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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 78

[introduction]

Dr Truby King's lecture before the Otago Education Institute on July 13 was delivered mostly in the dark, because of the exigencies of limelight demonstration. Therefore, in note-taking, our reporter had to make hazard shots at his copy paper; but, thanks to the lecturer's admirable method of imparting information and creating actual memory (this will be made more or less clear below), we are able to give the following sketch of the address. This article does not pretend to be a detailed record of all that Dr King said in the course of nearly three hours' speaking; it is rather an impression of the lecture condensed to fit available space.

In the beginning, then, the doctor explained that he had been asked by the secretary of the Institute to give an address upon some educational subject. He had already said a good deal upon the matter of education, but felt that it was a great compliment to be asked to speak again before an assemblage of teachers, and so he was really glad to have this opportunity. Among teachers there might occasionally have been a slight misunderstanding as to his point of view. Certainly the last thing that would have occurred to him would have been to say anything uncomplimentary to members of a profession for which he had always had the highest respect, and to which many of his most intimate personal friends belonged. Nothing that he had to say was personal in regard to individuals, and most of his remarks were not particular in regard to New Zealand. Anything critical that he had uttered had applied largely to modern education the world over. He explained that one expression for which he had been specially taken to task was not really his own, but a quotation from Canon Lynelton, the head-master of Eton, who had said, in effect, when speaking to an assembly of schoolmasters, that the work of teaching under existing conditions had become largely a matter of imparting' ta pupils the happy knack of deceiving examiners. It was quite clear what Cace Lyttelton meant—viz., that when teacher ground children for an examination of material got unsuperficially, and to be dropoed immediately afterwards, he did not think that real knowledge was accuired, though it might satisfy the examiners. No doubt Canon Lytelton war strictly justified in what he said, and the speaker agreed with him. He had recently spoken and written somewhat fully on education, educational reformers, arid the evils of over-pressure. Further, be had advocated play and games in connection with school life as a compulsory part of the curriculum, essential not only for the body but for the full development of mind and spirit. His intention in this lecture was to speak largely from a medi cal or physiological point of view. It was one of those matters in which the members of one profession might possibly be of some assistance to the members of another profession.—(Applause.) The task of giving a name to his lecture be-forehand had been difficult. The ten "creator" was not strictly correct, because creation was beyond the power of man. As Grove said in his classic 'Cor-relation of the Physical Forces': "Causation is the will of God; creation is the act of God." What he meant by page 57 calling the teacher a "creative agent" was to convey in a phrase the stupendous power and responsibility of the man engaged in building up for good or evil the body, mind, and spirit of his fellow-beings. If anyone could be called the creator of an individual it was the schoolster because on him actually depended structure to some extent of every organ of the body of his pupil, and especially the actual structure and pattern of the brain and nervous system, on which so much of the after life of the individual depended.* Another thought arose secondarily, and that was that one should not look upon education narrowly from the point of view of teacher or pupil alone, or of both combined. One must look at it also—particularly at compulsory State education—from a national point of view, and he intended to show secondarily, certain points by which he might fairly illustrate to how great an extent the teacher might be a creator from the merely material standpoint—a creator not only of competent human beings, but of the prosperity, the development, and the material resources and wealth of a country.

* As some of Dr King's critics publicly expressed incredulity in regard to the teacher influencing the actual structure of the nervous system of his pupils, he supplies the following extract from the most recent and authoritative work on the subject from the point of view of practical education :—

The Education of the Central Nervous System.

By R. P. Halleck, M.A. (Yale.)

It has been known for some time that the higher processes of thought are dependent on modifications in brain cells, and that the highest intellectual superstructure can be no firmer than the sensory foundation, but this knowledge has not been properly applied in training these cells. Practical application of truths lags far behind a theoretical knowledge of them. . . .

In education, the world has not yet practically realised the very important truth that youthful nerve cells alone are easily modified by training. The old theory that education consists solely in modifications in an immaterial entity has worked untold damage. It was argued that the immaterial never grew old, and that it could be trained as well at one time as at another. From this mistaken notion arose such adages as : "It is never too late to be what you might have been." It would be nearer the truth to say : "It is always too late to be what you might have been." With each advancing year, this becomes an absolute truth in the case of the vast majority who have reached the age of twenty.

It may be true, as we believe it to be, that education consists in developing a mind as well as mere brain cells: but the mind, for its materials, is completely at the mercy of the nervous system. A well-trained nervous system is the greatest friend that the mind can have. All ill-trained nervous system is a relentless enemy to the higher mental powers. It follows its victims and thwarts then aims until the pitying grave stops it. . . .

Roughly speaking, the plasticity of nerve cells is inversely proportional to their age. A wood chopper may sharpen his axe as well the next week or the next year; a man owning mineral land may mine the coal now or wait twenty years" as he chooses, knowing that it will not deteriorate. But the nervous system can be effectively trained only in youth. An adult may be approximately defined as the sum of his youthful nerve reactions, which tend to perpetuate themselves.

. . . . Anything reasonable can be done with the youthful nervous system. If the training is deferred, it will soon be too late to accomplish much. Habits are early formed, and after they have once become fixed they rule us with the grasp of a Titan.