ame, but duty bids me work out my problem. I make
myself attend to it in spite of the pull of my natural interests.

And so attention is seen to be purely the result of physiological
stimulus; it is seen to accompany--fairly to be born out of
it--interest. It is seen to be the result of an operation of the will
against the natural force of interest. This three-fold classification is
of particular significance to the teacher. He may be sure that if he
resorts to the use of unusual stimuli he can arrest attention, though by
so doing he has no guarantee of holding it; he may feel certain of
attention if he can bring before pupils objects and ideas which to them
are interesting; he may so win them to the purposes of his recitation
that they will give attention even though they are not interested in
what may be going on for the time being. It is evident, however, that
resorting to violent stimuli is dangerous, that forced attention is
ultimately disagreeable and certainly not a modern commonplace in
experience, that attention which attends genuine interest is the
attention most generally to be sought.

One question still remains: "How shall we proceed to secure and to hold
attention?"

In the first place we should remind ourselves that it is a difficult
matter to give sustained attention to a single object or idea, unless
the object or idea changes. The difficulty is greater with children than
with adults. In the second place we should be mindful that it is poor
policy either to demand attention or to beg for it.

Where attention has to be secured out of disorder we are justified in
making use of stimuli that shock pupils into attention. One of the best
illustrations of this sort of procedure was the method used in the David
Belasco theatre in New York to get audiences quiet for the opening of
the performances. Mr. Belasco was convinced that the orchestra had
become a mere accompaniment to the clatter and noise of the audience and
so he did not trust to that means to secure order. In fact, he discarded
the orchestra idea. At the appointed hour for the curtain to rise, his
theatre became suddenly dark. So dark that the blackness was startling.
Immediately upon the silence that attended the shock the soft chiming of
bells became audible which led the audience to strain in an attempt to
catch fully the effect of the chime. At that point the curtains were
drawn and the first lines of the play fell upon the ears of a perfectly