netful, and had fine times talking about 

 the making of stones — the crust of the 

 earth — former inhabitants, the great ice 

 age, and such simple geology as they 

 could understand; and they did under- 

 stand; that did not end it. We studied 

 plants in the same way; physics and 

 chemistry, with home-made apparatus. 

 Of course, it all took time, and a good 

 deal of it; and there wasn't any extra 

 pay for it, either; but there are labors 

 whose recompense is far more precious 

 than dollars and cents. 



And so I find enthusiasm also for out- 

 door science, among secondary pupils 

 and among the great body of intelli- 

 gent people of our cities; and if nature 

 is so accessible, and pupils are so eager 

 for its secrets, and we still worship 

 books and ignore the visible objects 

 and forces so freely at our disposal, 

 there is no other conclusion to arrive 

 at, except that the teacher himself is 

 either too ignorant or too indolent to 

 make proper use of them. It takes 

 time; it needs enthusiasm; it needs a 

 genuine love for the subject in hand, 

 and a profound interest in and sym- 

 pathy with the student. 



The subjects in which field work may 

 be made very useful are geography, 

 geology, botany, and zoology, and the 

 objects are, of course, apparent to all. 

 First, it cultivates a familiarity with 

 nature, which is wholesome and desir- 

 able. We are living in an artificial age. 

 Children nowadays get too much pocket 

 money; there is too much theater; too 

 much smartness; too much flabbiness 

 for the real business of life; too much 

 blas6 yawning; too many parties; too 

 much attention to dress; the color of 

 the necktie; the crease of the trowsers, 

 or the make of a gown. The only 

 meaning science has for many of the 

 richer classes is the curved ball of the 

 pitcher, the maneuvers of the quarter- 

 back, or the manly art of self-defense. 



I know of nothing that will counter- 

 act the indifference of parents and lead 

 the young mind back to a simpler and 

 more humanizing condition of life than 

 to make it familiar with old mother 

 earth, the stream, the valley, the tree, 

 the flower, and the bird. 



Another object of field work is to 

 develop habits of correct observation. 

 Pupils ordinarily take too much for 



granted. They will swallow anything 

 that is printed in a book, or that the 

 teacher may choose to tell, always pro- 

 viding the pupil is sufficiently awake to 

 perform the function. It is hadly an 

 exaggeration that they would believe 

 the moon was made of green cheese, 

 providing the statement came with 

 august solemnity from the teacher's 

 chair. There is too hasty generaliz- 

 ation and a prevailing unwillingness to 

 careful examination. Careful field work 

 opens the eye and corrects much of 

 this slovenly mode of thinking, creates 

 honest doubt, and questions an unsup- 

 portedstatement. The pupil wants to see 

 the pollen on the bee before he believes 

 in cross-fertilization; he wants to see 

 rocks actually in layers before he will 

 believe they could have been deposited 

 in water, and he pounds up a fragment 

 of sandstone to get at the original sand; 

 he wants to see the actual castings be- 

 fore he will believe all that Darwin 

 says about his wonderful earthworms; 

 and few things escape the eye of the 

 pupils who go out with the understand- 

 ing that it is business and their duty to 

 observe and take notes. 



Another object of field study is to 

 see' life in its environment. Stuffed 

 birds and animals m cases are all very 

 good; shells look pretty behind nice 

 glass doors, and herbaria play a very 

 important part; yet, after all, how much 

 better to see a thrush's flight; to hear 

 the pewee's song; how much more sat- 

 isfactory to watch a snail creep and 

 feed; how much more delightful to 

 study the blossoming hepatica; to note 

 its various leaves, its soil, its surround- 

 ings, and discover why it blooms at the 

 very opening of springtime. 



More can be learned from a handful 

 of pebbles on the beach than a whole 

 book written upon the same subject. 



Yet another object is to acquire 

 specific information not contained in 

 books. The feel of a leaf, the odor of 

 the honeysuckle, or the pine, the cry 

 of the kingfisher, the locomotion of a 

 horse, and the locomotion of a cow, the 

 formation of miniature gorges in a rain 

 storm, and the wearing of a shore 

 under the action of the waves, these 

 and countless other manifestations can 

 never be described in mere words. — The 

 School Journal. 



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