THE

Educational Journal of Virginia.

Vol. XVIII.

Richmond, Va., March, 1887.

No. 3.

Sympathy as an Element of Power in the Teacher.

Carlyle's words of Sir Walter Scott have always had a charm for me, and frequent meditation upon them but increases this feeling. "And, then, with such a sunny current of true humor and humanity, a free, joyful sympathy with so many things; what of fire he had, all lying so beautifully latent, as radical latent heat, as fruitful internal warmth of life; a most robust, healthy man." "A free, joyful sympathy with so many things!" I like his use of the word sympathy in the sense which permits joy in it, and not the restricted sense of commiseration with others in grief.

Sympathy gives power over others, gives new interest in life through the wonderful insight which it permits into nature and humanity. Wherever it is found in a marked degree, there do we witness its unmeasured influence.

We scarcely need another to point out how essential it is to oratory. Who is it that moves men to action? Not the man of cool, clear intellect, who, being on the height, forgets that he was ever in the valley, and makes those in a lower intellectual plane intensely conscious of a separating distance. There may be a certain kind of admiration tendered him, but he will never be a leader. That can never be until through some subtle power he makes those whom he would lead conscious that he has thought something of their thought, felt something of their feeling, struggled and overcome the difficulties with which they are now contending. He must not only be possessed with the truth of what he teaches, but he must make his hearers feel that he believes that they can be led to accept the same truth and be moved by the same motive power. Look over the world's great preachers, either of this century or of earlier centuries, you will not find one who has exerted that wonderful heart power which men of the coolest intellect must admire, who has not possessed sympathy in an eminent degree. So true is this that there are those of whom we say that we do not admire its excess, while the truth is that there is in

them no excess, but they, seeing the power it gives, have counterfeited and exaggerated the original. Look over your favorite authors, those whom you would really love independent of any verdict of the world of taste in literary matters. Some of them come right into your heart of hearts to talk with you. The gentle Elia seems almost to take your hand, as it were, and sit beside you chatting until you look where he looks and see what he sees. Robert Burns loves you despite your frailties, which he so well knows, because they are of his own nature, until you have something of his deep, generous sympathy with humanity.

Instances might be multiplied, but it is needless, for we all know that the poet must "attune his ear to nature's harmonies" before he can set them to music; that one cannot interpret the heart of man except by the key which his own nature has given him; that he can only read the lessons from the life of the race by the experiences of his own life.

We talk about the "magnetism" of certain great political leaders; and this quality is deemed of such importance that in looking over available candidates, its possession is given considerable weight in determining the scales in favor of one man, and its absence stands seriously in the way of the nomination of another candidate. Now, the most certain element of this as yet not completely analyzed magnetism is sympathy. It, of course, is not the sympathy which comes from the special knowledge of each man's particular affairs, but the fellow-feeling of joy or sorrow that comes from a knowledge of the varied conditions of the race, and a heart touched by these conditions.

But if we look over every field of human labor we shall find no place where there is greater need for the potent influence of sympathy than in the school-room. Nor is there any time of the pupil's life of which we can affirm that the necessity for sympathy has ceased. It is almost the breath of intellectual life to the very little children. And if the teacher is so unfortunate as to have grown old in heart, she cannot accomplish the highest results in the primary department, even if she has a good deal of the wisdom which comes from maturity of intellect. The little ones have, many of them, come from homes where the mother's very existence has been so bound in theirs that she has had a laugh for their most childish sport, or a tear for even imaginary woes.

If the teacher is lacking in loving sympathy, the removal from home to the school-room will be too much like taking the tender

house-plant and placing it out in the cold winter air. On the other hand, if a child has come from one of the unhappy homes where children receive little care, our sympathy will be like the blessed sunshine to the plant which has scarcely felt its genial influence.

I think one makes a better teacher of the little ones by knowing something of dolls and having an appreciation of their beauty. It is not beneath your dignity to have some knowledge of boys' sports. At any rate, to rejoice at their success in harmless games and to feel with them in their defeat, will make them believe that you "really are of some account," and give them more confidence in your ability in other matters. Don't let them see that things which seem to them of great moment are of trivial import to you. The child's nature is to throw off grief, but while it lasts it is very sincere, and you must enter into the sorrow. Indeed, if you have a womanly heart this is not difficult for you. If you put your mind into such close sympathy with the little learner that you feel the effort he is making, by some subtle effect which I cannot fully explain, you carry him to at least a degree of success. Whereas if you repel him by fear, or are indifferent or pre-occupied, you lessen materially the chances of his success. Sympathy on the part of the instructor is more needed by some pupils than by others. I know little girls whose progress has been very marked, who owe much to the kind sympathy that they have received from their teachers; little girls whose natures are so sensitive that the lack of sympathy would make them draw back into themselves the very qualities of mind and heart which render them so attractive.

As the pupils grow a little older we must not let sympathy die out. I think it may be true that it is easier to cherish this feeling for the very little ones, and again for the oldest pupils; because out of sixty there are scarcely six of the six and seven-year-old pupils without something winning about them; and the older pupils are growing into something of intellectual companionship with us, where sympathy becomes easier. But if it is not easy to feel it towards the boy and girl of twelve, thirteen, and fourteen, there is special need why teachers should cultivate the feeling. The girls will be growing away from dolls and little dishes; we must have some influence in determining what they shall grow towards, and how can we have that unless we set our minds somewhat in accord with theirs. The boy is getting "too big" for many of his early sports, "too big" for his boyish costume; we must see to it that he does no grow too big" for his teacher. Such boys can be made the most loyal of friends if

only convinced that you are honestly interested in them and in their amusements; while their scorn for "a woman who smiles all the time and doesn't mean anything by it," is delightful in its genuineness. Again, their desire to get away from the teacher who wants to work them up to as high a standing as pupils in a corresponding grade, but in her heart of hearts admits that she "hates boys," is only equalled by the desire she would have to get away from them-if she did not get a good salary for staying. If you believe them very disagreeable animals at this age, they will try to realize your expectations, and I can not say but that I sympathize with them in the desire. This is a period of life when they have naturally a tendency towards adventure. You can enter into that feeling and lead them to the reading of works of some of the world's great travellers They have a taste for the daring, the heroic, and they can be led (I speak from experience) to the most eager devouring of history.

When the pupils are growing older a sympathy on the part of the teacher, which leads towards the taking of an interest in every matter of moment to the pupil, leads to a companionship perfectly consistent with discipline in the highest sense of that term. This companionship brings its own reward. Indeed, the freshness of young life with its faith and courage is to us the fountain of youth. College honors have more than once been laid by their winners at the feet of high-school teachers, because the sympathy which bound teacher and pupil together had been so perfect that separation did not, in any degree, weaken the sense that the rejoicing of the teacher-friend would be almost the echo of the victor's rejoicing.

In the darkest hour of loneliness, when the dread visitor's presence was still felt in the household, the faithful teacher has gone to her pupil, and the low-spoken "I knew you would come," has told the whole history of the relations that have existed.

Without at all weakening character, this sympathy will give the teacher a power over the minds and hearts of her pupils which will enable her to guide their intellectual and moral development.

But not alone in the school-room is sympathy an element of power in the teacher. Wherever teacher meets teacher to discuss questions connected with the interests of the schools, is its subtle influence felt. The county institute instructor who can make his audience feel that there is not a teacher there honestly trying to do his duty, however humble his position, with whom he does not sympathize in his endeavors and in his trials, can leave a thought in more than one mind which will result in action. And, after all, are we so very far

advanced that we can only reach our brothers and sisters by the finger-tips instead of with the helping hand?

If the intellect is growing stronger and the heart warmer to impart to others something of this strength, something of this warmth, is our most precious privilege.-Margaret W. Sutherland, in the Ohio Educational Monthly.

AN energetic teacher came to school with her arms laden with hazel boughs. "What are those for," I asked. "Oh! I thought the children would like to see the curious little seed pods and hear them snap," was the answer. "I thought the children would like to see." Are there not ever so many things your pupils would like to see that you have never thought of showing them? Do take something entirely new to the class to-morrow. For a few moments before the regular school work let the children look at and talk about this new thing.

A sandal wood fan interested the little folks in one school for a whole day. It was shown in the morning, and after a few facts had been discovered in regard to it the fan was laid in the teacher's desk. Pupils who did their writing and number work well were allowed to go to the desk, without special permission, and examine the novel object. Before school was dismissed every child had become acquainted with something hitherto unknown to him; and who shall say that his mental horizon was not enlarged? Scan the papers with a view of telling your school some interesting facts from that source.

A Number Lesson.

This is an exercise given to a class of twelve children doing second year work. All the facts in all the numbers from one to fifteen have been taught; the class have been drilled on these facts until they can answer with ease any question involving an operation within the limit of those numbers. The object of this lesson is to present the number fifteen and to teach the new facts-fifteen less one; fifteen less fourteen; one and fourteen; fourteen and one. The plan of the lesson is as follows: 1. Rapid questioning on drawing. 2. Teaching new facts with blocks. 3. Children show the new facts. 4. Problems