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The feeling is rather common that human experience becomes rich only
as the adult period is reached; that childhood is comparatively barren
of needs, and valuable mainly as a period of storage of knowledge to
meet wants that will arise later. Yet is this true? By the time the
adult state is reached, one has passed through the principal kinds of
experience; the period of struggle is largely over, and the results
have registered themselves in habits. The adult is to a great extent a
bundle of habits.

The child, and the youth in the adolescent age, on the other hand, are
just going the round of experience for the first few times. They are
just forming their judgments as to the values of things about them.
Their intellectual life is abundant, as is shown by their innumerable
questions. Their temptations--such as to become angry, to fight, to
lie, to cheat, and to steal--are more numerous and probably more
severe than they will usually be later; their opportunities to please
and help others, or to offend and hinder, are without limit; and their
joys and sorrows, though of briefer duration than later, are more
numerous and often fully as acute. In other words, they are in the
midst of growth, of habit formation, both intellectually and morally.
Theirs is the time of life when, to a peculiar degree, they are
experimentally related to their environment. Why, then, should they be
taught to look past this period, to their distant future as the
harvest time for their knowledge and powers? The occasions are
abundant _now_ for turning facts and abilities to account, and it
is normal to expect them to see many of these opportunities. Proper
development requires that they be trained to look for them, instead of
looking past them.

Here is seen the need of one more reform in education. Children used
to be regarded as lacking value in themselves; their worth lay in
their promise of being men and women; and if, owing to ill health,
this promise was very doubtful, they were put aside. For education
they were given that mental pabulum that was considered valuable to
the adult; and their tastes, habits, and manners were judged from the
same viewpoint.

Very recently one radical improvement has been effected in this
program. As illustrated in the doctrine of apperception, we have grown
to respect the natures of children, even to accept their instincts,
their native tendencies, and their experiences as the proper _basis_
for their education. That is a wonderful advance. But we do not yet
regard their present experience as furnishing the _motive_ for their
education. We need to take one more step and recognize their present
lives as the field wherein the knowledge that they acquire shall
function. We do this to some extent; but we lack faith in the
abundance of their present experience, and are always impatiently
looking forward to a time when their lives will be rich.

In feeding children we have our eyes primarily on the present; food is
given them in order to be assimilated and used _now_ to satisfy
_present_ needs; that is the best way of guaranteeing health for
the future. Likewise in giving them mental and spiritual food, our
attention should be directed primarily to its present value. It should
be given with the purpose of present nourishment, of satisfying
present needs; other more distant needs will thereby be best served.

A few years ago, when I was discussing this topic with a class at
Teachers College, I happened to observe a recitation in the Horace
Mann school in which a class of children was reading _Silas Marner_.
They were frequently reproved for their unnaturally harsh voices, for
their monotones, indistinct enunciation, and poor grouping of words.
In the Speyer school, nine blocks north of this school, I had often
observed the same defects.

At about that time one of my students, interested in the early history
of New York, happened to call upon an old woman living in a shanty
midway between these two schools. She was an old inhabitant, and one
of the early roadways that the student was hunting had passed near her
house. In conversation with the woman he learned that she had had five
children, all of whom had been taken from her some years before,
within a fortnight, by scarlet fever; and that since then she had been
living alone. When he remarked that she must feel lonesome at times,
tears çame to her eyes, and she replied, "Sometimes." As he was
leaving she thanked him for his call and remarked that she seldom had
any visitors; she added that, if some one would drop in now and then,
either to talk or to read to her, she would greatly appreciate it; her
eyes had so failed that she could no longer read for herself.

Here was an excellent chance to improve the children's reading by
enabling them to see that the better their reading the more pleasure
could they give to those about them. This seems typical of the present
relation between the school and its environing world. While the two
need each other sadly, the school is isolated somewhat like the old-
time monastery. The fixing of specific aims for study can aid
materially in establishing the normal relation, and children can
certainly contribute to this end by discovering some of these purposes
themselves. That is one of the things that they should _learn_ to do.

2. The example to be set by the teacher

By her own method of instruction the teacher can set an example of
what she desires from her pupils in the way of concrete aims. For
instance: (a) during recitation she can occasionally suggest
opportunities for the application of knowledge and ability. "This is a
story that you might tell to other children," she might say; or, "Here
is something that you might dramatize." "You might talk with your
father or mother about this." "Could you read this aloud to your
family?"

Again, (b) in the assignment of lessons she might set a
definite problem that would bring the school work into direct touch
with the outside world. In fine art, instead of having children make
designs for borders, without any particular use for the design, she
might suggest, "Find some object or wall surface that needs a border,
and see if you can design one that will be suitable." As a task in
arithmetic for a fifth-year class in a small town, she might assign
the problem, "To find out as accurately as possible whether or not it
pays to keep a cow." Finally, (c) as part of an examination, she can
ask the class to recall purposes that they have kept in mind in the
study of certain topics. By such means the teacher can make clear to a
class what is meant by interesting or useful aims of study, and also
impress them with the fact that she feels the need of studying under
the guidance of such aims.

4. The sources to which children should look for suggestions

The teacher can teach the children _where to look for suggestions_ in
their search for specific purposes. During meals, three times a day,
interesting topics of conversation are welcome; indeed, the dearth of
conversation at such times, owing to lack of "something to say," is
often depressing. There is often need of something to unite the family
of evenings, such as a magazine article read aloud, or a good
narrative, or a discussion of some timely topic. There are social
gatherings where the people "don't know what to do"; there are
recesses at school where there is the same difficulty; there are
neighbors, brothers and sisters, and other friends who are more
than ready to be entertained, or instructed, or helped. Yet children
often dramatize stories at school, without ever thinking of doing the
same for the entertainment of their family at home. They read good
stories without expecting to tell them to any one. They collect good
ideas about judging pictures, without planning to beautify their homes
through them.

Thus the children can be made conscious that there are
_wants_ on all sides of them, and by some study of their environment
they can find many aims that will give purpose to their school work.
Again, by a review of their past studies, their reading, and their
experience of various kinds, they can be reminded of objects that they
are desirous of accomplishing. It is, perhaps, needless to say that
the teacher herself must likewise make a careful study of the home,
street, and school life of her pupils, of their study and reading, if
she is to guide them most effectually in their own search for
desirable aims.

6. The importance of moderation in demands made upon children

In conclusion, it may be of importance to add that this kind of
instruction can be easily overdone, and it is better to proceed too
slowly than too rapidly. It is a healthy and permanent development
that is wanted, and the teacher should rest satisfied if it is slow.
It is by no means feasible to attempt to subordinate all study to
specific aims; we cannot see our way to accomplish that now. But we
can do something in that direction. Only occasional attempts with the
younger children will be in place; more conscious efforts will be
fitting among older pupils. By the time the elementary school is
finished, a fair degree of success in discovering specific aims can be
expected.

Yet, even if little more than a willingness to _take time to try_
is established, the gain will be appreciable. When children become
interested in a topic, they are impatient to "go on" and "to keep
going on." This continual hurrying forward crowds out reflection. If
they learn no more than to pause now and then in order to find some
bearings on life, and thus do some independent _thinking_, they are
paving the way for the invaluable habit of reflection.