le and generous kind
of rivalry, as well as a spiteful and greedy kind; and the noble and
generous form is particularly common in childhood. All games owe the
zest which they bring with them to the fact that they are rooted in the
emulous passion, yet they are the chief means of training in fairness
and magnanimity. Can the teacher afford to throw such an ally away?
Ought we seriously to hope that marks, distinctions, prizes, and other
goals of effort, based on the pursuit of recognized superiority, should
be forever banished from our schools? As a psychologist, obliged to
notice the deep and pervasive character of the emulous passion, I must
confess my doubts.
The wise teacher will use this instinct as he uses others, reaping its
advantages, and appealing to it in such a way as to reap a maximum of
benefit with a minimum of harm; for, after all, we must confess, with a
French critic of Rousseau's doctrine, that the deepest spring of action
in us is the sight of action in another. The spectacle of effort is what
awakens and sustains our own effort. No runner running all alone on a
race-track will find in his own will the power of stimulation which his
rivalry with other runners incites, when he feels them at his heels,
about to pass. When a trotting horse is 'speeded,' a running horse must
go beside him to keep him to the pace.
As imitation slides into emulation, so emulation slides into
_Ambition_; and ambition connects itself closely with _Pugnacity_ and
_Pride_. Consequently, these five instinctive tendencies form an
interconnected group of factors, hard to separate in the determination
of a great deal of our conduct. The _Ambitious Impulses_ would perhaps
be the best name for the whole group.
Pride and pugnacity have often been considered unworthy passions to
appeal to in the young. But in their more refined and noble forms they
play a great part in the schoolroom and in education generally, being in
some characters most potent spurs to effort. Pugnacity need not be
thought of merely in the form of physical combativeness. It can be taken
in the sense of a general unwillingness to be beaten by any kind of
difficulty. It is what makes us feel 'stumped' and challenged by arduous
achievements, and is essential to a spirited and enterprising character.
We have of late been hearing much of the philosophy of tenderness in
education; 'interest' must be assiduously awakened in everything,
difficulties must be smoothed
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