EX SCIENTIA TRIDENS
By Lieut.-Commander C. B. Vroom, U. S. Navy
Now that Edison has invented a machine for communicating with the dead, perhaps we shall be able to savvy math.—The Log.
The natural reply to this variation of a standard joke (since math, in our technical profession, is very much alive), is well?
I
Every year the problem of education becomes a trifle more difficult, because of the increasing demands of the service. That difficulty is to be met only by consolidation and co-ordination of the departments for the purpose of cutting down duplication and consequent waste of time.
There is, however, another difficulty, one that as yet has received no consideration, or at least none that has resulted in improvement. For ourselves we admit that the basis of the alleged joke exists in fact, and that the main difficulty for immature minds (and not a few maturer ones, our own included) is the inability to look upon the several branches of science as living things, as they are presented.
That this difficulty exists there is plenty of evidence. In the field of pure science, mathematics for instance, nothing new has appeared for years. Yet the flood of text books continues to rise, and to date no satisfactory ones have been found. The newest differs from its predecessor in binding and arrangement, and will be succeeded by yet another in a year or two. Its contemporary generation of students will consider it as a tomb, and the Log of that day will furnish a suitable epitaph.
It is proposed to examine the subject of education from the point of view that the mission of the Naval Academy does not change; that the material never varies; and that an educational institution that exists solely for the purpose of supplying thoroughly trained engineers (in the broad sense) does not completely fulfill that mission. That the same condition exists as regards the universities is shown by the frequent discussions that appear as the value of the university-trained man compared with the man who has not had a higher education than grammar- or high-school. Perhaps the colleges can do no better than they are doing; at any rate the majority of executives are dubious as to any special advantage attaching to a college education. It has frequently been stated that a college graduate must spend as many years learning after he has graduated, as the man who enters the business world as a high-school graduate. Not only that, but he frequently has to unlearn some ideas that he absorbs in college.
Of course the navy must have men who have a thorough technical training that only the Naval Academy can provide. The point is, that the Naval Academy has a tremendous advantage that the universities do not have. It can turn out men who are maturer than the average college graduate; and it can see to it that there shall be no ideas to be unlearned. There is one course in the curriculum not taught elsewhere; responsibility. There are really two sorts of education; one that prepares the student for a definite occupation, and one that fulfills the literal meaning of the word, namely, to lead out the minds of the student. If some of the notions, ideas, and characteristics of the adolescent mind that generally persist throughout student days can be corrected during the course at the Naval Academy, instead of allowing the hard school of experience to do it after graduation (as the colleges are forced to do), two ends are gained; the graduate becomes of some practical value much sooner, and, he gets more out of his technical course of instruction, while he is an undergraduate. The characteristics of the immature mind have been summarized to include supreme indifference, a lack of appreciation of responsibility, superciliousness, and lack of judgment. All of which are childlike qualities. The imposition of responsibility is the best corrective.
The mission of the Naval Academy can be summarized in a few sentences; to send out to the fleets young men trained in scientific methods and the use of books, with sufficient technical knowledge to become proficient in the various branches of engineering that they will be called upon to practice; and with correct ideas of personal responsibility, and a wholesome regard for the traditions and unwritten laws of the service in the matter of personal honor and conduct.
The raw material never varies, considered in the mass—at least not appreciably. One eighteen-year-old boy is pretty much like another, the world over, so far as his mental qualities are concerned; he may, and does, vary enormously in mental capacity. But he is far from being mature, whatever he may think of himself. He has the stature of a man, but several unmistakable qualities of a child. One of the most important duties of the Naval Academy is to eradicate the childish qualities. It must be recognized that to do this in four years is in itself quite a task (one that the colleges have not found possible); also that an immature mind cannot reason logically. Yet, from the first, it is necessary to begin the technical and scientific education demanded by the naval profession; to present abtruse subjects in large doses to minds bewildered, unaccustomed to reasoning, and in too many cases, not sufficiently grounded. This is the second difficulty heretofore mentioned.
II
The methods of presentation of the subjects taught have been frequently discussed ; it might be said incessantly argued. Probably there are as many opinions as there are officers. As to whether officers who are not especially interested are as competent instructors as they ought to be, is another question much discussed. There is no question but that they ought to be as competent as civilian specialists, and there are some subjects that they are especially fitted to teach, such as navigation and ordnance. It depends largely upon the individual. There is this difference between teaching in civil institutions and the government academies; in the former the instructor must be thoroughly equipped; in the latter he may be merely a referee between the student and the letter of the text.
Are text books all that they should be? Do they present in as clear a light as possible, for the consumption of immature minds, the essential points and facts of their respective subjects? Or do they convey the general impression given in the alleged joke at the beginning of this article? We incline to the belief that nearly all text books, especially in technical subjects, are written in a "style" best calculated to discourage a seeker after truth, let alone a harassed, bewildered youth. Lincoln's method, in analyzing the political questions of his day for the erudition of assorted audiences was "Speak so that the lowest may understand; the rest will have no difficulty." Not a bad method for educators to adopt in their works.
How many and many a time have you followed through an elucidation and brought up against "Therefore it is obvious," followed by a string of symbols that were not obvious? If you happened to be looking up something that you needed, you probably went to someone to explain it; but if you happened to be a midshipman, you memorized that string of symbols; it was here today and gone tomorrow, a nebulous equation without any particular meaning or connection with anything past or to come. That a proper understanding of that principle might be necessary for further use was a matter of supreme indifference.
Frequently the very English is obscure; legions of technical terms appear without the slightest attempt to define them. The student is bewildered by words of whose meaning he has not the slightest idea, used to demonstrate propositions obvious only to the writer, who assumes mental processes similar to his own, not to mention an interest and scientific knowledge that the beginner, old and young, has not got.
The argument is often advanced that digging the work out is part of the instruction. It will not be dug out. The student as a general rule has neither the time (especially in the Naval Academy) nor the interest (in any undergraduate institution). In elementary text books every fact should be so clearly demonstrated that any one old enough to study the subject at all shall understand it; every technical term should be clearly defined. Every reasonable means should be employed to force home the fact or principle; if homely simile or colloquial language will make it stick in the memory, then abandon the formal style of science. Plenty of seventeen-year-olds can see at a glance the theory of a see-saw, who are shy with the "theory of moments" even after being properly introduced to it. Of course this is not propaganda to have physics set to music or astronomy put into nursery rhymes. It is simply an argument to the effect that immature minds cannot have facts too plainly set before them, or too forcefully driven home. Memory is largely a matter of association, except in the case of the parrot.
Inasmuch as nearly all textbooks used at the Naval Academy are either written or prepared (with due acknowledgement) by naval officers, the matter lies entirely in the hands of the navy. Text books come and are supplanted; the material is the same.
III
The problem of classroom technique is harder than the text book difficulty. For a given class in a given year there is one text book; but twenty instructors. An arrangement whereby an instructor handled about ten students would be the best, under the Naval Academy system, and further, offers the greatest possibilities. But even with no more than ten to a section, it is practically an impossibility for an instructor to assure himself that every midshipman has got the essence of the day's assignment. If the instructor attempts to answer every question that every midshipman wants to ask—those who have tried it know what the range would be—he finds that the students are adepts at killing time, and that a general discussion of the day's lesson quickly becomes a covert criticism of the course in general, and the last examination in particular—and here we have another manifestation of the childish mind. This is one extreme; the other is the system of refereeing between the midshipmen and the book. Somewhere between, lies the best method. The best has to be discovered by each instructor for himself; and this is an argument often used by those who hold that a civilian is a better instructor than an officer; by the time that the latter has evolved the best method, he goes to sea again.
Week after week, when the marks are posted, the sections run to a surprising similarity of proficiency, due to three factors: the policy of the department as to what the midshipmen ought to do; what the instructors think the midshipmen are doing, and because the sections are pretty much alike. The sections run to an average, but there is probably no such thing as an average midshipman. That is to say, in any section there are best minds, mediocrity, and the submerged tenth. The first run true to form consistently—superior mental capacity, industry, and maturity. The last are equally consistent—dull, childish, careless, indifferent. Mediocrity is in the majority; he is the instructor's real problem, the fellow who is trying, but cannot quite keep the pace for any one of a number of reasons that it is the instructor's duty to discover if he can. There is not much use in wasting time with the hopeless element; if it is not hopeless because it wants to be, there is always the extra instruction period. The point is to get the lesson across to mediocrity. It is easy to find out how much the bright men know; how little the indifferent or stupid man knows, but it is extremely hard to find out exactly what mediocrity does not know; why he does not, and then see to it that he does, all in one recitation hour.
The usual argument that midshipmen must be given a mark and therefore there is no time for instruction is a good one: provided the mark is intended to strike an exact balance every recitation between the midshipmen and the book. Even so, with a large number of instructors there is certain to be a wide divergence of methods, and in any case there can be some attempt at standardization, if only by informal discussion and the formulation of a departmental policy, or, better yet, a Naval Academy policy. But it is not admitted that every midshipman should have a mark every recitation, based solely on what he is able to commit to memory and retain long enough to put on the board. His mark for the month, including the examination mark, should show his proficiency, as well as aptitude, industry and interest. Nor does he necessarily have to know when he is to be given a mark, because some of him (collectively speaking) would prepare especially for the occasion, being human, and immature to boot. There is no intention of formulating a best method, but there is no harm in starting an informal discussion.
Suppose, to utilize a recitation hour to the best advantage, a section (after the usual questions regarding the next examination are answered), is given a written recitation. At the end of twenty minutes the majority (all but the submerged tenth and some of mediocrity) will have finished, and the remainder of the hour can be devoted to instruction. All the points of the day's assignment can be brought out, discussed, explained, in the course of cross-examination; and incidentally points of previous lessons that have a direct bearing on the current work. Ambiguities in the text (there are plenty of them) will appear, and can be cleared up at once. Thus the individuals will not have the excuse that they cannot understand the text, but best of all, abstruse subjects will be brought to life because some interest can be injected into them, and a machine for communicating with the dead will not be needed. If marks are to be assigned, there is the written recitation as a basis.
IV
The best instrument for teaching responsibility, and for developing latent mature mental qualities, is the summer practice cruise. If conducted solely in the interest of training, it is a course with possibilities beside which the summer field courses of the best technical schools fade to insignificance. Theoretically the cruise is conducted in the interest of midshipmen; practically it accomplishes scarcely a single aim. This conclusion may seem to be a hasty and radical condemnation of a part of the Academy course that is well established and generally carefully planned. Perhaps it should be qualified in the sense that the possibilities are not attained, however well the planning may have been done. In view of the fact that the character and results of any given cruise often depend on the exigencies of the Navy, it may be that this non-attainment is unavoidable. Nevertheless the great importance of undergraduate training seems to be in itself an exigency of the service, upon which some others might be made to wait.
What can the cruise accomplish, besides the inculcation of the sea-habit and the laws of the navy? For one thing, it can take the technical subjects, even math, out of the classroom, and infuse some of the color of life into them, but only by making the student see for himself that there is some real connection between theory as taught in books, and practice in handling the machinery of a ship. Plenty of people ride in street-cars who know nothing and care less about the motors that make the wheels go round; plenty of midshipmen return to September leave with no more tangible acquisition than a handful of suitcase labels. They have been passengers. There is no denying that they have stood watches; that is, as rather bored spectators; such interest as the street-car passenger feels when something goes wrong.
The conclusions as to the practical value of the cruise are based on the observation of seven practice cruises, including one in a sailing ship; three that were carried out in a squadron officered and commanded by officers in immediate touch with the Naval Academy; two in which midshipmen were distributed to ships of the fleet, and one for which a division of the fleet was assigned for that purpose. The latter is perhaps not a fair criterion because of the peculiarly unfortunate itinerary and enlisted personnel situation.
The best system is unquestionably the organization of a practice squadron composed of ships suitable to the purpose, not any that happen to be available regardless of fitness. Have it commanded and officered by the Naval Academy personnel. Then co-ordinate the summer's work with the Naval Academy instruction, and make that schedule as rigid as the schedule of classroom work, not to be broken except under circumstances that cannot reasonably be foreseen. Throw the note books overboard; anybody who can write can copy information out of a text book. Make the midshipmen do the work to run those ships, and rate them on ability, interest, and personal character, just as in the case of the performance of duty by commissioned officers, choosing standards suitable to the age and experience of the students.
The practice of sending undergraduate midshipmen to the fleet is the paramount consideration, the needs of the midshipmen a very small one indeed. The midshipmen gain false impressions in the fleet. As they are unable to realize that they are not officers, but officers in an extremely qualified sense, they are aggrieved if not allowed the privileges and comforts of the steerage. Last and most Important, they either become stop-gaps to fill vacancies in enlisted personnel, or they are essentially passengers. They get no responsibility; no practical training with their hands (except on the end of a shovel, perhaps). Why? Because no commanding officer in a ship in the fleet is going to risk his fitness report on bad steering, worse signaling, and poor engineering performance. But steering and hundreds of other matters are arts not to be acquired by observation or book-learning. The business of the fleet, preparation for war, can hardly be subordinated to the training of undergraduates. The result is that the midshipmen become messengers when they are on watch, or at most learn to read a stadimeter. In a practice ship, under proper supervision, correction and instruction, the midshipmen can make all the mistakes that every one must make while learning, before going out to assume full responsibility. Furthermore, in the matter of the practice cruise, select an itinerary such that the ends of instruction, diversion, and reasonable recreation are best served. The wishes of chambers of commerce might well be made secondary considerations.