Victor Hugo - "Actes et Paroles, Vol. 4"

John Ruskin - "Mornings in Florence"

George Mueller - "A Narrative of Some of the Lord's Dealings with George Mueller"

Thomas Holcroft - "Anna St. Ives"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Mind and Its Education

G >> George Herbert Betts >> The Mind and Its Education




THE ACCURACY OF PERCEPTS DEPENDS ON EXPERIENCE.--We must perceive
objects through our motor response to them as well as in terms of
sensations. The boy who has his knowledge of a tennis racket from
looking at one in a store window, or indeed from handling one and
looking it over in his room, can never know a tennis racket as does the
boy who plays with it on the court. Objects get their significance not
alone from their qualities, but even more from their use as related to
our own activities.

Like the child, we must get our knowledge of objects, if we are to get
it well, from the objects themselves at first hand, and not second hand
through descriptions of them by others. The fact that there is so much
of the material world about us that we can never hope to learn it all,
has made it necessary to put down in books many of the things which have
been discovered concerning nature. This necessity has, I fear, led many
away from nature itself to books--away from the living reality of things
to the dead embalming cases of words, in whose empty forms we see so
little of the significance which resides in the things themselves. We
are in danger of being satisfied with the _forms_ of knowledge without
its _substance_--with definitions contained in words instead of in
qualities and uses.

NOT DEFINITIONS, BUT FIRST-HAND CONTACT.--In like manner we come to know
distance, form and size. If we have never become acquainted with a mile
by actually walking a mile, running a mile, riding a bicycle a mile,
driving a horse a mile, or traveling a mile on a train, we might listen
for a long time to someone tell how far a mile is, or state the distance
from Chicago to Denver, without knowing much about it in any way except
word definitions. In order to understand a mile, we must come to know it
in as many ways as possible through sense activities of our own.
Although many children have learned that it is 25,000 miles around the
earth, probably no one who has not encircled the globe has any
reasonably accurate notion just how far this is. For words cannot take
the place of perceptions in giving us knowledge. In the case of shorter
distances, the same rule holds. The eye must be assisted by experience
of the muscles and tendons and joints in actually covering distance, and
learn to associate these sensations with those of the eye before the
eye alone can be able to say, "That tree is ten rods distant." Form and
size are to be learned in the same way. The hands must actually touch
and handle the object, experiencing its hardness or smoothness, the way
this curve and that angle feels, the amount of muscular energy it takes
to pass the hand over this surface and along that line, the eye taking
note all the while, before the eye can tell at a glance that yonder
object is a sphere and that this surface is two feet on the edge.


3. THE PERCEPTION OF SPACE

Many have been the philosophical controversies over the nature of space
and our perception of it. The psychologists have even quarreled
concerning whether we possess an _innate_ sense of space, or whether it
is a product of experience and training. Fortunately, for our present
purpose we shall not need to concern ourselves with either of these
controversies. For our discussion we may accept space for what common
sense understands it to be. As to our sense of space, whatever of this
we may possess at birth, it certainly has to be developed by use and
experience to become of practical value. In the perception of space we
must come to perceive _distance_, _direction_, _size_, and _form_. As a
matter of fact, however, size is but so much distance, and form is but
so much distance in this, that, or the other direction.

THE PERCEIVING OF DISTANCE.--Unquestionably the eye comes to be our
chief dependence in determining distance. Yet the muscle and joint
senses give us our earliest knowledge of distance. The babe reaches for
the moon simply because the eye does not tell it that the moon is out of
reach. Only as the child reaches for its playthings, creeps or walks
after them, and in a thousand ways uses its muscles and joints in
measuring distance, does the perception of distance become dependable.

At the same time the eye is slowly developing its power of judging
distance. But not for several years does visual perception of distance
become in any degree accurate. The eye's perception of distance depends
in part on the sensations arising from the muscles controlling the eye,
probably in part from the adjustment of the lens, and in part from the
retinal image. If one tries to look at the tip of his nose he easily
feels the muscle strain caused by the required angle of adjustment. We
come unconsciously to associate distance with the muscle sensations
arising from the different angles of vision. The part played by the
retinal image in judging distance is easily understood in looking at two
trees, one thirty feet and the other three hundred feet distant. We note
that the nearer tree shows the _detail_ of the bark and leaves, while
the more distant one lacks this detail. The nearer tree also reflects
more _light_ and _color_ than the one farther away. These minute
differences, registered as they are on the retinal image, come to stand
for so much of distance.

The ear also learns to perceive distance through differences in the
quality and the intensity of sound. Auditory perception of distance is,
however, never very accurate.

THE PERCEIVING OF DIRECTION.--The motor senses probably give us our
first perception of direction, as they do of distance. The child has to
reach this way or that way for his rattle; turn the eyes or head so far
in order to see an interesting object; twist the body, crawl or walk to
one side or the other to secure his bottle. In these experiences he is
gaining his first knowledge of direction.

Along with these muscle-joint experiences, the eye is also being
trained. The position of the image on the retina comes to stand for
direction, and the eye finally develops so remarkable a power of
perceiving direction that a picture hung a half inch out of plumb is a
source of annoyance. The ear develops some skill in the perception of
direction, but is less dependable than the eye.


4. THE PERCEPTION OF TIME

The philosophers and psychologists agree little better about our sense
of time than they do about our sense of space. Of this much, however, we
may be certain, our perception of time is subject to development and
training.

NATURE OF THE TIME SENSE.--How we perceive time is not so well
understood as our perception of space. It is evident, however, that our
idea of time is simpler than our idea of space--it has less of content,
less that we can describe. Probably the most fundamental part of our
idea of time is _progression_, or change, without which it is difficult
to think of time at all. The question then becomes, how do we perceive
change, or succession?

If one looks in upon his thought stream he finds that the movement of
consciousness is not uniformly continuous, but that his thought moves in
pulses, or short rushes, so to speak. When we are seeking for some fact
or conclusion, there is a moment of expectancy, or poising, and then the
leap forward to the desired point, or conclusion, from which an
immediate start is taken for the next objective point of our thinking.
It is probable that our sense of the few seconds of passing time that
we call the _immediate present_ consists of the recognition of the
succession of these pulsations of consciousness, together with certain
organic rhythms, such as heart beat and breathing.

NO PERCEPTION OF EMPTY TIME.--Our perception does not therefore act upon
empty time. Time must be filled with a procession of events, whether
these be within our own consciousness or in the objective world without.
All longer periods of time, such as hours, days, or years, are measured
by the events which they contain. Time filled with happenings that
interest and attract us seems short while passing, but longer when
looked back upon. On the other hand, time relatively empty of
interesting experience hangs heavy on our hands in passing, but, viewed
in retrospect, seems short. A fortnight of travel passes more quickly
than a fortnight of illness, but yields many more events for the memory
to review as the "filling" for time.

Probably no one has any very accurate feeling of the length, that is,
the actual _duration_ of a year--or even of a month! We therefore divide
time into convenient units, as weeks, months, years and centuries. This
allows us to think of time in mathematical terms where immediate
perception fails in its grasp.


5. THE TRAINING OF PERCEPTION

In the physical world as in the spiritual there are many people who,
"having eyes, see not and ears, hear not." For the ability to perceive
accurately and richly in the world of physical objects depends not alone
on good sense organs, but also on _interest_ and the habit of
_observation_. It is easy if we are indifferent or untrained to look at
a beautiful landscape, a picture or a cathedral without _seeing_ it; it
is easy if we lack interest or skill to listen to an orchestra or the
myriad sounds of nature without _hearing_ them.

PERCEPTION NEEDS TO BE TRAINED.--Training in perception does not depend
entirely on the work of the school. For the world about us exerts a
constant appeal to our senses. A thousand sights, sounds, contacts,
tastes, smells or other sensations, hourly throng in upon us, and the
appeal is irresistible. We must in some degree attend. We must observe.

Yet it cannot be denied that most of us are relatively unskilled in
perception; we do not know how, or take the trouble to observe. For
example, a stranger was brought into the classroom and introduced by the
instructor to a class of fifty college students in psychology. The class
thought the stranger was to address them, and looked at him with mild
curiosity. But, after standing before them for a few moments, he
suddenly withdrew, as had been arranged by the instructor. The class
were then asked to write such a description of the stranger as would
enable a person who had never seen him to identify him. But so poor had
been the observation of the class that they ascribed to him clothes of
four different colors, eyes and hair each of three different colors, a
tie of many different hues, height ranging from five feet and four
inches to over six feet, age from twenty-eight to forty-five years, and
many other details as wide of the mark. Nor is it probable that this
particular class was below the average in the power of perception.

SCHOOL TRAINING IN PERCEPTION.--The school can do much in training the
perception. But to accomplish this, the child must constantly be brought
into immediate contact with the physical world about him and taught to
observe. Books must not be substituted for things. Definitions must not
take the place of experiment or discovery. Geography and nature study
should be taught largely out of doors, and the lessons assigned should
take the child into the open for observation and investigation. All
things that live and grow, the sky and clouds, the sunset colors, the
brown of upturned soil, the smell of the clover field, or the new mown
hay, the sounds of a summer night, the distinguishing marks by which to
identify each family of common birds or breed of cattle--these and a
thousand other things that appeal to us from the simplest environment
afford a rich opportunity for training the perception. And he who has
learned to observe, and who is alert to the appeal of nature, has no
small part of his education already assured.


6. PROBLEMS IN OBSERVATION AND INTROSPECTION

1. Test your power of observation by walking rapidly past a well-filled
store window and then seeing how many of the objects you can name.

2. Suppose a tailor, a bootblack, a physician, and a detective are
standing on the street corner as you pass by. What will each one be most
likely to observe about you? _Why?_

3. Observe carefully green trees at a distance of a few rods; a quarter
of a mile; a mile; several miles. Describe differences (1) in color, (2)
in brightness, or light, and (3) in detail.

4. How many common birds can you identify? How many kinds of trees? Of
wild flowers? Of weeds?

5. Observe the work of an elementary school for the purpose of
determining:

a. Whether the instruction in geography, nature study, agriculture,
etc., calls for the use of the eyes, ears and fingers.

b. Whether definitions are used in place of first-hand information in
any subjects.

c. Whether the assignment of lessons to pupils includes work that would
require the use of the senses, especially out of doors.

d. Whether the work offered in arithmetic demands the use of the senses
as well as the reason.

e. Whether the language lessons make use of the power of observation.




CHAPTER VIII

MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS


As you sit thinking, a company of you together, your thoughts run in
many diverse lines. Yet with all this diversity, your minds possess this
common characteristic: _Though your thinking all takes place in what we
call the present moment, it goes on largely in terms of past
experiences._


1. THE PART PLAYED BY PAST EXPERIENCE

PRESENT THINKING DEPENDS ON PAST EXPERIENCE.--Images or ideas of things
you have seen or heard or felt; of things you have thought of before and
which now recur to you; of things you remember, such as names, dates,
places, events; of things that you do not remember as a part of your
past at all, but that belong to it nevertheless--these are the things
which form a large part of your mental stream, and which give content to
your thinking. You may think of a thing that is going on now, or of one
that is to occur in the future; but, after all, you are dependent on
your past experience for the material which you put into your thinking
of the present moment.

Indeed, nothing can enter your present thinking which does not link
itself to something in your past experience. The savage Indian in the
primeval forest never thought about killing a deer with a rifle merely
by pulling a trigger, or of turning a battery of machine guns on his
enemies to annihilate them--none of these things were related to his
past experience; hence he could not think in such terms.

THE PRESENT INTERPRETED BY THE PAST.--Not only can we not think at all
except in terms of our past experience, but even if we could, the
present would be meaningless to us; for the present is interpreted in
the light of the past. The sedate man of affairs who decries athletic
sports, and has never taken part in them, cannot understand the wild
enthusiasm which prevails between rival teams in a hotly contested
event. The fine work of art is to the one who has never experienced the
appeal which comes through beauty, only so much of canvas and variegated
patches of color. Paul says that Jesus was "unto the Greeks,
foolishness." He was foolishness to them because nothing in their
experience with their own gods had been enough like the character of
Jesus to enable them to interpret Him.

THE FUTURE ALSO DEPENDS ON THE PAST.--To the mind incapable of using
past experience, the future also would be impossible; for we can look
forward into the future only by placing in its experiences the elements
of which we have already known. The savage who has never seen the
shining yellow metal does not dream of a heaven whose streets are paved
with gold, but rather of a "happy hunting ground." If you will analyze
your own dreams of the future you will see in them familiar pictures
perhaps grouped together in new forms, but coming, in their elements,
from your past experience nevertheless. All that would remain to a mind
devoid of a past would be the little bridge of time which we call the
"present moment," a series of unconnected _nows_. Thought would be
impossible, for the mind would have nothing to compare and relate.
Personality would not exist; for personality requires continuity of
experience, else we should be a new person each succeeding moment,
without memory and without plans. Such a mind would be no mind at all.

RANK DETERMINED BY ABILITY TO UTILIZE PAST EXPERIENCE.--So important is
past experience in determining our present thinking and guiding our
future actions, that the place of an individual in the scale of creation
is determined largely by the ability to profit by past experience. The
scientist tells us of many species of animals now extinct, which lost
their lives and suffered their race to die out because when, long ago,
the climate began to change and grow much colder, they were unable to
use the experience of suffering in the last cold season as an incentive
to provide shelter, or move to a warmer climate against the coming of
the next and more rigorous one. Man was able to make the adjustment;
and, providing himself with clothing and shelter and food, he survived,
while myriads of the lower forms perished.

The singed moth again and again dares the flame which tortures it, and
at last gives its life, a sacrifice to its folly; the burned child fears
the fire, and does not the second time seek the experience. So also can
the efficiency of an individual or a nation, as compared with other
individuals or nations, be determined. The inefficient are those who
repeat the same error or useless act over and over, or else fail to
repeat a chance useful act whose repetition might lead to success. They
are unable to learn their lesson and be guided by experience. Their past
does not sufficiently minister to their present, and through it direct
their future.


2. HOW PAST EXPERIENCE IS CONSERVED

PAST EXPERIENCE CONSERVED IN BOTH MENTAL AND PHYSICAL TERMS.--If past
experience plays so important a part in our welfare, how, then, is it to
be conserved so that we may secure its benefits? Here, as elsewhere, we
find the mind and body working in perfect unison and harmony, each doing
its part to further the interests of both. The results of our past
experience may be read in both our mental and our physical nature.

On the physical side past experience is recorded in modified structure
through the law of habit working on the tissues of the body, and
particularly on the delicate tissues of the brain and nervous system.
This is easily seen in its outward aspects. The stooped shoulders and
bent form of the workman tell a tale of physical toil and exposure; the
bloodless lips and pale face of the victim of the city sweat shop tell
of foul air, long hours, and insufficient food; the rosy cheek and
bounding step of childhood speak of fresh air, good food and happy play.

On the mental side past experience is conserved chiefly by means of
_images_, _ideas_, and _concepts_. The nature and function of concepts
will be discussed in a later chapter. It will now be our purpose to
examine the nature of images and ideas, and to note the part they play
in the mind's activities.

THE IMAGE AND THE IDEA.--To understand the nature of the image, and then
of the idea, we may best go back to the percept. You look at a watch
which I hold before your eyes and secure a percept of it. Briefly, this
is what happens: The light reflected from the yellow object, on striking
the retina, results in a nerve current which sets up a certain form of
activity in the cells of the visual brain area, and lo! a _percept_ of
the watch flashes in your mind.

Now I put the watch in my pocket, so that the stimulus is no longer
present to your eye. Then I ask you to think of my watch just as it
appeared as you were looking at it; or you may yourself choose to think
of it without my suggesting it to you. In either case _the cellular
activity in the visual area of the cortex is reproduced_ approximately
as it occurred in connection with the percept, and lo! an _image_ of the
watch flashes in your mind. An image is thus an approximate copy of a
former percept (or several percepts). It is aroused indirectly by means
of a nerve current coming by way of some other brain center, instead of
directly by the stimulation of a sense organ, as in the case of a
percept.

If, instead of seeking a more or less exact mental _picture_ of my
watch, you only think of its general _meaning_ and relations, the fact
that it is of gold, that it is for the purpose of keeping time, that it
was a present to me, that I wear it in my left pocket, you then have an
_idea_ of the watch. Our idea of an object is, therefore, the general
meaning of relations we ascribe to it. It should be remembered, however,
that the terms image and idea are employed rather loosely, and that
there is not yet general uniformity among writers in their use.

ALL OUR PAST EXPERIENCE POTENTIALLY AT OUR COMMAND.--Images may in a
certain sense take the place of percepts, and we can again experience
sights, sounds, tastes, and smells which we have known before, without
having the stimuli actually present to the senses. In this way all our
past experience is potentially available to the present. All the objects
we have seen, it is potentially possible again to see in the mind's eye
without being obliged to have the objects before us; all the sounds we
have heard, all the tastes and smells and temperatures we have
experienced, we may again have presented to our minds in the form of
mental images without the various stimuli being present to the
end-organs of the senses.

Through images and ideas the total number of objects in our experience
is infinitely multiplied; for many of the things we have seen, or heard,
or smelled, or tasted, we cannot again have present to the senses, and
without this power we would never get them again. And besides this fact,
it would be inconvenient to have to go and secure afresh each sensation
or percept every time we need to use it in our thought. While _habit_,
then, conserves our past experience on the physical side, the _image_
and the _idea_ do the same thing on the mental side.


3. INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES IN IMAGERY

IMAGES TO BE VIEWED BY INTROSPECTION.--The remainder of the description
of images will be easier to understand, for each of you can know just
what is meant in every case by appealing to your own mind. I beg of you
not to think that I am presenting something new and strange, a curiosity
connected with our thinking which has been discovered by scholars who
have delved more deeply into the matter than we can hope to do. Every
day--no, more than that, every hour and every moment--these images are
flitting through our minds, forming a large part of our stream of
consciousness. Let us see whether we can turn our attention within and
discover some of our images in their flight. Let us introspect.

I know of no better way to proceed than that adopted by Francis Galton
years ago, when he asked the English men of letters and science to think
of their breakfast tables, and then describe the images which appeared.
I am about to ask each one of you to do the same thing, but I want to
warn you beforehand that the images will not be so vivid as the sensory
experiences themselves. They will be much fainter and more vague, and
less clear and definite; they will be fleeting, and must be caught on
the wing. Often the image may fade entirely out, and the idea only be
left.

THE VARIED IMAGERY SUGGESTED BY ONE'S DINING TABLE.--Let each one now
recall the dining table as you last left it, and then answer questions
concerning it like the following:

Can I see clearly in my "mind's eye" the whole table as it stood spread
before me? Can I see all parts of it equally clearly? Do I get the snowy
white and gloss of the linen? The delicate coloring of the china, so
that I can see where the pink shades off into the white? The graceful
lines and curves of the dishes? The sheen of the silver? The brown of
the toast? The yellow of the cream? The rich red and dark green of the
bouquet of roses? The sparkle of the glassware?

Can I again hear the rattle of the dishes? The clink of the spoon
against the cup? The moving up of the chairs? The chatter of the voices,
each with its own peculiar pitch and quality? The twitter of a bird
outside the window? The tinkle of a distant bell? The chirp of a
neighborly cricket?

Can I taste clearly the milk? The coffee? The eggs? The bacon? The
rolls? The butter? The jelly? The fruit? Can I get the appetizing odor
of the coffee? Of the meat? The oranges and bananas? The perfume of the
lilac bush outside the door? The perfume from a handkerchief newly
treated to a spray of heliotrope?

Can I recall the touch of my fingers on the velvety peach? On the
smooth skin of an apple? On the fretted glassware? The feel of the fresh
linen? The contact of leather-covered or cane-seated chair? Of the
freshly donned garment? Can I get clearly the temperature of the hot
coffee in the mouth? Of the hot dish on the hand? Of the ice water? Of
the grateful coolness of the breeze wafted in through the open window?

Can I feel again the strain of muscle and joint in passing the heavy
dish? Can I feel the movement of the jaws in chewing the beefsteak? Of
the throat and lips in talking? Of the chest and diaphragm in laughing?
Of the muscles in sitting and rising? In hand and arm in using knife and
fork and spoon? Can I get again the sensation of pain which accompanied
biting on a tender tooth? From the shooting of a drop of acid from the
rind of the orange into the eye? The chance ache in the head? The
pleasant feeling connected with the exhilaration of a beautiful morning?
The feeling of perfect health? The pleasure connected with partaking of
a favorite food?

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