Recitation and Learning to Think

In the recitation the teacher comes into his closest contact with the pupil. In the recitation focus the possibilities of guiding children's activities, influencing their language habits, and directing their observations. In discussing the significance of the recitation as an instrumentality of education, we are accordingly bringing to a head the points considered in the last three chapters, rather than introducing a new topic. The method in which the recitation is carried on is a crucial test of a teacher's skill in diagnosing the intellectual state of his pupils and in supplying the conditions that will arouse serviceable mental responses: in short, of his art as a teacher.

During recitation, the teacher comes into closest contact with the pupil. Recitation brings together opportunities to guide children’s activities, influence their language habits, and direct their observations. So, by discussing recitation as a tool for education, we are bringing together the points considered in the last three chapters. We are not introducing a new topic. How a teacher conducts recitation is a crucial test of the teacher’s skill. It shows how well the teacher can assess pupils’ intellectual state and create conditions that prompt useful mental responses. In short, it tests the teacher’s art.

The use of the word recitation to designate the period of most intimate intellectual contact of teacher with pupil and pupil with pupil is a fateful fact. To re-cite is to cite again, to repeat, to tell over and over. If we were to call this period reiteration, the designation would hardly bring out more clearly than does the word recitation, the complete domination of instruction by rehearsing of secondhand information, by memorizing for the sake of producing correct replies at the proper time. Everything that is said in this chapter is insignificant in comparison with the primary truth that the recitation is a place and time for stimulating and directing reflection, and that reproducing memorized matter is only an incident—even though an indispensable incident—in the process of cultivating a thoughtful attitude.

It is telling that we call the period of closest intellectual contact between teacher and pupil, and among pupils, a recitation. To recite means to cite again, to repeat, to tell over and over. If we called this period reiteration, the name would hardly make one fact clearer than recitation does. Instruction is completely dominated by the repetition of secondhand information and by memorizing it to give correct answers at the proper time. Everything said in this chapter is insignificant compared with one basic truth. The recitation is a time and place for stimulating and guiding reflection. Reproducing memorized material is only one part of developing a thoughtful attitude, though an indispensable part.

But few attempts have been made to formulate a method, resting on general principles, of conducting a recitation. One of these is of great importance and has probably had more and better influence upon the "hearing of lessons" than all others put together; namely, the analysis by Herbart of a recitation into five successive steps. The steps are commonly known as "the formal steps of instruction." The underlying notion is that no matter how subjects vary in scope and detail there is one and only one best way of mastering them, since there is a single "general method" uniformly followed by the mind in effective attack upon any subject. Whether it be a first-grade child mastering the rudiments of number, a grammar-school pupil studying history, or a college student dealing with philology, in each case the first step is preparation, the second presentation, followed in turn by comparison and generalization, ending in the application of the generalizations to specific and new instances.

But few attempts have been made to develop a method for conducting a recitation based on general principles. One attempt is especially important. It has probably had more and better influence on the "hearing of lessons" than all the others combined. This was Herbart’s analysis of a recitation into five successive steps. These steps are commonly known as "the formal steps of instruction." The underlying idea is that subjects differ in scope and detail, but there is only one best way to master them. This is because the mind follows a single "general method" whenever it approaches a subject effectively. The method is the same for a first-grade child learning the basics of numbers, a grammar-school pupil studying history, or a college student studying philology. In each case, the first step is preparation, and the second is presentation. These are followed by comparison and generalization. The final step is applying the generalizations to specific, new examples.

By preparation is meant asking questions to remind pupils of familiar experiences of their own that will be useful in acquiring the new topic. What one already knows supplies the means with which one apprehends the unknown. Hence the process of learning the new will be made easier if related ideas in the pupil's mind are aroused to activity—are brought to the foreground of consciousness. When pupils take up the study of rivers, they are first questioned about streams or brooks with which they are already acquainted; if they have never seen any, they may be asked about water running in gutters. Somehow "apperceptive masses" are stirred that will assist in getting hold of the new subject. The step of preparation ends with statement of the aim of the lesson. Old knowledge having been made active, new material is then "presented" to the pupils. Pictures and relief models of rivers are shown; vivid oral descriptions are given; if possible, the children are taken to see an actual river. These two steps terminate the acquisition of particular facts.

Preparation means asking pupils questions that remind them of familiar experiences useful for learning the new topic. What people already know gives them the means to understand what they do not yet know. Learning something new therefore becomes easier when related ideas in a pupil’s mind are brought to the forefront of awareness. When pupils begin studying rivers, they are first asked about streams or brooks they already know. If they have never seen any, they may be asked about water running in gutters. In some way, "apperceptive masses" are stirred up to help pupils grasp the new subject. The preparation step ends with a statement of the lesson’s aim. Once existing knowledge has been brought to mind, new material is "presented" to the pupils. They are shown pictures and relief models of rivers and given vivid spoken descriptions. If possible, the children are taken to see an actual river. These two steps complete the gathering of particular facts.

The next two steps are directed toward getting a general principle or conception. The local river is compared with, perhaps, the Amazon, the St. Lawrence, the Rhine; by this comparison accidental and unessential features are eliminated and the river concept is formed: the elements involved in the river-meaning are gathered together and formulated. This done, the resulting principle is fixed in mind and is clarified by being applied to other streams, say to the Thames, the Po, the Connecticut.

The next two steps aim to develop a general principle or concept. The local river is compared with, perhaps, the Amazon, the St. Lawrence, and the Rhine. This comparison removes incidental and unessential features and forms the river concept. The elements that make up the meaning of “river” are brought together and stated clearly. The resulting principle is then fixed in the mind and clarified by applying it to other streams. These might include the Thames, the Po, and the Connecticut.

If we compare this account of the methods of instruction with our own analysis of a complete operation of thinking, we are struck by obvious resemblances. In our statement (compare Chapter Six) the "steps" are the occurrence of a problem or a puzzling phenomenon; then observation, inspection of facts, to locate and clear up the problem; then the formation of a hypothesis or the suggestion of a possible solution together with its elaboration by reasoning; then the testing of the elaborated idea by using it as a guide to new observations and experimentations. In each account, there is the sequence of (i) specific facts and events, (ii) ideas and reasonings, and (iii) application of their result to specific facts. In each case, the movement is inductive-deductive. We are struck also by one difference: the Herbartian method makes no reference to a difficulty, a discrepancy requiring explanation, as the origin and stimulus of the whole process. As a consequence, it often seems as if the Herbartian method deals with thought simply as an incident in the process of acquiring information, instead of treating the latter as an incident in the process of developing thought.

If we compare this account of teaching methods with our own analysis of a complete act of thinking, we notice clear similarities. In our account (see Chapter Six), the "steps" begin with a problem or a puzzling phenomenon. Next comes observation and examination of the facts to identify and clarify the problem. Then comes a hypothesis or possible solution, which is developed through reasoning. Finally, the developed idea is tested by using it to guide new observations and experiments. Both accounts follow the same sequence: (i) specific facts and events, (ii) ideas and reasoning, and (iii) application of the result to specific facts. In each case, the process moves from facts to ideas and back again. It is inductive-deductive. We also notice one difference. The Herbartian method does not refer to a difficulty, a discrepancy requiring explanation, as the starting point and stimulus for the whole process. As a result, the Herbartian method often seems to treat thought simply as a part of acquiring information. Our account, instead, treats the acquisition of information as a part of developing thought.

Before following up this comparison in more detail, we may raise the question whether the recitation should, in any case, follow a uniform prescribed series of steps—even if it be admitted that this series expresses the normal logical order. In reply, it may be said that just because the order is logical, it represents the survey of subject-matter made by one who already understands it, not the path of progress followed by a mind that is learning. The former may describe a uniform straight-way course, the latter must be a series of tacks, of zigzag movements back and forth. In short, the formal steps indicate the points that should be covered by the teacher in preparing to conduct a recitation, but should not prescribe the actual course of teaching.

Before exploring this comparison further, we may ask whether a lesson should always follow a prescribed sequence of steps. The question remains even if we accept that the sequence expresses the normal logical order. In reply, we may say that a logical order reflects how someone who already understands the subject surveys it. It does not reflect the path a learning mind follows. The survey may follow a consistent, straight course. But learning must involve a series of tacks, zigzagging back and forth. In short, the formal steps indicate what a teacher should cover when preparing to lead a lesson. They should not dictate how the lesson actually proceeds.

Lack of any preparation on the part of a teacher leads, of course, to a random, haphazard recitation, its success depending on the inspiration of the moment, which may or may not come. Preparation in simply the subject-matter conduces to a rigid order, the teacher examining pupils on their exact knowledge of their text. But the teacher's problem—as a teacher—does not reside in mastering a subject-matter, but in adjusting a subject-matter to the nurture of thought. Now the formal steps indicate excellently well the questions a teacher should ask in working out the problem of teaching a topic. What preparation have my pupils for attacking this subject? What familiar experiences of theirs are available? What have they already learned that will come to their assistance? How shall I present the matter so as to fit economically and effectively into their present equipment? What pictures shall I show? To what objects shall I call their attention? What incidents shall I relate? What comparisons shall I lead them to draw, what similarities to recognize? What is the general principle toward which the whole discussion should point as its conclusion? By what applications shall I try to fix, to clear up, and to make real their grasp of this general principle? What activities of their own may bring it home to them as a genuinely significant principle?

When a teacher does no preparation, the lesson is naturally random and haphazard. Its success depends on inspiration in the moment, which may or may not come. Preparing only the subject matter tends to produce a rigid lesson, with the teacher testing students on their exact knowledge of the text. But the teacher's task as a teacher is not simply to master a subject. It is to adapt the subject to nurture thought. The formal steps offer excellent questions for a teacher planning how to teach a topic. How prepared are my students to tackle this subject? What familiar experiences can they draw on? What have they already learned that will help them? How can I present the subject so it builds efficiently and effectively on what they already know? What pictures should I show? What objects should I draw their attention to? What incidents should I describe? What comparisons should I lead them to make, and what similarities should I lead them to recognize? What general principle should the whole discussion lead to as its conclusion? How can I use applications to reinforce and clarify their grasp of this general principle and make it real to them? What activities of their own might help them see the principle as genuinely meaningful?

No teacher can fail to teach better if he has considered such questions somewhat systematically. But the more the teacher has reflected upon pupils' probable intellectual response to a topic from the various stand-points indicated by the five formal steps, the more he will be prepared to conduct the recitation in a flexible and free way, and yet not let the subject go to pieces and the pupils' attention drift in all directions; the less necessary will he find it, in order to preserve a semblance of intellectual order, to follow some one uniform scheme. He will be ready to take advantage of any sign of vital response that shows itself from any direction. One pupil may already have some inkling—probably erroneous—of a general principle. Application may then come at the very beginning in order to show that the principle will not work, and thereby induce search for new facts and a new generalization. Or the abrupt presentation of some fact or object may so stimulate the minds of pupils as to render quite superfluous any preliminary preparation. If pupils' minds are at work at all, it is quite impossible that they should wait until the teacher has conscientiously taken them through the steps of preparation, presentation, and comparison before they form at least a working hypothesis or generalization. Moreover, unless comparison of the familiar and the unfamiliar is introduced at the beginning, both preparation and presentation will be aimless and without logical motive, isolated, and in so far meaningless. The student's mind cannot be prepared at large, but only for something in particular, and presentation is usually the best way of evoking associations. The emphasis may fall now on the familiar concept that will help grasp the new, now on the new facts that frame the problem; but in either case it is comparison and contrast with the other term of the pair which gives either its force. In short, to transfer the logical steps from the points that the teacher needs to consider to uniform successive steps in the conduct of a recitation, is to impose the logical review of a mind that already understands the subject, upon the mind that is struggling to comprehend it, and thereby to obstruct the logic of the student's own mind.

Any teacher who has considered such questions somewhat systematically will teach better. The more a teacher has thought about how pupils might respond intellectually to a topic from the perspectives of the five formal steps, the better prepared the teacher will be. The teacher can then conduct the lesson flexibly and freely, without letting the subject fall apart or the pupils' attention wander in all directions. The teacher will also find it less necessary to follow a single uniform plan to maintain an appearance of intellectual order. Instead, the teacher will be ready to take advantage of any sign of genuine engagement, wherever it appears. One pupil may already have some idea of a general principle. The idea is probably wrong. The lesson may then begin by applying the principle to show that it does not work. This may prompt a search for new facts and a new generalization. Or presenting a fact or object without warning may stimulate pupils' minds so much that any preliminary preparation becomes unnecessary. If pupils' minds are working at all, they cannot possibly wait to form a working hypothesis or generalization. They will form one before the teacher has carefully taken them through the steps of preparation, presentation, and comparison. Moreover, unless the familiar and the unfamiliar are compared from the beginning, both preparation and presentation will be aimless. They will lack a logical purpose, stand apart, and be meaningless to that extent. A student's mind cannot be prepared in general, but only for something specific. And presenting something is usually the best way to bring related ideas to mind. The emphasis may fall on the familiar concept that will help pupils grasp the new material. Or it may fall on the new facts that define the problem. But in either case, comparing and contrasting the familiar with the new is what gives each its force. In short, the teacher needs to consider the logical steps. But turning them into uniform steps that every lesson must follow imposes one kind of thinking on another. It imposes the logical review of a mind that already understands the subject on a mind struggling to understand it. This obstructs the logic of the student's own mind.

Bearing in mind that the formal steps represent intertwined factors of a student's progress and not mileposts on a beaten highway, we may consider each by itself. In so doing, it will be convenient to follow the example of many of the Herbartians and reduce the steps to three: first, the apprehension of specific or particular facts; second, rational generalization; third, application and verification.

The formal steps represent intertwined aspects of a student's progress, not milestones along a well-worn road. With this in mind, we can consider each step separately. For this purpose, we can follow the example of many Herbartians and reduce the steps to three: first, understanding specific or particular facts; second, rational generalization; third, application and verification.

I. The processes having to do with particular facts are preparation and presentation. The best, indeed the only preparation is arousal to a perception of something that needs explanation, something unexpected, puzzling, peculiar. When the feeling of a genuine perplexity lays hold of any mind (no matter how the feeling arises), that mind is alert and inquiring, because stimulated from within. The shock, the bite, of a question will force the mind to go wherever it is capable of going, better than will the most ingenious pedagogical devices unaccompanied by this mental ardor. It is the sense of a problem that forces the mind to a survey and recall of the past to discover what the question means and how it may be dealt with.

I. The processes concerned with particular facts are preparation and presentation. The best preparation, indeed the only preparation, is recognizing something that needs explanation, something unexpected, puzzling, or unusual. When a person feels genuinely puzzled, however that feeling arises, the mind becomes alert and curious because it is stimulated from within. The shock and sting of a question will drive the mind as far as it can go. A question does this better than the most ingenious teaching methods without this mental eagerness. A sense of a problem forces the mind to review and recall the past. This helps reveal what the question means and how it may be addressed.

The teacher in his more deliberate attempts to call into play the familiar elements in a student's experience, must guard against certain dangers. (i) The step of preparation must not be too long continued or too exhaustive, or it defeats its own end. The pupil loses interest and is bored, when a plunge in medias res might have braced him to his work. The preparation part of the recitation period of some conscientious teachers reminds one of the boy who takes so long a run in order to gain headway for a jump that when he reaches the line, he is too tired to jump far. (ii) The organs by which we apprehend new material are our habits. To insist too minutely upon turning over habitual dispositions into conscious ideas is to interfere with their best workings. Some factors of familiar experience must indeed be brought to conscious recognition, just as transplanting is necessary for the best growth of some plants. But it is fatal to be forever digging up either experiences or plants to see how they are getting along. Constraint, self-consciousness, embarrassment, are the consequence of too much conscious refurbishing of familiar experiences.

When a teacher deliberately tries to draw on familiar parts of a student's experience, the teacher must guard against certain dangers. (i) Preparation must not go on too long or be too thorough, or it defeats its own purpose. The pupil loses interest and becomes bored, when a plunge in medias res (into the middle of things) might have energized the pupil for the work. Some conscientious teachers spend so much of a lesson on preparation that they bring a boy to mind. He takes such a long run to build momentum for a jump that, by the time he reaches the line, he is too tired to jump far. (ii) We grasp new material through our habits. Insisting too closely that students turn habitual tendencies into conscious ideas interferes with the best use of those habits. Some parts of familiar experience must be brought to conscious attention, just as some plants must be transplanted to grow best. But constantly digging up either experiences or plants to see how they are doing is fatal. Too much conscious reworking of familiar experiences leads to a sense of constraint, self-consciousness, and embarrassment.

Strict Herbartians generally lay it down that statement—by the teacher—of the aim of a lesson is an indispensable part of preparation. This preliminary statement of the aim of the lesson hardly seems more intellectual in character, however, than tapping a bell or giving any other signal for attention and transfer of thoughts from diverting subjects. To the teacher the statement of an end is significant, because he has already been at the end; from a pupil's standpoint the statement of what he is going to learn is something of an Irish bull. If the statement of the aim is taken too seriously by the instructor, as meaning more than a signal to attention, its probable result is forestalling the pupil's own reaction, relieving him of the responsibility of developing a problem and thus arresting his mental initiative.

Strict Herbartians generally insist that the teacher must state the aim of a lesson as part of the preparation. Yet stating the aim beforehand hardly seems more intellectual than ringing a bell or giving another signal. Such a signal directs students’ attention away from distracting subjects. The statement of an aim is meaningful to the teacher because the teacher has already reached that goal. But from a pupil’s point of view, stating what the pupil is going to learn is something of a contradiction. If the teacher takes the statement of the aim too seriously, as more than a signal to pay attention, it will probably preempt the pupil’s own response. It will relieve the pupil of the responsibility for developing a problem and thus halt the pupil’s mental initiative.

It is unnecessary to discuss at length presentation as a factor in the recitation, because our last chapter covered the topic under the captions of observation and communication. The function of presentation is to supply materials that force home the nature of a problem and furnish suggestions for dealing with it. The practical problem of the teacher is to preserve a balance between so little showing and telling as to fail to stimulate reflection and so much as to choke thought. Provided the student is genuinely engaged upon a topic, and provided the teacher is willing to give the student a good deal of leeway as to what he assimilates and retains (not requiring rigidly that everything be grasped or reproduced), there is comparatively little danger that one who is himself enthusiastic will communicate too much concerning a topic.

There is no need to discuss presentation at length as part of classroom instruction, because the last chapter covered it under observation and communication. Presentation supplies material that makes the nature of a problem clear and suggests ways to deal with it. The teacher’s practical challenge is to find a balance. Too little showing and telling fails to stimulate reflection, while too much chokes thought. As long as the student is genuinely engaged with a topic, and the teacher allows the student considerable freedom in what they absorb and remember, an enthusiastic teacher runs relatively little risk of communicating too much about it. Such a teacher must not rigidly require the student to grasp or repeat everything.

II. The distinctively rational phase of reflective inquiry consists, as we have already seen, in the elaboration of an idea, or working hypothesis, through conjoint comparison and contrast, terminating in definition or formulation. (i) So far as the recitation is concerned, the primary requirement is that the student be held responsible for working out mentally every suggested principle so as to show what he means by it, how it bears upon the facts at hand, and how the facts bear upon it. Unless the pupil is made responsible for developing on his own account the reasonableness of the guess he puts forth, the recitation counts for practically nothing in the training of reasoning power. A clever teacher easily acquires great skill in dropping out the inept and senseless contributions of pupils, and in selecting and emphasizing those in line with the result he wishes to reach. But this method (sometimes called "suggestive questioning") relieves the pupils of intellectual responsibility, save for acrobatic agility in following the teacher's lead.

II. As we have already seen, the distinctly rational phase of reflective inquiry involves developing an idea, or working hypothesis. This development proceeds through comparison and contrast together, ending in a definition or formulation. (i) In classroom recitation, the main requirement is to hold students responsible for thinking through every suggested principle. Students must show what they mean by the principle, how it relates to the facts at hand, and how those facts relate to it. A pupil must be held responsible for developing the reasonableness of a proposed guess independently. Otherwise, recitation does practically nothing to train the pupil’s reasoning power. A clever teacher can easily become skilled at dismissing pupils’ irrelevant and senseless contributions. The teacher can then select and emphasize those that lead toward the desired result. But this method (sometimes called "suggestive questioning") relieves pupils of intellectual responsibility. They need only show acrobatic agility in following the teacher’s lead.

(ii) The working over of a vague and more or less casual idea into coherent and definite form is impossible without a pause, without freedom from distraction. We say "Stop and think"; well, all reflection involves, at some point, stopping external observations and reactions so that an idea may mature. Meditation, withdrawal or abstraction from clamorous assailants of the senses and from demands for overt action, is as necessary at the reasoning stage, as are observation and experiment at other periods. The metaphors of digestion and assimilation, that so readily occur to mind in connection with rational elaboration, are highly instructive. A silent, uninterrupted working-over of considerations by comparing and weighing alternative suggestions, is indispensable for the development of coherent and compact conclusions. Reasoning is no more akin to disputing or arguing, or to the abrupt seizing and dropping of suggestions, than digestion is to a noisy champing of the jaws. The teacher must secure opportunity for leisurely mental digestion.

(ii) A vague, more or less casual idea cannot be developed into a clear, coherent form without a pause and freedom from distraction. We say "Stop and think." All reflection involves, at some point, stopping outward observation and reaction so that an idea can mature. At the reasoning stage, meditation and withdrawal from noisy demands on the senses and calls for outward action are necessary. They are as necessary as observation and experiment at other stages. The comparisons to digestion and assimilation, which come readily to mind when we think of reasoning, are highly instructive. To reach coherent and compact conclusions, we must silently and without interruption compare and weigh alternative suggestions. Reasoning is no more like disputing or arguing, or quickly picking up and dropping suggestions, than digestion is like noisy chewing. The teacher must make time for unhurried mental digestion.

(iii) In the process of comparison, the teacher must avert the distraction that ensues from putting before the mind a number of facts on the same level of importance. Since attention is selective, some one object normally claims thought and furnishes the center of departure and reference. This fact is fatal to the success of the pedagogical methods that endeavor to conduct comparison on the basis of putting before the mind a row of objects of equal importance. In comparing, the mind does not naturally begin with objects a, b, c, d, and try to find the respect in which they agree. It begins with a single object or situation more or less vague and inchoate in meaning, and makes excursions to other objects in order to render understanding of the central object consistent and clear. The mere multiplication of objects of comparison is adverse to successful reasoning. Each fact brought within the field of comparison should clear up some obscure feature or extend some fragmentary trait of the primary object.

(iii) When guiding comparison, the teacher must prevent the distraction caused by presenting several facts as equally important. Attention is selective, so one object normally claims our thought and provides a starting point and focus. This makes teaching methods that present a row of equally important objects for comparison bound to fail. When comparing, the mind does not naturally begin with objects a, b, c, d and try to find what they have in common. It begins with a single object or situation whose meaning is more or less vague and undeveloped. It then turns to other objects to make its understanding of the central object consistent and clear. Simply multiplying the objects being compared hinders successful reasoning. Each fact brought into the comparison should clarify some obscure feature or expand on some incomplete aspect of the primary object.

In short, pains should be taken to see that the object on which thought centers is typical: material being typical when, although individual or specific, it is such as readily and fruitfully suggests the principles of an entire class of facts. No sane person begins to think about rivers wholesale or at large. He begins with the one river that has presented some puzzling trait. Then he studies other rivers to get light upon the baffling features of this one, and at the same time he employs the characteristic traits of his original object to reduce to order the multifarious details that appear in connection with other rivers. This working back and forth preserves unity of meaning, while protecting it from monotony and narrowness. Contrast, unlikeness, throws significant features into relief, and these become instruments for binding together into an organized or coherent meaning dissimilar characters. The mind is defended against the deadening influence of many isolated particulars and also against the barrenness of a merely formal principle. Particular cases and properties supply emphasis and concreteness; general principles convert the particulars into a single system.

In short, we should take care to ensure that the object of thought is typical. Material is typical when it is individual or specific, yet readily and usefully suggests the principles of a whole class of facts. No sane person begins by thinking about rivers in general. A person begins with one river that has shown some puzzling feature. Then they study other rivers to shed light on that puzzling feature. At the same time, they use the distinctive features of the original river to make sense of the many details found in other rivers. This back and forth keeps the meaning unified while protecting it from monotony and narrowness. Contrast and difference bring important features into focus. These features then help bind different characteristics together into an organized, coherent meaning. The mind is protected both from the dulling effect of many isolated details and from the emptiness of a merely formal principle. Particular cases and properties add emphasis and concreteness. General principles turn the particulars into a single system.

(iv) Hence generalization is not a separate and single act; it is rather a constant tendency and function of the entire discussion or recitation. Every step forward toward an idea that comprehends, that explains, that unites what was isolated and therefore puzzling, generalizes. The little child generalizes as truly as the adolescent or adult, even though he does not arrive at the same generalities. If he is studying a river basin, his knowledge is generalized in so far as the various details that he apprehends are found to be the effects of a single force, as that of water pushing downward from gravity, or are seen to be successive stages of a single history of formation. Even if there were acquaintance with only one river, knowledge of it under such conditions would be generalized knowledge.

(iv) So generalization is not a single, separate act. Rather, it is a constant tendency and function throughout the discussion or recitation. Every step toward an idea that brings together and explains isolated, puzzling facts is a step toward generalization. A young child generalizes just as truly as an adolescent or adult, though the child does not reach the same general conclusions. If a child is studying a river basin, the child’s knowledge becomes generalized when various details are understood as effects of a single force. That force might be water flowing downward because of gravity. The child’s knowledge also becomes generalized when the details are seen as successive stages in the basin’s formation. Even if the child knew only one river, knowledge of it under these conditions would be generalized knowledge.

The factor of formulation, of conscious stating, involved in generalization, should also be a constant function, not a single formal act. Definition means essentially the growth of a meaning out of vagueness into definiteness. Such final verbal definition as takes place should be only the culmination of a steady growth in distinctness. In the reaction against ready-made verbal definitions and rules, the pendulum should never swing to the opposite extreme, that of neglecting to summarize the net meaning that emerges from dealing with particular facts. Only as general summaries are made from time to time does the mind reach a conclusion or a resting place; and only as conclusions are reached is there an intellectual deposit available in future understanding.

The conscious expression of ideas involved in generalization should also be a continuing process, not a single formal act. Definition means, essentially, the growth of a meaning from vagueness into clarity. Any final verbal definition should merely complete a steady growth in clarity. In rejecting ready-made verbal definitions and rules, we should never go to the opposite extreme. We should not neglect to sum up the overall meaning that emerges from dealing with particular facts. Only by making general summaries from time to time can the mind reach a conclusion or a resting place. And only by reaching conclusions can the mind store up knowledge for future understanding.

III. As the last words indicate, application and generalization lie close together. Mechanical skill for further use may be achieved without any explicit recognition of a principle; nay, in routine and narrow technical matters, conscious formulation may be a hindrance. But without recognition of a principle, without generalization, the power gained cannot be transferred to new and dissimilar matters. The inherent significance of generalization is that it frees a meaning from local restrictions; rather, generalization is meaning so freed; it is meaning emancipated from accidental features so as to be available in new cases. The surest test for detecting a spurious generalization (a statement general in verbal form but not accompanied by discernment of meaning), is the failure of the so-called principle spontaneously to extend itself. The essence of the general is application. (Ante, p. 29.)

III. As the last words suggest, application and generalization are closely connected. A person may gain a practical skill for future use without explicitly recognizing a principle. In fact, consciously stating a principle may get in the way of routine and narrow technical work. But without recognizing a principle, without generalizing, a person cannot transfer the ability gained to new and different matters. The essential significance of generalization is that it frees a meaning from local limits. More precisely, generalization is meaning freed in this way. It is meaning freed from incidental features so that it can be used in new cases. A false generalization is a statement that sounds general but is not accompanied by an understanding of its meaning. The surest test for detecting one is whether the so-called principle fails to extend itself naturally to new cases. The essence of the general is application. (Ante, p. 29.)

The true purpose of exercises that apply rules and principles is, then, not so much to drive or drill them in as to give adequate insight into an idea or principle. To treat application as a separate final step is disastrous. In every judgment some meaning is employed as a basis for estimating and interpreting some fact; by this application the meaning is itself enlarged and tested. When the general meaning is regarded as complete in itself, application is treated as an external, non-intellectual use to which, for practical purposes alone, it is advisable to put the meaning. The principle is one self-contained thing; its use is another and independent thing. When this divorce occurs, principles become fossilized and rigid; they lose their inherent vitality, their self-impelling power.

The real purpose of exercises that apply rules and principles is not so much to drill them in as to give a full understanding of an idea or principle. It is disastrous to treat application as a separate final step. Every judgment uses some meaning as a basis for assessing and interpreting a fact. This application expands and tests the meaning itself. When the general meaning is considered complete in itself, application is treated as a separate, nonintellectual use of that meaning. Applying the meaning is then considered advisable only for practical purposes. The principle is one self-contained thing, and its use is another, independent thing. When the two are separated, principles become fossilized and rigid. They lose their natural vitality and their power to drive themselves forward.

A true conception is a moving idea, and it seeks outlet, or application to the interpretation of particulars and the guidance of action, as naturally as water runs downhill. In fine, just as reflective thought requires particular facts of observation and events of action for its origination, so it also requires particular facts and deeds for its own consummation. "Glittering generalities" are inert because they are spurious. Application is as much an intrinsic part of genuine reflective inquiry as is alert observation or reasoning itself. Truly general principles tend to apply themselves. The teacher needs, indeed, to supply conditions favorable to use and exercise; but something is wrong when artificial tasks have arbitrarily to be invented in order to secure application for principles.

A true concept is a moving idea. It seeks to be used to interpret particular things and guide action, as naturally as water runs downhill. In short, reflective thought begins with specific facts we observe and events involving action. Just as it needs these to begin, it also needs specific facts and actions to reach completion. "Glittering generalities" have no effect because they are not genuine. Applying ideas is just as essential to genuine reflective inquiry as careful observation or reasoning. Truly general principles tend to find their own uses. The teacher does need to create conditions that encourage their use and practice. But something is wrong when artificial tasks must be invented arbitrarily just to give principles an application.