WHAT IS EDUCATION? by John Ogden

Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Thursday, January 29, 1880

FromThe Review and Herald, Vol. 55, No. 5

WHAT IS EDUCATION?

By John Ogden

WHAT a question to ask in this enlightened age! Does not every school boy know? Does not every parent know? Isn’t it in every dictionary? Isn’t it in the vocabulary of every school girl? And yet few know, and fewer practice, its precepts. It is not our purpose to define it technically, nor to treat it in all its phases. But we wish to convict some erroneous views respecting it. It is not unfrequently the case, that we hear persons talking about education as though it were something to put on, and be worn as a garment; by others it is spoken of as a kind of trick, or sleight of hand, to help one make an easy living. By some, again, it is regarded as a kind of polite accomplishment, to make one appear well in society.

But the most general idea, one that enters into all the others, and determines largely our practice in school duties, is that it is merely the acquisition of knowledge, usually of a given kind, the cramming of the memory with facts and principles, without much regard to their topical or chronological relation and dependence. These are to be stowed away so that they can be brought forth on given occasions and aired, as ladies air their wardrobes, on sunny days. They are then to be stowed away again, and only used on grand occasions.

Knowledge used in this way soon becomes thin and vapid, and neglected, and forgotten. Hence we often hear it said, “I have forgotten all my Greek and geometry.” “My chemistry and physics, logic and metaphysics, have all been covered up and lost in the business of the office, the farm, the work-shop, the home.” Now this may be true, to a very great extent, and it does not speak well for the institution nor the instruction, when such is the case. But I am apprehensive these persons forget that their education, however imperfect it may be, is not their knowledge, nor their Greek, nor their geometry, nor anything of this sort; any more than the food they eat is a part of the living body, or the tools they work with are a part of their trade or occupation.

These sciences are only the means of culture; they have simply growth caused by their use, by the mastering of facts, and the acquisition of knowledge. So that the carpenter who laments the loss of his Greek forgets that its results remain, and may express themselves in his neatness and exactness in joints and tenons, in column, frieze and architrave, in temple and dome. The farmer forgets that his geometry may appear in the straightened furrow, or better drainage, in garden walks, or tasteful lawns; that his chemistry may appear in his knowledge of soils, and other ingredients, and in better crops. The lawyer forgets that his logic and philosophy have given him a decided advantage in the battle he is to wage against wrong. The school-master forgets that his metaphysics and Latin enable him better to understand the nature of the human mind, and to lead it into a higher appreciation of “the pure, the beautiful, and the good.” Education, therefore, is a species of growth; and this growth is regulated by antecedents and present causes. It is also subject to degrees. It is not alone the acquisition of knowledge. This is only one of the conditions of growth, as one physical food is only a condition of the growth of the body. But no one will undertake to say that this physical food may not be so perverted from its legitimate uses as to create derangement and disease in the system. No one will undertake to prove that it may not be given in such unreasonable quantities as to produce stupefaction and even death. And yet our bodily stomachs and appetites are less liable to derangement than our mental and moral. And when we take into the account that other fact, viz., that it is more difficult to prepare and rightly adjust the mental food, to cater to the real wants of the mind, than to those of the body, the importance of the case is much enhanced. It is not surprising, at all, that we witness perversion, distortion, disease and even death, when the sacred truths regulating the machinery of the human mind and body—for the one must suffer with the other—are committed to careless, inefficient, and sometimes wicked, hands for culture. If there is such a thing as mismanagement (and who can doubt it?), there must also be such a thing as perverted growth; and education is growth. Education may therefore be perverted and still be education. It may be extensive, even, and still weak; and it may be strong and still vicious. It may be thorough and concise, as applied to the intellect alone, and still be dangerous, and all the more so, from its thoroughness. The intellect may be clean even to brilliancy, and the heart corrupt. The judgment may be sound, and the will weak and vacillating. The imagination may be fervid, and the passions untamed. The taste may be fastidiously refined and cultivated, and the conscience as dark as Erebus. So that it is not always safe to form our opinions upon the basis of intelligence alone. Neither is it always safe to intrust our children to skilled hands; for these may be skilled in crime.

Education is, moreover, a former of character, but it must be remembered, this character may be either good or bad, determined largely by the degree and quality of the education. A little good is, therefore, better than much bad. It is powerful only as it is directed by skill and experience. But it must not be forgotten that it may be powerful alike for good or evil. It may stab the nation’s heart, or it may stand guard over its dearest interests. Its excellence depends more upon the quality than upon its quantity. Let us therefore look to the quality of it.—John Ogden, Ohio Central Normal School, Worthington, O.