far reaching results of psychical suppression. This volume is j dedicated to Homer Lane, “whose first i lecture convinced me that I knew nothing | about education,” but with the warning that Homer Lane must not be held responsible for the views herein expressed. Mr Neill’s prescription for the teaching of English literature is original. “Usually the teacher begins with Chaucer and works forward to Dickens.” (The reviewer doubts whether such a very foolish procedure as beginning with an author whose language is obsolete is in the least usual, but let that pass ; certainly the choice and arrangement of authors is often very ill adapted to awaken a love of literature in young pupils). “I would begin with Comic Cuts and Doadvvood Dick and work back to Chaucer. My way is to encourage the lad to devour tales of blood and thunder so that in a short time blood and thunder have no more interest for him. The reason why most of the literature published is tripe is that the public likes tripe, and it likes tripe because its infantile interests in tripe was suppressed in favour of Chaucer and Shakespeare.” According to Mr Neill it it? quite wrong to desire that a teacher should be an expert at his subject. “He should know very little about it. No child should have perfection put before it. Ike teacher should never trv to teach; he should work alongside the children : he should be a coworker, not a model.” The result of ; obvious cleverness on the part of the | teacher is that the child “develops a I danoerous inferiority complex." We may ; recall how little Paul Dombev was ; oppreused with a sense of Miss Cornelia j Bliinber’s wonderful knowledge when she . closed the open lesson book lie handed ■ her and said. “Go on, .Dombev.” Piresuiu• i i ablv Mr Neill will concede that it is | 1 desirable that a teacher should be capable j • of affording his pupil the help the latter | needs at each step of his progress; few j I children, certainly no critical young i people, will tolerate a bungling teacher. | But, as usual, ho does not qualify. “The only remedy 1 can think of (against j obvious expertness on the teacher’s side

and. paralysing sense of inferiority on the pupil’s) is to make each teacher take up a new subject at the beginning of every school year.” Some of the cases of “psycho-analysis cited by Mr Neill—to discover the reasons of a terror or dislike, or of an instance of forgetfulness—are good examples of the common tendency to make facts fit one's theory. And the unscientific person will wonder if we are much wiser when we say, “Tommy Smith suffers under a father complex,” resulting in “a bad inferiority complex,” than when we say, “his father’s bullying has taken the heart out of the poor little chap.” Repression and suppression are for Mr Neill the great evils not only in education, but in human institutions and actions generally; men are naturally good, only perverted by restraint and injustice; liberty is the one- thing needed. In these basal principles his teaching is that of Rousseau. In order that the liberty of one inav not infringe the liberty of others, the aim of education must be to develop sympathy, and thus resolve self love into altruism. “No human ever rises above selfishness. I buy a motor cycle because 1 am selfish, and you found a hospital for orphans because you are selfish—it is vour pleasure to help the poor.” This is a familiar fallacy; in buying a motor cycle I am thinking of my own pleasure, in founding a hospital—or say in visiting a sick person—l am thinking of the happiness of others, my mind is on them, not on myself. While a few will accept Mr Neill’s theories unreservedly—and we are sure he would be the last to look for such acceptance—all will find his expression of them stimulating and often enlightening. And all, whatever their doctrines, may accept such pronouncements as the following : “The aim of education should be to help a child to live its cosmic life fully, to live for others.” “If I hate my pupils I evoke hate from them; _ if I love them I evoke love from them in return.” “If a school produces one bov who hates and fears His teachers, it is a bad school.”