Visual Education (Jan 1923-Dec 1924)

38 Visual Education ing. Like the boy in the Korean embassy, when Korea had an embassy, who bragged: "I know more than Confucius knew, for I know western civilization," this young man proves that he has touched that civilization on many sides. The educator nowadays — and she begins as a girl of about Joyce Kilmer's age — must make her children acquainted with the birds, the beasts, the insects, the minerals, the plants, the physical features of this world; with the denizens of the Milky Way and the family of the sun; with the distribution, the history, the qualities, the habits, the governments and the follies of mankind, and with their thoughts, their fancies and their inventions. To literature, science arid art, in all their branches, and to the religions of the world, he must be introduced; to all the occupations of men and women, as well as to the games wherewith we beguile our leisure. And still he must learn, as of yore, to read, to write and to cipher. The Three R's — Plus I had once on my board of education a dotard who had finished his education by graduating from Harvard College. When I applied for a medical inspector he responded: "I guess we'll confine ourselves to teaching reading, writing and arithmetic, and let the mammas call the doctor." Today the school doctors and the school nurses go their rounds oblivious of the fact that there ever lived one so "old-fogyish" as to protest against their obvious necessity. I heard the old song once again the other day, when the director of a museum offered docentry to an assistant superintendent of schools. "We will take your classes around during school hours if you like," said the director. "It would be pleasant," said the old-fashioned superintendent, "but it can't be done. We have to teach reading, writing and arithmetic, and protect our pupils constantly "WHEN KNIGHTS WERE BOLD" Here is the fearless knight who goes forth from the castle to rescue the maiden whom the ogre has captured and concealed. He is as large as a fair-sized doll. He has not the attraction of a movie star, but he has substance and duration. from well-meaning people who want to fill them with all sorts of extraneous knowledges." But the museum director knows that his knowledges are not extraneous, but fundamental — necessary, if reading and writing are to function valuably. The Case of the Castle Our museum budded from a library. It is the first step by which the library is returning to the three dimensions from which it was abstracted. This is what I mean : Once there were castles. They had moats, drawbridges, portcullises, halls for feasting, ladies' bowers, towers and dungeons. Lords lived in them, and ladies gay. Warriors went out from them, and returned with captives and spoils. And minstrels sang under their narrow windows. 1 hese castles were real. They were followed by multitudinous fictitious castles, wherein dwtlt ogres, giants and the like. Hence came Intrepidity on horse-back, and here Virtue triumphed over Vice. These things were sung and recited, and finally were committed to paper, then to print. They were multiplied and broadcast, in children's textbooks. Because the virtues signally embodied where and when the castles grew are just what the modern child needs to admire at certain stages of his growth, teachers want their pupils to read these stories. But today's children do not know the castle. They confront the sign, but know naught of the thing signified. If the book has an illustration, it is one, and it is meagre. Here enters the "picture collection." Out of the flotsam that flows through a public library, our librarian has caused to be preserved in folders, and mounted en cardboard, some 500,000 pictures. These have been roughly classified and alphabetically arranged. And they are constantly used, especially by the schools. The American child, who has never seen a castle, much less an ogre, is to be thrilled by the rescue of Innocence from Brutality by Courage. How make the words convey to him what they held when first recounted? I call up the lady in charge of the picture collection. "I want," I say, "to put a picture of a castle into the hands of a considerable number of children. What subjects shall I try?" "Castles," says she ; "and Chivalry, and European scenery, and Illustrated Fairy Tales; and European history; and Illustrators — and a lot like that." "How many children can you supply at once?" I ask. "Oh, from five hundred up," says she. Thus we began to retranslate the symbol into visual presentations of the things signified. Putting Meanings into Words One day a museum assistant came to me. "Here's a teacher,'' said she, "who wants a castle. I