Chapter X (pages 178-186), “Importance of Other Children”
Peer groups and slightly older children do much to build character in the young. Contemporaries are better analogues for children than are adults, so they can more easily be emulated. Younger children like to play with older children, but this is true throughout the age spectrum. As a result, where there is free choice, the social groups become segregated by age. Age mixing occurs primarily within families, where only the eldest child lacks the advantage of having slightly older examples at hand. “Small families are in some ways a disadvantage to children, unless supplemented by nursery schools [p. 179].” Slightly older children naturally assume an authority when they play with younger kids, an authority to which the younger kids readily submit. Older children provide the templates and the prods for the reasonable ambitions of younger kids. Dealings with younger kids also provide opportunities for the moral education of the older children, who must learn to share and to accept the depredations that the clumsiness of the tots will generate.
Despite the utility of keeping company with children of different ages, it is contemporaries who are most important, at least for kids of age four or older. “Behaviour to equals is what most needs to be learnt [p. 183]” – because people of all situations are indeed your equals as adults. For this reason, schools, at least if they are good, provide a better environment for training children than within the family. Further, kids need a lot of play, and to meet this need, the company of their schoolfellows is desirable.
[Russell then notes that his godfather, John Stuart Mill, had little play in his childhood, though he did have an amazingly rigorous education starting at a very young age. (Mill detailed his unusual upbringing in his Autobiography.) “From the mere standpoint of acquiring knowledge, the results may be good, but taken all round I cannot admire them [p. 184].” Mill’s difficulty in accepting reasoning that led away from his father’s views constrained his creativity (Russell returns to this theme in Chapter XI, on page 191), and he had a hard time enjoying life. Russell then reveals that he himself had a sort of Mill-lite education, with the same result of adolescent thoughts of suicide. “When I began to associate with contemporaries, I found myself an angular prig. How far I have remained so, it is not for me to say [p. 185].”]
Not all children should be subjected to education with schoolfellows. People with exceptional capabilities but incurable social awkwardness can be bullied mercilessly, so they can be homeschooled – though proper upbringing during infancy would go a long way towards limiting excessive nervousness or social awkwardness.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter IX
Chapter IX (pages 166-177), “Punishment”
Tradition calls for chastisement of children, but the extremes of yesteryear have fallen out of favor, “even in Tennessee [p. 167].” Sharp reproof has a role to play in education, but severe punishment does not; severity should peak at the “natural spontaneous expression of indignation [p. 167].”
After the blandishments of reason have failed, Russell and his wife employ a sort of time out system; their son can rejoin them when he is good, and he understands that to return is to commit to proper behavior. “I believe that reasonable parents create reasonable children [168].” Let the small risks go, though the result will be occasional bruises and cuts – these harms will convince children of the necessity underlying parental prohibition of extremely risky behavior.
Children who persistently ruin the play of other children must be banished; do not try to induce guilt, but focus on missed pleasures. Russell quotes at length Madame Montessori, who relies on the behavior of the other children to provide a model for naughty children. The miscreants themselves, isolated but comfortable and able to see all the proceedings, are addressed almost as if they are ill, while the others are treated as quasi-adults. Peer opinion is against the badly behaving student. Don’t punish a child with schoolwork which is meant to be something he enjoys and profits from, for he will cease to see its value.
Praise and blame are part of the requisite incentive structure, but they have to be used sparingly – especially blame. Don’t compare one child with another in distributing praise and blame, and don’t offer praise for what should be quotidian accomplishments. “All through education, any unusually good piece of work should be praised [p. 173].”
Boys have a seemingly natural tendency towards treating animals with cruelty, but don’t wait until it happens, and then treat the boy with cruelty. Rather, promote a respect for life, and don’t even let a child see you kill a dangerous pest. Mild unkindness of an older towards a younger child should be met with an equivalent unkindness from the adult towards the older child – with an explanation that he should recognize that his hurt feelings are paralleled by those in the younger, mistreated child. General maxims have little impact on the young: “All moral instruction must be immediate and concrete… [p. 174].”
Serious cruelty by older children must be met with isolation, for the safety of others. The miscreant should be viewed Montessori-like, almost as if he were unwell – not as if he were evil. “He should be made to feel that a great misfortune had befallen him in the shape of an impulse to cruelty, and that his elders were endeavouring to shield him from a similar misfortune in the future [p. 175].”
Physical punishment can play no positive role, and inculcates the belief that authority is rightly maintained by force. It undermines open, pleasant relations between children and adults. “To win the genuine affection of children is a joy as great as any that life has to offer [p. 176].” Commands to love your parents as a duty, in an environment of physical punishment, are self-defeating. Fortunately, more enlightened views towards the relationships between parents and adults are taking hold, and it would be well if they could spread to other arenas of human interaction.
Tradition calls for chastisement of children, but the extremes of yesteryear have fallen out of favor, “even in Tennessee [p. 167].” Sharp reproof has a role to play in education, but severe punishment does not; severity should peak at the “natural spontaneous expression of indignation [p. 167].”
After the blandishments of reason have failed, Russell and his wife employ a sort of time out system; their son can rejoin them when he is good, and he understands that to return is to commit to proper behavior. “I believe that reasonable parents create reasonable children [168].” Let the small risks go, though the result will be occasional bruises and cuts – these harms will convince children of the necessity underlying parental prohibition of extremely risky behavior.
Children who persistently ruin the play of other children must be banished; do not try to induce guilt, but focus on missed pleasures. Russell quotes at length Madame Montessori, who relies on the behavior of the other children to provide a model for naughty children. The miscreants themselves, isolated but comfortable and able to see all the proceedings, are addressed almost as if they are ill, while the others are treated as quasi-adults. Peer opinion is against the badly behaving student. Don’t punish a child with schoolwork which is meant to be something he enjoys and profits from, for he will cease to see its value.
Praise and blame are part of the requisite incentive structure, but they have to be used sparingly – especially blame. Don’t compare one child with another in distributing praise and blame, and don’t offer praise for what should be quotidian accomplishments. “All through education, any unusually good piece of work should be praised [p. 173].”
Boys have a seemingly natural tendency towards treating animals with cruelty, but don’t wait until it happens, and then treat the boy with cruelty. Rather, promote a respect for life, and don’t even let a child see you kill a dangerous pest. Mild unkindness of an older towards a younger child should be met with an equivalent unkindness from the adult towards the older child – with an explanation that he should recognize that his hurt feelings are paralleled by those in the younger, mistreated child. General maxims have little impact on the young: “All moral instruction must be immediate and concrete… [p. 174].”
Serious cruelty by older children must be met with isolation, for the safety of others. The miscreant should be viewed Montessori-like, almost as if he were unwell – not as if he were evil. “He should be made to feel that a great misfortune had befallen him in the shape of an impulse to cruelty, and that his elders were endeavouring to shield him from a similar misfortune in the future [p. 175].”
Physical punishment can play no positive role, and inculcates the belief that authority is rightly maintained by force. It undermines open, pleasant relations between children and adults. “To win the genuine affection of children is a joy as great as any that life has to offer [p. 176].” Commands to love your parents as a duty, in an environment of physical punishment, are self-defeating. Fortunately, more enlightened views towards the relationships between parents and adults are taking hold, and it would be well if they could spread to other arenas of human interaction.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter VIII
Chapter VIII (pages 157-165), “Truthfulness”
Truthfulness, both inward and outward, is of prime importance, with the inward variety, an aversion to self-deceit, paramount. Appropriate behavior sometimes (though rarely) requires an outward lie, and trying to disguise that fact itself leads to self-deceit. Harmful uses of power are the occasions most likely to merit untruthful responses.
Children typically lie out of fear, so a fearless child will not develop a habit of lying. They can learn to lie through adult example, or by seeing that truths told to adults can be dangerous. Small children can tell unintentional untruths through their faulty memory and misunderstanding of time, and their confusion of fantasy and reality. “When a child does lie [intentionally], parents should take themselves to task rather than him; they should deal with it by removing its causes, and by explaining gently and reasonably why it is better not to lie [p. 160].” If your child sees that you lie, your moral authority is instantly undermined. It is desirable not to assume an air of infallibility with children, who will see through it.
One way parents lie to children – to the detriment of the children – is to threaten punishments without intending to follow through on them. Don’t be insistent except when necessary, but when necessary, insist, knowing that it is likely you will have to follow through with the threatened punishment. Children quickly learn that your threats are credible, and then you won’t be called upon to follow through.
“Lies about sex are sanctioned by time-honoured usage [p. 163].” Russell is opposed to such lies, but will deal with them in a later chapter.
Answer truthfully the innumerable questions children ask, even about sensitive topics like religion and death. Err on the side of telling them more than they can understand rather than less – in this manner, their curiosity will be aroused, they will seek to learn more. Your unswerving devotion to truthful answers will be rewarded with the child’s trust.
Since the world is addicted to humbug, an insistence upon truth will lead a child to hold in contempt what generally are considered to be respectable things. Truth does not smooth one’s progress through a fallen world; rather, it can be personally and financially costly. But better to live (and even fail) with self-respect and candor than to “succeed by the arts of the slave [p. 165].”
Truthfulness, both inward and outward, is of prime importance, with the inward variety, an aversion to self-deceit, paramount. Appropriate behavior sometimes (though rarely) requires an outward lie, and trying to disguise that fact itself leads to self-deceit. Harmful uses of power are the occasions most likely to merit untruthful responses.
Children typically lie out of fear, so a fearless child will not develop a habit of lying. They can learn to lie through adult example, or by seeing that truths told to adults can be dangerous. Small children can tell unintentional untruths through their faulty memory and misunderstanding of time, and their confusion of fantasy and reality. “When a child does lie [intentionally], parents should take themselves to task rather than him; they should deal with it by removing its causes, and by explaining gently and reasonably why it is better not to lie [p. 160].” If your child sees that you lie, your moral authority is instantly undermined. It is desirable not to assume an air of infallibility with children, who will see through it.
One way parents lie to children – to the detriment of the children – is to threaten punishments without intending to follow through on them. Don’t be insistent except when necessary, but when necessary, insist, knowing that it is likely you will have to follow through with the threatened punishment. Children quickly learn that your threats are credible, and then you won’t be called upon to follow through.
“Lies about sex are sanctioned by time-honoured usage [p. 163].” Russell is opposed to such lies, but will deal with them in a later chapter.
Answer truthfully the innumerable questions children ask, even about sensitive topics like religion and death. Err on the side of telling them more than they can understand rather than less – in this manner, their curiosity will be aroused, they will seek to learn more. Your unswerving devotion to truthful answers will be rewarded with the child’s trust.
Since the world is addicted to humbug, an insistence upon truth will lead a child to hold in contempt what generally are considered to be respectable things. Truth does not smooth one’s progress through a fallen world; rather, it can be personally and financially costly. But better to live (and even fail) with self-respect and candor than to “succeed by the arts of the slave [p. 165].”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter VII
Chapter VII (pages 147-156), “Selfishness and Property”
It is natural for humans to be selfish, and we can’t just wish that it were otherwise. “A human ego, like a gas, will always expand unless restrained by external pressure [p. 147].” But the external pressure can be internalized, by instilling the idea of justice within a child’s mind. Justice, and not self-sacrifice, should be the ruling principle, as self-sacrifice can lead to unjustified feelings of sin and be taken to excessive extremes. Not everyone simultaneously can engage in self-sacrifice, so it cannot be a proper code of conduct. When people see that the principle of self-sacrifice is flawed, they can lose the virtue that it was meant to instill. Justice does not suffer from a similar defect.
An only child among adults can be taught manners and good behavior, but not justice, as his desires are so different from those of the grown-ups, and the tribunal so obviously biased, that justice does not seem to be part of the equation: “the real education in justice can only come where there are other children [p. 149].” Parents of only children, therefore, must endeavor to put their offspring in the company of other children, even at considerable sacrifice. Nursery schools are a boon to this process.
Russell continues under the assumption that there are at least two children about – and they are children of similar ages. They quickly see the justice in taking turns, when they all desire the same thing but only one at a time can be accommodated. Be quite impartial, parents, even if you have a favorite child!
Property is a tricky area of education. It is best if people tie their happiness to creativity, and not to defending possessions. But belief in property rights runs strong, and ownership helps to spur respect for the property of others. “Especially useful is property in anything that the child has made himself; if this is not permitted, his constructive impulses are checked [p. 153].” Some toys should be private property, and others, such as a rocking horse, communal property – though sharing of personal toys should be encouraged and in some cases required. A toy broken out of negligence should not immediately be replaced, at least if the child is older than two: “it is just as well that the loss is felt for a while [p. 154].” Non-interference with the constructive play of other children should be inculcated, so that a sort of temporary property right, one that revolves through all the children, is enjoyed for toys that cannot be used by multiple kids simultaneously. Unkindness of an older child towards a younger one can be met with similar (though not severe) unkindness from a parent to the older child – along with an explanation for the unpleasantness.
To encourage reading, ownership of books – good literature, not pulp – should be permitted at an early age; the pulp that children desire can be common property. [Russell (p. 156) cites Lewis Carroll and Tanglewood Tales as examples of worthy children’s literature.]
Personal property should be deeded to children if that ownership leads to constructive behavior and attentive care. Children who are not starved of pleasures will be generous with their property; children with few pleasures will hoard the pleasurable objects they possess. “It is not through suffering that children learn virtue, but through happiness and health [p. 156].”
It is natural for humans to be selfish, and we can’t just wish that it were otherwise. “A human ego, like a gas, will always expand unless restrained by external pressure [p. 147].” But the external pressure can be internalized, by instilling the idea of justice within a child’s mind. Justice, and not self-sacrifice, should be the ruling principle, as self-sacrifice can lead to unjustified feelings of sin and be taken to excessive extremes. Not everyone simultaneously can engage in self-sacrifice, so it cannot be a proper code of conduct. When people see that the principle of self-sacrifice is flawed, they can lose the virtue that it was meant to instill. Justice does not suffer from a similar defect.
An only child among adults can be taught manners and good behavior, but not justice, as his desires are so different from those of the grown-ups, and the tribunal so obviously biased, that justice does not seem to be part of the equation: “the real education in justice can only come where there are other children [p. 149].” Parents of only children, therefore, must endeavor to put their offspring in the company of other children, even at considerable sacrifice. Nursery schools are a boon to this process.
Russell continues under the assumption that there are at least two children about – and they are children of similar ages. They quickly see the justice in taking turns, when they all desire the same thing but only one at a time can be accommodated. Be quite impartial, parents, even if you have a favorite child!
Property is a tricky area of education. It is best if people tie their happiness to creativity, and not to defending possessions. But belief in property rights runs strong, and ownership helps to spur respect for the property of others. “Especially useful is property in anything that the child has made himself; if this is not permitted, his constructive impulses are checked [p. 153].” Some toys should be private property, and others, such as a rocking horse, communal property – though sharing of personal toys should be encouraged and in some cases required. A toy broken out of negligence should not immediately be replaced, at least if the child is older than two: “it is just as well that the loss is felt for a while [p. 154].” Non-interference with the constructive play of other children should be inculcated, so that a sort of temporary property right, one that revolves through all the children, is enjoyed for toys that cannot be used by multiple kids simultaneously. Unkindness of an older child towards a younger one can be met with similar (though not severe) unkindness from a parent to the older child – along with an explanation for the unpleasantness.
To encourage reading, ownership of books – good literature, not pulp – should be permitted at an early age; the pulp that children desire can be common property. [Russell (p. 156) cites Lewis Carroll and Tanglewood Tales as examples of worthy children’s literature.]
Personal property should be deeded to children if that ownership leads to constructive behavior and attentive care. Children who are not starved of pleasures will be generous with their property; children with few pleasures will hoard the pleasurable objects they possess. “It is not through suffering that children learn virtue, but through happiness and health [p. 156].”
Friday, February 11, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter VI
Chapter VI (pages 136-146), “Constructiveness”
The natural instincts of children are rather formless, and can be channeled into either good or bad directions. The sculptor of virtuous character is skill of the appropriate type.
Everyone likes power, likes to have an impact – though we are less concerned with precisely what we impact. We enjoy more those accomplishments that involve a higher degree of difficulty. “What we can do easily no longer gives us a sense of power; it is the newly-acquired skill, or the skill about which we are doubtful, that gives us the thrill of success [p. 137].” As it is easier to destroy than to build, constructive action is more satisfying. But the ease of destruction makes it the first type of activity a child pursues. Eventually the child will want to have his own constructions preserved, lending the possibility of bringing home the point that he should respect the constructions of others. (Making a child the cultivator and steward of a corner of a garden similarly teaches respect for the flowers that bloom out of the diligence of other gardeners; a child with a pet develops reverence for animal life.) The incentive to build greater things inculcates patience and persistence.
Developing the interest in construction helps to overcome the initial instinct towards destruction. The English upper classes often receive education in continued destruction, such as in hunting. “They can make pheasants die and tenants suffer; when occasion arises, they can shoot a rhinoceros or a German [p. 140].” They aren’t naturally stupid – it is their education that makes them so. For adults, parenting often helps to instill the desire for construction, but as the upper classes outsource their parenting duties, they lose this opportunity to amend their own characters. People whose sense of constructive behavior has been nurtured through education are better at being affectionate parents, too.
Intellectual work comes in constructive and destructive varieties. Classical languages do not admit to change, so people learn only to criticize errors (while disliking people who make them). Science throws out old ideas and builds new ones. Education must aim at more than the avoidance of mistakes.
The education of older children should seek to imbue a sense of constructiveness for society, how to help the public move in a desirable direction. The reading of classics should be undertaken with a view of how the lessons can be applied today. The ability to be discerning in these matters depends upon one’s conception of the social system. There are three archetypes. Some people think of society as providing a static mold, into which human nature is poured. Others, more progressive, think of society as a machine, usually a machine whose goal is to maximize output. For these people, humans must be fitted to that end, but when messy human nature balks, the machinists revert to the mold approach, trying to force humanity into slots. Some people think of society as a tree, one whose health depends on nurturing and whose growth can occur in many different directions. Young people should be taught constructiveness with living matter – animals and plants – as well as with inert material. The respect that physics garnered tended to instill the machinist viewpoint; biology can provide the “tree” lens, except that the dominance of natural selection within biology is distracting. Russell wants to overcome natural selection for humans, “by eugenics, birth-control, and education [p. 146].” [Education and the Good Life, published in 1926, lies in the midst of Russell’s pro-eugenics phase; RBR ran across this before in Marriage and Morals, published in 1929.]
Despite its advantages, thinking of society as a tree has shortcomings, too: psychological constructiveness must be part of the conception. Education and the Good Life is aimed at showing how psychological constructiveness differs from machine-like constructiveness. A broader understanding of psychological constructiveness could help us develop outstanding individuals.
The natural instincts of children are rather formless, and can be channeled into either good or bad directions. The sculptor of virtuous character is skill of the appropriate type.
Everyone likes power, likes to have an impact – though we are less concerned with precisely what we impact. We enjoy more those accomplishments that involve a higher degree of difficulty. “What we can do easily no longer gives us a sense of power; it is the newly-acquired skill, or the skill about which we are doubtful, that gives us the thrill of success [p. 137].” As it is easier to destroy than to build, constructive action is more satisfying. But the ease of destruction makes it the first type of activity a child pursues. Eventually the child will want to have his own constructions preserved, lending the possibility of bringing home the point that he should respect the constructions of others. (Making a child the cultivator and steward of a corner of a garden similarly teaches respect for the flowers that bloom out of the diligence of other gardeners; a child with a pet develops reverence for animal life.) The incentive to build greater things inculcates patience and persistence.
Developing the interest in construction helps to overcome the initial instinct towards destruction. The English upper classes often receive education in continued destruction, such as in hunting. “They can make pheasants die and tenants suffer; when occasion arises, they can shoot a rhinoceros or a German [p. 140].” They aren’t naturally stupid – it is their education that makes them so. For adults, parenting often helps to instill the desire for construction, but as the upper classes outsource their parenting duties, they lose this opportunity to amend their own characters. People whose sense of constructive behavior has been nurtured through education are better at being affectionate parents, too.
Intellectual work comes in constructive and destructive varieties. Classical languages do not admit to change, so people learn only to criticize errors (while disliking people who make them). Science throws out old ideas and builds new ones. Education must aim at more than the avoidance of mistakes.
The education of older children should seek to imbue a sense of constructiveness for society, how to help the public move in a desirable direction. The reading of classics should be undertaken with a view of how the lessons can be applied today. The ability to be discerning in these matters depends upon one’s conception of the social system. There are three archetypes. Some people think of society as providing a static mold, into which human nature is poured. Others, more progressive, think of society as a machine, usually a machine whose goal is to maximize output. For these people, humans must be fitted to that end, but when messy human nature balks, the machinists revert to the mold approach, trying to force humanity into slots. Some people think of society as a tree, one whose health depends on nurturing and whose growth can occur in many different directions. Young people should be taught constructiveness with living matter – animals and plants – as well as with inert material. The respect that physics garnered tended to instill the machinist viewpoint; biology can provide the “tree” lens, except that the dominance of natural selection within biology is distracting. Russell wants to overcome natural selection for humans, “by eugenics, birth-control, and education [p. 146].” [Education and the Good Life, published in 1926, lies in the midst of Russell’s pro-eugenics phase; RBR ran across this before in Marriage and Morals, published in 1929.]
Despite its advantages, thinking of society as a tree has shortcomings, too: psychological constructiveness must be part of the conception. Education and the Good Life is aimed at showing how psychological constructiveness differs from machine-like constructiveness. A broader understanding of psychological constructiveness could help us develop outstanding individuals.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter V
Chapter V (pages 123-135), “Play and Fancy”
Young animals, including humans, love play; human children especially love play of the make-believe variety. Play is necessary for a happy childhood, even if amusement has no (other) instrumental value. But play seems to possess non-hedonic utility, too, by providing rehearsal for activities that later will have to be undertaken in actuality. Play is one means for children – who are weak relative to adults – to fantasize about having greater powers. Joy in play is like the joy that adults take from drama. Children don’t really believe that their fantasizing is real – nor should we be assiduous in pointing out the unreality. “I cannot sympathize with the ascetics of truth, any more than with ascetics of other kinds [pp. 127-128].”
Excessive daydreaming in adults is a fault if it serves as a substitute for taking actions that can fulfill dreams. But in children, this substitutability is not yet manifest, so fantasies co-exist with incentives to eventually realize them. “To kill fancy in childhood is to make a slave to what exists, a creature tethered to earth and therefore unable to create heaven [p. 129].”
Don’t despair if your child uses his fancy to create sadistic giants or revengeful pirates. The instinct for power that these fancies represent should be nurtured, not suppressed. The development of useful skills like scientific or artistic dexterity will be one way to pursue power, and will serve humankind. “Thus the secret of instruction, in so far as it bears upon character, is to give a man such kinds of skill as shall lead to his employing his instincts usefully [p. 130].”
Very young children engage in solitary play – they may be too undeveloped even to play with their older siblings. But as they age, competition becomes a predominant element in play. There is merit to the team sports that occupy such a large role in British upper-class education – though such merit typically is exaggerated. Games should neither be suppressed nor made a central component of the educational program.
Games in which the opponent is uncaring nature – as opposed to other humans – have much to recommend them. Sailing, driving, flying, experimenting – all of these are skills that usefully can be taught to children. They instill courage without encouraging brutality. The promotion of athletics, in contrast, seems to come at the cost of underemphasizing academics. “Great Britain is losing her industrial position, and will perhaps lose her empire, through stupidity, and through the fact that the authorities do not value or promote intelligence [p. 134].”
The esprit de corps built by games is considered a feature, not a bug, by those who want to employ such spirit to promote actions that they desire. It has the unfortunate property, however, of crowding out other motives for behavior, so that there is little encouragement for actions which are not competitive. “Nothing is done to promote constructiveness for its own sake, or to make people take an interest in doing their job efficiently even if no one is to be injured thereby [p. 135].”
Young animals, including humans, love play; human children especially love play of the make-believe variety. Play is necessary for a happy childhood, even if amusement has no (other) instrumental value. But play seems to possess non-hedonic utility, too, by providing rehearsal for activities that later will have to be undertaken in actuality. Play is one means for children – who are weak relative to adults – to fantasize about having greater powers. Joy in play is like the joy that adults take from drama. Children don’t really believe that their fantasizing is real – nor should we be assiduous in pointing out the unreality. “I cannot sympathize with the ascetics of truth, any more than with ascetics of other kinds [pp. 127-128].”
Excessive daydreaming in adults is a fault if it serves as a substitute for taking actions that can fulfill dreams. But in children, this substitutability is not yet manifest, so fantasies co-exist with incentives to eventually realize them. “To kill fancy in childhood is to make a slave to what exists, a creature tethered to earth and therefore unable to create heaven [p. 129].”
Don’t despair if your child uses his fancy to create sadistic giants or revengeful pirates. The instinct for power that these fancies represent should be nurtured, not suppressed. The development of useful skills like scientific or artistic dexterity will be one way to pursue power, and will serve humankind. “Thus the secret of instruction, in so far as it bears upon character, is to give a man such kinds of skill as shall lead to his employing his instincts usefully [p. 130].”
Very young children engage in solitary play – they may be too undeveloped even to play with their older siblings. But as they age, competition becomes a predominant element in play. There is merit to the team sports that occupy such a large role in British upper-class education – though such merit typically is exaggerated. Games should neither be suppressed nor made a central component of the educational program.
Games in which the opponent is uncaring nature – as opposed to other humans – have much to recommend them. Sailing, driving, flying, experimenting – all of these are skills that usefully can be taught to children. They instill courage without encouraging brutality. The promotion of athletics, in contrast, seems to come at the cost of underemphasizing academics. “Great Britain is losing her industrial position, and will perhaps lose her empire, through stupidity, and through the fact that the authorities do not value or promote intelligence [p. 134].”
The esprit de corps built by games is considered a feature, not a bug, by those who want to employ such spirit to promote actions that they desire. It has the unfortunate property, however, of crowding out other motives for behavior, so that there is little encouragement for actions which are not competitive. “Nothing is done to promote constructiveness for its own sake, or to make people take an interest in doing their job efficiently even if no one is to be injured thereby [p. 135].”
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Education and the Good Life, Chapter IV
Chapter IV (pages 101-122), “Fear”
“By the time the child is six years old, moral education ought to be nearly complete; that is to say, the further virtues which will be required in later years ought to be developed by the boy or girl spontaneously, as a result of good habits already existing and ambitions already stimulated [p. 101].” Healthy two-year olds are well poised for a happy existence, as their powers and freedom of movement increase. They show curiosity and take delight in all new sensations. They can develop new fears, however. Surely some of these fears are acquired from mimicking the fears of the adults they see; others, though, arise out of instinct, including (probably) the fear of some unfamiliar things. [Russell quotes at some length William Stern, the developer of the concept of IQ, on the innate fear of the unfamiliar.] Herds of cows or horses have such fears -- for example, of mechanical toys, as I (Russell) have witnessed firsthand. I (again, Russell) cured my son’s fears of quickly moving shadows and mechanical toys by demonstrating the mechanism that led to these phenomena. This curative process took longer when the feared object was a whoopee cushion. [OK, Russell describes the dreadful item as “a cushion which emitted a long melancholy whine after being sat upon or pressed [p. 107].”] All such fears should slowly be confronted and overcome.
Real dangers, such as falls from heights, should be explained rationally, but the adults should do so with calm reason, and not in a fearful vein. “A grown-up person in charge of a child should never feel fear [p. 109].” Russell describes his own rather uncompromising approach to getting his toddler son to no longer fear the (very cold!) sea, and relates (footnote, page 111) his own even less compromising education on that score. There is something to be said for forceful methods of education if they are employed to overcome irrational fears. The boy who succeeds will be happy and proud of his triumph. As children get older, it is other children (including older siblings) who teach physical courage – and girls need as strong a dose of courage as boys. Instilling the habit of acting with courage reduces the need to call on willpower.
Russell endorses the advice of Dr. Rivers on overcoming fear by acquiring skills to manipulate matter, such as learning to ride a bike. Developing a talent for managing a boat in poor weather, for instance, is a better way of engendering courage than are physical battles among children, even of the organized sports variety. Children, both boys and girls, should be taught to endure small harms without much ado.
Courage in the non-physical realm is more important than physical courage, but bodily bravery might be a pre-requisite for building the higher species of courage. Superstitions around eclipses or earthquakes, for instance, derive from fears of the mysterious. Acquainting children with the scientific explanation of some mysteries will allow them to generalize, to think that there also are non-superstitious explanations for mysteries that they still cannot understand. At that point, mysteries can spur exploration and study.
One mystery children are faced with at an early age is death, and eventually they understand that their parents’ deaths are inevitable, as is their own. Belief in an afterlife can ease the pain of such understanding. Nevertheless, parents whom themselves hold no such belief should not try to instill it in their children just for the sake of comfort: “no consideration on earth justifies a parent in telling lies to his child. It is best to explain that death is a sleep from which people do not wake [p. 119].” Nor should parents impart this information in a dramatic fashion. There is little to be said for anyone to get to brooding about death.
Children should be made comfortable around strangers, in part by not pressing manners too aggressively upon them. They will respond positively to manners when they are at an age where they can appreciate that parents (and others) have rights that must be respected: children have a knack for understanding justice.
Don’t show fear yourself if you would keep your child from being fearful. “Life is full of perils, but the wise man ignores those that are inevitable, and acts prudently but without emotion as regards those that can be avoided [p. 121].” Instill wide and strong interests so that your child does not later dwell upon the possibilities for ill fortune.
“By the time the child is six years old, moral education ought to be nearly complete; that is to say, the further virtues which will be required in later years ought to be developed by the boy or girl spontaneously, as a result of good habits already existing and ambitions already stimulated [p. 101].” Healthy two-year olds are well poised for a happy existence, as their powers and freedom of movement increase. They show curiosity and take delight in all new sensations. They can develop new fears, however. Surely some of these fears are acquired from mimicking the fears of the adults they see; others, though, arise out of instinct, including (probably) the fear of some unfamiliar things. [Russell quotes at some length William Stern, the developer of the concept of IQ, on the innate fear of the unfamiliar.] Herds of cows or horses have such fears -- for example, of mechanical toys, as I (Russell) have witnessed firsthand. I (again, Russell) cured my son’s fears of quickly moving shadows and mechanical toys by demonstrating the mechanism that led to these phenomena. This curative process took longer when the feared object was a whoopee cushion. [OK, Russell describes the dreadful item as “a cushion which emitted a long melancholy whine after being sat upon or pressed [p. 107].”] All such fears should slowly be confronted and overcome.
Real dangers, such as falls from heights, should be explained rationally, but the adults should do so with calm reason, and not in a fearful vein. “A grown-up person in charge of a child should never feel fear [p. 109].” Russell describes his own rather uncompromising approach to getting his toddler son to no longer fear the (very cold!) sea, and relates (footnote, page 111) his own even less compromising education on that score. There is something to be said for forceful methods of education if they are employed to overcome irrational fears. The boy who succeeds will be happy and proud of his triumph. As children get older, it is other children (including older siblings) who teach physical courage – and girls need as strong a dose of courage as boys. Instilling the habit of acting with courage reduces the need to call on willpower.
Russell endorses the advice of Dr. Rivers on overcoming fear by acquiring skills to manipulate matter, such as learning to ride a bike. Developing a talent for managing a boat in poor weather, for instance, is a better way of engendering courage than are physical battles among children, even of the organized sports variety. Children, both boys and girls, should be taught to endure small harms without much ado.
Courage in the non-physical realm is more important than physical courage, but bodily bravery might be a pre-requisite for building the higher species of courage. Superstitions around eclipses or earthquakes, for instance, derive from fears of the mysterious. Acquainting children with the scientific explanation of some mysteries will allow them to generalize, to think that there also are non-superstitious explanations for mysteries that they still cannot understand. At that point, mysteries can spur exploration and study.
One mystery children are faced with at an early age is death, and eventually they understand that their parents’ deaths are inevitable, as is their own. Belief in an afterlife can ease the pain of such understanding. Nevertheless, parents whom themselves hold no such belief should not try to instill it in their children just for the sake of comfort: “no consideration on earth justifies a parent in telling lies to his child. It is best to explain that death is a sleep from which people do not wake [p. 119].” Nor should parents impart this information in a dramatic fashion. There is little to be said for anyone to get to brooding about death.
Children should be made comfortable around strangers, in part by not pressing manners too aggressively upon them. They will respond positively to manners when they are at an age where they can appreciate that parents (and others) have rights that must be respected: children have a knack for understanding justice.
Don’t show fear yourself if you would keep your child from being fearful. “Life is full of perils, but the wise man ignores those that are inevitable, and acts prudently but without emotion as regards those that can be avoided [p. 121].” Instill wide and strong interests so that your child does not later dwell upon the possibilities for ill fortune.
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