s,
blotted all over with the mistakes of other people. And how do we
treat this natural sense of what is true and good, this willingness
to choose good rather than evil, if it is made even the least bit
comprehensible and attractive? In various ways, all equally dull,
blind, and vicious. If we look at the downright ethical significance
of the methods of training and discipline in many families and
schools, we see that they are positively degrading. We appoint more
and more "monitors" instead of training the "inward monitor" in each
child, make truth-telling difficult instead of easy, punish trivial
and grave offenses about in the same way, practice open bribery by
promising children a few cents a day to behave themselves, and weaken
their sense of right by giving them picture cards for telling the
truth and credits for doing the most obvious duty. This has been
carried on until we are on the point of needing another Deluge and a
new start.
Is it strange that we find the moral sense blunted, the conscience
unenlightened? The moral climate with which we surround the child is
so hazy that the spiritual vision grows dimmer and dimmer,--and
small wonder! Upon this solid mass of ignorance and stupidity it is
difficult to make any impression; yet I suppose there is greater
joy in heaven over a cordial "thwack" at it than over most blows at
existing evils.
The kindergarten attempts a rational, respectful treatment of
children, leading them to do right as much as possible for right's
sake, abjuring all rewards save the pleasure of working for others and
the delight that follows a good action, and all punishments save
those that follow as natural penalties of broken laws,--the obvious
consequences of the special bit of wrong-doing, whatever it may be.
The child's will is addressed in such a way as to draw it on, if
right; to turn it willingly, if wrong. Coercion in the sense of fear,
personal magnetism, nay, even the child's love for the teacher, may
be used in such a way as to weaken his moral force. With every free,
conscious choice of right, a human being's moral power and strength of
character increase; and the converse of this is equally true.
If the child is unruly in play, he leaves the circle and sits or
stands by himself, a miserable, lonely unit until he feels again in
sympathy with the community. If he destroys his work, he unites the
tattered fragments as best he may, and takes the moral object lesson
home wit
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