 CHAPTER XVIII. Graphic language comprising dictation and reading contains articulate language and its complete mechanism, auditory channels, central channels, motor channels, and in the manner of development called forth by-by-method, it is based essentially on articulate language. Graphic language, therefore, may be considered from two points of view. A. That of the conquest of a new language of eminent social importance, which adds itself to the articulate language of natural man, and this is the cultural significance, which is commonly given to graphic language, which is therefore taught in the schools without any consideration of its relation to spoken language, but solely with the intention of offering to this social being a necessary instrument in his relations with his fellows. B. That of the relation between graphic and articulate language, and in this relation of an eventual possibility of utilizing the written language to perfect the spoken. A new consideration upon which I wish to insist and which gives to graphic language a physiological importance. Moreover, as spoken language is at the same time a natural function of man and an instrument which he utilizes for social ends, so written language may be considered in itself, in its formation, as an organic ensemble of new mechanisms which are established in the nervous system, and as an instrument which may be utilized for social ends. In short, it is a question of giving to written language not only a physiological importance, but also a period of development independent of the high functions which it is destined to perform later. It seems to me that graphic language bristles with difficulties in its beginning, not only because it has heretofore been taught by irrational methods, but because we have tried to make it perform as soon it has been acquired the high function of teaching the written language which has been fixed by centuries of perfecting and a civilized people. Think how irrational have been the methods we have used. We have analyzed the graphic signs rather than the physiological acts necessary to produce the alphabetical signs, and this without considering that any graphic sign is difficult to achieve because the visual representation of the signs have no hereditary connection with the motor representations necessary for producing them. As, for example, the auditory representations of the word have with the motor mechanism of the articulate language. It is, therefore, always a difficult thing to provoke a stimulative motor action unless we have already established the movement before the visual representation of the sign is made. It is a difficult thing to arouse an activity that shall produce a motion unless that motion shall have been previously established by practice and by the power of habit. Thus, for example, the analysis of writing into little straight lines and curves has brought us to present to the child a sign without significance which, therefore, does not interest him and whose representation is incapable of determining a spontaneous motor impulse. The Artificial Act constituted, therefore, an effort of the will which resulted for the child in rapid exhaustion exhibited in the form of boredom and suffering. To this effort was out of the effort of constituting synchronously the muscular associations coordinating the movements necessary to the holding and manipulating the instrument of writing. All sorts of depressing feelings accompanied such efforts and conduced to the production of imperfect and erroneous signs which the teachers had to correct, discouraging the child still more with the constant criticism of the error and of the imperfection of the signs traced. Thus, while the child was urged to make an effort, the teacher depressed rather than revived his psychical forces. Although such a mistaken course was followed, the graphic language, so painfully learned, was nevertheless to be immediately utilized for social ends, and, still imperfect and immature, was made to do service in the syntactical construction of the language and in the ideal expression of the superior psychic centers. One must remember that in nature the spoken language is formed gradually, and it is already established in words when the superior psychic centers use these words in what Kusmal calls dictorium in the syntactical grammatical formation of language which is necessary to the expression of complex ideas, that is, in the language of the logical mind. In short, the mechanism of language is a necessary antecedent of the higher psychic activities which are to utilize it. There are therefore two periods in the development of language. A lower one which prepares the nervous channel and the central mechanisms which are to put the sensory channels in relation with motor channels, and a higher one determined by the higher psychic activities which are exteriorized by means of the preformed mechanisms of language. Thus, for example, in the scheme which Kusmal gives on the mechanism of articulate language, we must first of all distinguish a sort of cerebral, dyostaltic arc representing the pure mechanism of the word which is established in the first formation of the spoken language. Let E be the ear and T the motor organs of speech taken as a whole and here represented by the tongue. A, the auditory center of speech and M, the motor center. The channels E, A and M, T are peripheral channels. The former centripetal and the latter centrifugal and the channel A, M is the inter-central channel of association. The center A in which reside the auditive images of words may begin subdivided into three as in the following scheme. It is sound, S-O, syllables, S-Y, and words, W. That partial centers for sounds and syllables can really be formed. The pathology of language seems to establish for in some forms of centrosensory dysphagia, the patients can pronounce only sounds or at most sounds and syllables. Small children, too, are at the beginning particularly sensitive to simple sounds of language with which indeed, and especially with S, their mothers caress them and attract their attention. While later the child is sensitive to syllables with which also the mother caresses him saying, ba-ba, punf, tuf. Finally, it is the simple word, dyssyllabic, in most cases, which attracts the child's attention. But for the motor centers, also, the same thing may be repeated. The child utters at the beginning simple or double sounds, as for example, ble, ble, che, an expression which the mother greets with joy. Then distinctly, syllabic sounds begin to manifest themselves in the child, ga-ba. And finally, the dyssyllabic word, usually, labial, mama. We say that the spoken language begins with the child when the word pronounced by him signifies an idea. When, for example, saying his mother and recognizing her, he says, mama. And seeing a dog says, tete. And wishing to eat says, papa. Thus we consider language begun when it is established in relation to perception, while the language itself is still in its psychomotor mechagnism, perfectly rudimentary. That is, when above the diastolic arc, where the mechanical formation of the language is still unconscious, the recognition of the word takes place. That is, the word is perceived and associated with the object which it represents. Language is considered to have begun. On this level, later, language continues the process of perfecting and proportion, as the hearing perceives better the component sounds of the words and the psychomotor channels become more permeable to articulation. This is the first stage of spoken language, which has its own beginning and its own development, leading through the perceptions to the perfecting of the primordial mechanism of the language itself. And at this stage precisely is established what we call articulate language, which will later be the means which the adult will have at his disposal to express his own thoughts, and which the adult will have great difficulty in perfecting or correcting when it has once been established. In fact, a high stage of culture sometimes accompanies an imperfect articulate language, which prevents the aesthetic expression of one's thoughts. The development of articulate language takes place in the period between the age of two and the age of seven. The age of perceptions in which the attention of the child is spontaneously turned towards external objects, and the memory is particularly tenacious. It is the age also of motility in which all the psychomotor channels are becoming permeable and the muscular mechanisms establish themselves. In this period of life by the mysterious bond between the auditory channel and the motor channel of the spoken language, it would seem that the auditory perceptions have the direct power of provoking the complicated movements of articulate speech, which develop instinctively after such stimuli as if awaking from the slumber of heredity. It is well known that it is only at this age that it is possible to acquire all the characteristic modulations of a language which it would be vain to attempt to establish later. The mother tongue alone is well pronounced because it was established in the period of childhood, and the adult who learns to speak a new language must bring to it the imperfections characteristic of the foreigner's speech. Only children who under the age of seven years learn several languages at the same time can receive and reproduce all the characteristic mannerisms of accent and pronunciation. Thus also the defects acquired in childhood such as dialectic defects or those established by bad habits become indelible in the adult. What develops later, the superior language, the dictorium, no longer has its origin in the mechanism of language but in the intellectual development which makes use of the mechanical language. As the articulate language develops by the exercise of its mechanism and is enriched by perception, the dictorium develops with syntax and is enriched by intellectual culture. Going back to the scheme of language we see that above the arc which defines the lower language is established the dictorium D from which now come the motor impulses of speech which is established as spoken language fit to manifest the ideation of the intelligent man. This language will be enriched little by little by intellectual culture and perfected by the grammatical study of syntax. Hitherto as a result of a preconception it has been believed that written language should enter only into the development of the dictorium as the suitable means for the acquisition of culture and of permitting grammatical analysis and construction of the language. Since spoken words have wings, it has been admitted that intellectual culture could only proceed by the aid of a language which was stable, objective, and capable of being analyzed such as the graphic language. But why, when we acknowledge the graphic language as a precious, nay, indispensable instrument of intellectual education for the reason that it fixes the ideas of men and permits of their analysis and of their assimilation in books where they remain indelibly written as an ineffacible memory of words which are therefore always present and by which we can analyze the syntactical structure of the language. Why shall we not acknowledge that it is useful in the more humble task of fixing the words which represent perception and of analyzing their component sounds? Compelled by a pedagogical prejudice, we are unable to separate the idea of a graphic language from that of a function which Hitherto for, we have made it exclusively perform. It seems to us that by teaching such a language to children still in the age of simple perceptions and of motility we are committing a serious psychological and pedagogical error. But let us rid ourselves of this prejudice and consider the graphic language in itself, reconstructing its psychophysiological mechanism. It is far more simple than the psychophysiological mechanism of the articulate language and is far more directly accessible to education. Writing especially is surprisingly simple. For let us consider dictated writing. We have a perfect parallel with spoken language since a motor action must correspond with heard speech. Here there does not exist, to be sure, the mysterious hereditary relations between the heard speech and the articulate speech. But the movements of writing are far simpler than those necessary to the spoken word and are performed by large muscles, all external, upon which we can directly act rendering the motor channels permeable and establishing psychomuscular mechanisms. This indeed is what is done by my method which prepares the movements directly so that the psychomotor impulse of the heard speech finds the motor channels already established and manifested in the act of writing, like an explosion. The real difficulty is in the interpretation of the graphic signs, but we must remember that we are in the age of perceptions where the sensations in the memory as well as the primitive associations are involved precisely in the characteristic progress of natural development. Moreover, our children are already prepared by various exercises of the senses and by methodical construction of ideas and mental associations to perceive the graphic signs. Something like a patrimony of perceptive ideas offers material to the language in the process of development. The child who recognizes a triangle and calls it a triangle can recognize a letter s and denominate it by the sound s. This is obvious. Let us not talk of premature teaching, reading ourselves the prejudices. Let us appeal to experience which shows that in reality children proceed without effort, nay, rather with evident manifestations of pleasure to the recognition of graphic signs presented as objects. And with this premise let us consider the relations between the mechanisms of the two languages. The child of three or four has already long begun his articulate language according to our scheme. But he finds himself in the period in which the mechanism of articulate language is being perfected, a period contemporary with that in which he is acquiring a content of language along with the patrimony of perception. The child has perhaps not heard perfectly in all their component parts the words which he pronounces. And if he has heard them perfectly they may have been pronounced badly and consequently have left an erroneous auditory perception. It would be well that the child by exercising the motor channels of articulate language should establish exactly the movements necessary to a perfect articulation before the age of easy motor adaptations is passed. And by the fixation of erroneous mechanisms the defects become incorrigible. To this end the analysis of speech is necessary. As when we wish to perfect the language we first start children at composition and then pass to grammatical study. And when we wish to perfect the style we first teach to write grammatically and then come to the analysis of style. So when we wish to perfect the speech it is first necessary that the speech exist and then it is proper to proceed to its analysis. When therefore the child speaks but before the completion of the development of speech which renders it fixed in mechanisms already established the speech should be analyzed with a view to perfecting it. Now as grammar and rhetoric are not possible with the spoken language but demand recourse to the written language which keeps ever before the eye of the discourse to be analyzed so it is with speech. The analysis of the transient is impossible. The language must be materialized and made stable. Hence the necessity of the written word or the word represented by graphic signs. In the third stage of my method for writing, that is composition of speech is included the analysis of the word not only into signs but into the component sounds the signs representing its translation. The child, that is divides the heard word which he perceives integrally as a word knowing also its meanings into sounds and syllables. Let me call attention to the following diagram which represents the interrelation of the two mechanisms for writing and for articulate speech. The peripheric channels are indicated by heavy lines the central channels of association by dotted lines those referring to association in relation to the development of the heard speech by light lines. E, ear so auditory center of sounds SY auditory center of syllables W center of word M, motor center of articulate speech T, external organs of articulate speech N, tongue H, external organs of writing hand MC, motor center of writing VC, visual center of graphic signs and V, organ of vision whereas in the development of spoken language the sound composing the word might be imperfectly perceived here in the teaching of the graphic sign corresponding to the sound which teaching consists in presenting to the child a sandpaper letter naming it distinctly and making the child see it and touch it not only is the perception of the heard sound clearly fixed separately and clearly but this perception is associated with two others the central motor perception and the central visual perception of the written sign the triangle VC MC V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V V They have learned through the rhythmic exercises on the line to walk with perfect freedom and balance. They know how to control and direct their own movements, how to make the silence, how to move various objects without dropping or breaking them and without making a noise. Sense exercises. In this stage, repeat all the sense exercises. In addition, we introduce the recognition of musical notes by the help of the series of Duplicate Bells. Exercises related to writing. Design. The child passes to the plain geometric insets in metal. He has already coordinated the movements necessary to follow the contours. Here, he no longer follows them with his finger, but with a pencil, leaving the double sign upon a sheet of paper. Then, he fills in the figures with colored pencils, holding the pencil as he will later hold the pen in writing. Contemporaneously, the child is taught to recognize and touch some of the letters of the alphabet made in sandpaper. Exercises in arithmetic. At this point, repeating the sense exercises, we present the long stare with a different aim from that with which it has been used up to the present time. We have the child count the different pieces according to the blue and red sections beginning with the rod consisting of one section and continuing through that composed of ten sections. We continue such exercises and give other more complicated ones. In design, we pass from the outlines of the geometric insets to such outline figures as the practice of four years has established and which will be published as models in design. These have an educational importance and represent in their content and in their gradations one of the most carefully studied details of the method. They serve as a means for the continuation of the sense education and help the child to observe his surroundings. They thus add to his intellectual refinement and, as regards writing, they prepare for the high and low strokes. After such practice, it will be easy for the child to make high or low letters and this will do away with the ruled notebooks such as are used in Italy in the various elementary classes. In the acquiring of the use of written language, we go as far as the knowledge of the letters of the alphabet and of composition with the movable alphabet. In arithmetic, as far as the knowledge of the figures, the child places the corresponding figures beside the number of blue and red sections on each rod of the long stair. The children now take the exercise with the wooden pegs. Also, the game which consists in placing under the figures on the table a corresponding number of colored counters. These are arranged in columns of twos, thus making the question of odd and even numbers clear. This arrangement is taken from Sega. Fifth grade. We continue the preceding exercises. We begin more complicated rhythmic exercises. In design, we begin. A. The use of watercolors. B. Free drawing from nature. Flowers, etc. Composition of words and phrases with the movable alphabet. A. Spontaneous writing of words and phrases. B. Reading from slips prepared by the directors. We continue the arithmetical operations which we began with the long stair. The children at this stage present most interesting differences of development. They fairly run toward instruction and order their intellectual growth in a way that is remarkable. This joyous growth is what we so rejoice in and we watch in these children, humanity, growing in the spirit according to its own deep laws. And only he who experiments can say how great may be the harvest from the sowing of such seed. End of Chapter 20. Sequence of exercises. Chapter 21. General Review of Discipline. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Montessori Method. By Maria Montessori. Translated by Anne E. George. Chapter 21. The accumulated experience we have had since the publication of the Italian version has repeatedly proved to us that in our classes of little children, numbering 40 and even 50, the discipline is much better than in ordinary schools. For this reason, I have thought that an analysis of the discipline obtained by our method, which is based upon liberty, would interest my American readers. Whoever visits a well-kept school, such as, for instance, the one in Rome directed by my pupil Anna Matturoni, is struck by the discipline of the children. There are 40 little beings from 3 to 7 years old, each one intent on his own work. One is going through one of the exercises for the senses. One is doing an arithmetical exercise. One is handling the letters. One is drawing. One is fastening and unfastening the pieces of cloth on one of our little wooden frames. Still another is dusting. Some are seated at the tables. Some on rugs on the floor. There are muffled sounds of objects lightly moved about of children tiptoeing. Once in a while comes a cry of joy only partly repressed. Teacher, teacher, an eager call, look, see what I've done. But as a rule, there is entire absorption in the work at hand. Teacher moves quietly about, goes to any child who calls her, supervising operations in such a way that anyone who needs her finds her at his elbow, and whoever does not need her is not reminded of her existence. Sometimes hours go by without a word. They seem little men as they were called by some visitors to the children's house, or as another suggested, judges in deliberation. In the midst of such intense interest in work, it never happens that quarrels arise over the possession of an object. If one accomplishes something especially fine, his achievement is a source of admiration and joy to others. No heart suffers from another's wealth, but the triumph of one is a delight to all. Very often he finds ready imitators. They all seem happy and satisfied to do what they can without feeling jealous of the deeds of others. The little fellow of three works peaceably beside the boy of seven, just as he is satisfied with his own height and does not envy the older boy's stature. Everything is growing in the most profound peace. If the teacher wishes the whole assembly to do something, for instance, leave the work which interests them so much, all she needs to do is to speak a word in a low tone or make a gesture, and they are all attention. They look toward her with eagerness, anxious to know how to obey. Many visitors have seen the teacher write orders on the blackboard which were obeyed joyously by the children. Not only the teachers, but anyone who asks the pupils to do something is astonished to see them obey in the minutest detail and with obliging cheerfulness. Often a visitor wishes to hear how a child, now painting, can sing. The child leaves his painting to be obliging, but the instant his courteous action is completed he returns to his interrupted work. Sometimes the smaller children finish their work before they obey. A very surprising result of this discipline came to our notice during the examinations of the teachers who had followed my course of lectures. These examinations were practical, and accordingly groups of children were put at the disposition of the teachers being examined, who, according to the subject drawn by Lot, took the children through a given exercise. While the children were waiting their turn, they were allowed to do just as they pleased. They worked incessantly and returned to their undertakings as soon as the interruption caused by the examination was over. Every once in a while one of them came to show us a drawing made during the interval. Miss George of Chicago was present many times when this happened, and Madame Pujols, who founded the first children's house in Paris, was astonished at the patience, the perseverance, and the inexhaustible amiability of the children. One might think that such children had been severely repressed were it not for their lack of timidity, for their bright eyes, for their happy free aspect, for the cordiality of their invitations to look at their work, for the way in which they take visitors about and explain matters to them. These things make us feel that we are in the presence of the masters of the house, and the fervor with which they throw their arms around the teacher's knees, with which they pull her down to kiss her face, shows that their little hearts are free to expand as they will. Anyone who has watched them setting the table must have passed from one surprise to another. Little four-year-old waiters take the knives and forks and spoons and distribute them to the different places. They carry trays holding as many as five water glasses, and finally they go from table to table, carrying big terrines full of hot soup. Not a mistake is made, not a glass is broken, not a drop of soup is spilled. All during the meal unobtrusive little waiters watched the table assiduously, not a child empties his soup plate without being offered more. If he is ready for the next course, a waiter briskly carries off his soup plate. Not a child is forced to ask for more soup, or to announce that he has finished. Remembering the usual condition of four-year-old children who cry, who break whatever they touch, who need to be waited on, everyone is deeply moved by the sight I have just described, which evidently results from the development of energies latent in the depths of the human soul. I have often seen the spectators at this banquet of little ones move to tears. But such discipline could never be obtained by commands, by sermonisings. In short, through any of the disciplinary devices universally known, not only were the actions of those children set in an orderly condition, but their very lives were deepened and enlarged. In fact, such discipline is on the same plane with school exercises extraordinary for the age of the children. And it certainly does not depend upon the teacher, but upon a sort of miracle occurring in the inner life of each child. If we try to think of parallels in the life of adults, we are reminded of the phenomenon of conversion, of the superhuman heightening of the strength of martyrs and apostles, of the constancy of missionaries, of the obedience of monks. Nothing else in the world except such things is on a spiritual height equal to the discipline of the children's houses. To obtain such discipline it is quite useless to count on reprimands or spoken exhortations. Such means might perhaps at the beginning have an appearance of efficacy, but very soon the instant that real discipline appears, all of this falls miserably to the earth, an illusion confronted with reality. Night gives way to day. The first dawning of real discipline comes through work. At a given moment it happens that a child becomes keenly interested in a piece of work, showing it by the expression of his face, by his intense attention, by his perseverance in the same exercise. That child has set foot upon the road leading to discipline. Whatever be his undertaking, an exercise for the senses, an exercise in buttoning up or lacing together, or washing dishes, it is all one and the same. On our side we can have some influence upon the permanence of this phenomenon by means of repeated lessons of silence. The perfect immobility, the attention alert to catch the sound of the names whispered from a distance, then the carefully coordinated movements executed so as not to strike against chair or table, so as barely to touch the floor with the feet. All this is a most efficacious preparation for the task of setting in order the whole personality, the motor forces, and the psychical. Once the habit of work is formed, we must supervise it with scrupulous accuracy, graduating the exercises as experience has taught us. In our effort to establish discipline, we must rigorously apply the principles of the method. It is not to be obtained by words. No man learns self-discipline through hearing another man speak. The phenomenon of discipline needs as preparation a series of complete actions, such as are presupposed in the genuine application of a really educative method. Discipline is reached always by indirect means. The end is obtained, not by attacking the mistake and fighting it, but by developing activity in spontaneous work. This work cannot be arbitrarily offered, and it is precisely here that our method enters. It must be work which the human being instinctively desires to do, work towards which the latent tendencies of life naturally turn, or towards which the individual step-by-step ascends. Such is the work which sets the personality in order and opens wide before it infinite possibilities of growth. Take for instance the lack of control shown by a baby. It is fundamentally a lack of muscular discipline. The child is in a constant state of disorderly movement. He throws himself down, he makes queer gestures, he cries. What underlines all this is a latent tendency to seek that coordination of movement which will be established later. The baby is a man not yet sure of the movements of the various muscles of the body, not yet master of the organs of speech. He will eventually establish these various movements, but for the present he is abandoned to a period of experimentation full of mistakes and of fatiguing efforts toward a desirable end latent in his instinct, but not clear in his consciousness. To say to the baby, stand still as I do, brings no light into his darkness. Commands cannot aid in the process of bringing order into the complex psychomuscular system of individual and process of evolution. We are confused at this point by the example of the adult who through a wicked impulse prefers disorder, and who may, granted that he can, obey a sharp admonishment which turns his will in another direction towards that order which he recognizes and which it is within his capacity to achieve. In the case of the little child, it is a question of aiding the natural evolution of voluntary action. Hence it is necessary to teach all the coordinated movements, analyzing them as much as possible and developing them bit by bit. Thus, for instance, it is necessary to teach the child the various degrees of immobility leading to silence, with movements connected with rising from a chair and sitting down, with walking, with tiptoeing, with following a line drawn on the floor keeping an upright equilibrium. The child is taught to move objects about, to set them down more or less carefully, and finally the complex movements connected with dressing and undressing himself, analyzed on the lacing and buttoning frames at school. And for even each of these exercises, the different parts of the movement must be analyzed. Perfect immobility and the successive perfectioning of action is what takes the place of the customary command, be quiet, be still. It is not astonishing but very natural that the child by means of such exercises should acquire self-discipline so far as regards the lack of muscular discipline natural to his age. In short, he responds to nature because he is in action, but these actions being directed towards an end have no longer the appearance of disorder but of work. This is discipline which represents an end to be attained by means of a number of conquests. The child disciplined in this way is no longer the child he was at first, who knows how to be good passively, but he is an individual who has made himself better, who has overcome the usual limits of his age, who has made a great step forward, who has conquered his future in his present. He has therefore enlarged his dominion. He will not need to have someone always at hand to tell him vainly, confusing two opposing conceptions, be quiet, be good. The goodness he has conquered cannot be summed up by inertia. His goodness is now all made up of action. As a matter of fact, good people are those who advance towards the good, that good which is made up of their own self-development and of external acts of order and usefulness. In our efforts with the child, external acts are the means which stimulate internal development, and they again appear as its manifestation, the two elements being inextricably intertwined. Work develops the child spiritually, but the child with a fuller spiritual development works better, and his improved work delights him. Hence he continues to develop spiritually. Discipline is therefore not a fact, but a path. A path in following which the child grasps the abstract conception of goodness within an exactitude which is fairly scientific. But beyond everything else, he savors the supreme delights of that spiritual order which is attained indirectly through conquest directed towards determinant ends. In that long preparation, the child experiences joys, spiritual awakenings, and pleasures which form his inner treasure house, the treasure house in which he is steadily storing up the sweetness and strength which will be the sources of righteousness. In short, the child has not only learned to move about and to perform useful acts. He has acquired a special grace of action which makes his gestures more correct and attractive, and which beautifies his hands, and indeed his entire body, now so balanced and so sure of itself. A grace which refines the expression of his face and his serenely brilliant eyes, and which shows us that the flame of spiritual life has been lighted in another human being. It is obviously true that coordinated actions developed spontaneously, little by little, that is chosen and carried out in the exercises by the child himself, must call for less effort than the disorderly actions performed by the child who is left to his own devices. True rest for muscles, intended by nature for action, is in orderly action. Just as true rest for the lungs is the normal rhythm of respiration taken in pure air. To take action away from the muscles is to force them away from their natural motor impulse, and hence, besides tiring them, means forcing them into a state of degeneration. Just as the lungs forced into immobility would die instantly and the whole organism with them. It is therefore necessary to keep clearly in mind the fact that rest, for whatever naturally acts, lies in some specified form of action corresponding to its nature. To act in obedience to the hidden precepts of nature, that is rest, and in this special case since man is meant to be an intelligent creature, the more intelligent his acts are, the more he finds repose in them. When a child acts only in a disorderly, disconnected manner, his nervous force is under a great strain. While on the other hand, his nervous energy is positively increased and multiplied by intelligent actions which give him real satisfaction and a feeling of pride that he has overcome himself, that he finds himself in a world beyond the frontiers formerly set up as insurmountable, surrounded by the silent respect of the one who has guided him without making his presence felt. This multiplication of nervous energy represents a process which can be physiologically analyzed and which comes from the development of the organs by rational exercise, from better circulation of the blood, from the quickened activity of all the tissues, all factors favorable to the development of the body and guaranteeing physical health. The spirit aids the body in its growth. The heart, the nerves, and the muscles are helpful in their evolution by the activity of the spirit since the upward path for soul and body is one and the same. By analogy, it can be said of the intellectual development of the child that the mind of infancy, although characteristically disorderly, is also a means searching for its end, which goes through exhausting experiments left as it frequently is to its own resources and too often really persecuted. Once in our public park in Rome, the Pinzian Gardens, I saw a baby of about a year and a half, a beautiful smiling child who was working away trying to fill a little pail by shoveling gravel into it. Beside him was a smartly dressed nurse, evidently very fond of him, the sort of nurse who would consider that she gave the child the most affectionate and intelligent care. It was time to go home and the nurse was patiently exhorting the baby to leave his work and let her put him into the baby carriage. Seeing that her exhortations made no impression of the little fellow's firmness, she herself filled the pail with gravel and set pail and baby into the carriage with the fixed conviction that she had given him what he wanted. I was struck by the loud cries of the child and by the expression of protest against violence and injustice, which rode itself on his little face. What an accumulation of wrongs weighed down that nascent intelligence. The little boy did not wish to have the pail full of gravel. He wished to go through the motions necessary to fill it, thus satisfying a need of his vigorous organism. The child's unconscious aim was his own self-development, not the external fact of a pail full of little stones. The vivid attractions of the external world were only empty apparitions. The need of his life was a reality. As a matter of fact, if he had filled his pail, he would probably have emptied it out again in order to keep on filling it up until his inner self was satisfied. It was the feeling of working towards the satisfaction which, a few moments before, had made his face so rosy and smiling. Spiritual joy, exercise, and sunshine were the three rays of light ministering to his splendid life. The commonplace episode in the life of that child is a detail of what happens to all children, even the best and most cherished. They are not understood because the adult judges them by his own measure. He thinks that the child's wish is to obtain some tangible object lovingly helps him to do this, whereas the child as a role has for his unconscious desire his own self-development. Hence he despises everything already attained and yearns for that which is still to be sought for. For instance, he prefers the action of dressing himself to the state of being dressed, even finally dressed. He prefers the act of washing himself to the satisfaction of being clean. He prefers to make a little house for himself rather than merely to own it. His own self-development and almost his only pleasure. The self-development of the little baby up to the end of his first year consists to a large degree in taking in nutrition, but afterwards it consists in aiding the orderly establishment of the psychophysiological functions of his organism. That beautiful baby in the Pinzian Gardens is the symbol of this. He wished to coordinate his voluntary actions, to exercise his muscles by lifting, to train his eye to estimate distances, to exercise his intelligence by reasoning connected with his undertaking, to stimulate his willpower by deciding his own actions. Will she who loved him believing that his aim was to possess some pebbles made him wretched. A similar error is that which we repeat so frequently when we fancy that the desire of the student is to possess a piece of information. We aid him to grasp intellectually this detached piece of knowledge and preventing by this means his self-development we make him wretched. He is generally believed in schools that the way to attain satisfaction is to learn something, but by leaving the children in our schools in liberty we have been able with great clearness to follow them in their natural method of spontaneous self-development. To have learned something is for the child only a point of departure. When he has learned the meaning of an exercise then he begins to enjoy repeating it and he does repeat it in an infinite number of times. With the most evident satisfaction he who enjoys executing that act because by means of it he is developing his psychic activities. There results from the observation of this fact a criticism of what is done today in many schools. Often, for instance, when the pupils are questioned the teacher says to someone who is eager to answer No, not you, because you know it and puts her question especially to the pupils who she thinks are uncertain of the answer. Those who do not know are made to speak. Those who do know to be silent. This happens because of the general habit of considering the act of knowing something as final. And yet, how many times it happens to us an ordinary life to repeat the very thing we know best, the thing we care most for, the thing to which some living force in us responds. We love to sing musical phrases very familiar, hence enjoyed and become a part of the fabric of our lives. We love to repeat stories of things which please us, which we know very well, even though we are quite aware that we are saying nothing new. No matter how many times we repeat the Lord's Prayer, it is always new. No two persons could be more convinced of mutual love than sweethearts and yet they are the very ones who repeat endlessly that they love each other. But in order to repeat in this manner there must first exist the idea to be repeated. A mental grasp of the idea is indispensable to the beginning of repetition. The exercise which develops life consists in the repetition, not in the mere grasp of the idea. When a child is obtained to this stage of repeating an exercise, he is on the way to self-development and the external sign of this condition is his self-discipline. This phenomenon does not always occur. The same exercises are not repeated by children of all ages. In fact, repetition corresponds to a need. Here steps in the experimental method of education. It is necessary to offer those exercises which correspond to the need of development built by an organism. And if the child's age has carried him past a certain need, it is never possible to obtain in its fullness a development which missed its proper moment. Hence children grow up often fatally and irrevocably imperfectly developed. Another very interesting observation is that which relates to the length of time needed for the execution of actions. Children who are undertaking something for the first time are extremely slow. Their life is governed in this respect by laws especially different from ours. Little children accomplish slowly and perseveringly various complicated operations agreeable to them such as dressing, undressing, cleaning the room, washing themselves, setting the table, eating, etc. In all this they are extremely patient overcoming all the difficulties presented by an organism still in process of formation. But we, on the other hand, noticing that they are tiring themselves out or wasting time in accomplishing something which we would do in a moment and without the least effort put ourselves in the child's place and do it ourselves. Always with the same erroneous idea that the end to be obtained is the completion of the action. We dress and wash the child. We snatch out of his hands objects which he loves to handle. We pour the soup into his bowl. We feed him. We set the table for him. And after such services we consider him with that injustice always practiced by those who domineer over others even with benevolent intentions to be incapable and inept. We often speak of him as impatient simply because we are not patient enough to allow his actions to follow the laws of time differing from our own. We call him tyrannical exactly because we employ tyranny towards him. This stain, this false imputation this columny on childhood has become an integral part of the theories concerning childhood in reality so patient and gentle. The child like every strong creature fighting for the right to live rebels against whatever offends that occult impulse within him which is the voice of nature in which he ought to obey and he shows by violent actions by screaming and weeping that he has been overborn and forced away from his mission in life. He shows himself to be a rebel a revolutionist and iconoclast against those who do not understand him and who fancy that they are helping him are really pushing him backward in the highway of life. Thus even the adult who loves him rivets about his neck another columny confusing his defense of his molested life with a form of innate naughtiness characteristic of little children. What would become of us if we fell into the midst of a population of jugglers or of lightning change impersonators of the variety hall? What should we do if as we connect as we continue to act in our usual way we saw ourselves assailed by these sleight of hand performers hustled into our clothes fed so rapidly that we could scarcely swallow. If everything we tried to do was snatched from our hands and completed in a twinkling and we ourselves reduced to impotence and a humiliating inertia. Not knowing how it's to express our confusion we would defend ourselves with blows and yells from these mad men and they having only the best will in the world to serve us would call us haughty, and incapable of doing anything. We who know our own milieu would