much a part of one's self one's name is felt to be. To trace the development of the concept of mind and soul among primitive races is a highly interesting bit of work. Language which involves so many early notions aids us here and we are not surprised to find the words that mean soul or mind, spirit or self are but metaphors in which the early man sought a symbol under which to express his meaning. Thus the root-words are found to signify breath and fog, picture and shadow, wind and echo. For the child, it would seem from recent studies, the first idea of the self is that of volitional attitude or a feeling of appropriation. Later, the child assigns meaning to the objective appearance of himself as body, and in the process of adopting this as his own, he too, as the primitive man, makes use of the photograph and the reflection in the mirror, of the shadow and the personal man. Nowhere, perhaps, are the meshes of meaning and symbol more closely interwoven than in the idea of self and its garmenting imagery. The psychologist has not yet sounded the significance of such symbolism but it will be worth his while to do so. No doubt he will find in the thinking of the twentieth-century man frequent reversions to those symbols that in racial experience have played such an important part in the development of the conception of mind and spirit, immortality and individuality. Philosophical Department, JUNE E. DOWNEY An Experience with a Subnormal Child RANK, a subnormal boy, thirteen years of age, entered my second grade room two years ago. When I first FRAN saw him I was struck by the bewildered, distressed expression of his countenance and by the shuffling uncertain way in which he moved. The Child Study Department had been interested in him for some time and had contemplated advising his mother to send him to Lincoln, Illinois, to the institution for the feeble-minded. My first endeavor was to make him feel at home, to make him feel that he "belonged." At first he was able to come for half a day only and often became so weary that he was obliged to go home before the close of the session. He was too timid to join in the games and play of the other children. I noticed, however, that he seemed quite interested in the Ring Toss game. The movement, the bright colored rings falling so easily and gracefully into place on the spindle seemed to give him pleasure. But on being invited to play he vehemently refused. After a while I said in a casual way, "Come on, Frank, it's your turn," and he played, very awkwardly, very unsuccessfully, but he played, and I said "Try it again," and he tried again and has played gladly, even eagerly, ever since. Through this game and other games like it he has gained a measure of self-control with a certain alertness of mind and body which were far from being his at first. His greatest gain has been a consciousness of power, and when one of the little children remarked that Frank was a "champeen" player his joy was great. Through these games he has also gained a considerable facility in number. Frank has never cared for the construction work of his class. He has had to be coaxed into it. At first he refused to handle clay, saying that it made him shiver to touch it. I did not urge the matter but one day suggested that he help get the clay ready for use the next day. He was glad to do that and handled the clay freely, working it into neat balls. Since then he has used the clay with his class. I have felt that, while in many ways Frank was far behind the other children, he had outgrown or lost some of the instincts characteristic of second grade children. He cared nothing for paper tearing, cutting, or folding, though he liked to work with colored crayon on paper, achieving very crude results. He enjoyed making great pictures on the blackboard, doing very nicely there, whether in illustrating some favorite story or in picturing some experience of his own. This year I was convinced that he needed more mature work; and it was arranged so that he worked in the manual training shop an hour or more once a week. He has enjoyed the work, and with some assistance and much encouragement, has constructed a substantial bookrack. Both the boy and his mother have been anxious that he should learn to read and write. When he came to me he did not know one printed word from another and his speaking vocabulary was meagre. Nothing could be done for him in class, so I took him alone for weeks-I have forgotten how many. He could stand only about seven minutes at a time. As he grew stronger mentally that time was gradually increased, and for the last year or more I arranged matters so as to give him half an hour of individual help every day. I have not confined myself to any one method in teaching him but have employed any or every method or expedient that I could make use of. At first we attempted only the very simplest lessons in the Holton Primer and other little books of that kind, choosing stories as dramatic as possible. After he had gained some skill in reading he showed a great deal of interest in some Japanese Folk Tales which I happened at that time to be telling to the children. One, the story of the Magic Tea Kettle, seemed to be particularly fascinating to him. Having a version of this story quite simply and dramatically told, I asked Frank if he would like to read this story for himself and then surprise his mother by reading it to her. Yes, indeed he would, so for many days Frank and I pegged away at the story. To encourage him I promised that when he had read the whole story (three pages in length) that I should give him a book containing that and other stories like it for his own. At last he read the story through and read it well. I gave him the book and never shall I forget the look of pride and joy that illuminated that boy's face. Since then he has labored on and now reads fairly well. He writes fairly well too. He has written almost invariably of his own experiences, telling me, for instance, of what he had done on Saturday or Sunday or of his work in the shop. I have found it necessary to give him much assistance in this work. When he wishes to use a word which he cannot spell I write the word for him, then erase, or cover it, and he tries to reproduce it. This often has to be done again and again, but we keep at it. Frank is left-handed and writes in a rather cramped hand, but his writing is quite legible. He has struggled hard to attain to such poor skill as he has. I have found that to say "Come on, old man, you can do this, I know you can" has often had a heartening effect and to laugh with him at his blunder saying, "That's a joke on you, Frank," has helped. Although inclined to be all too serious Frank has enjoyed school. The association with other children, the contact with so many eager, inquiring young minds, the kindly interest of student-teachers and others, the games and stories, the general exercises in the hall, the whole life of the school has helped him; his spirit that was slumbering has been awakened, he has lost the shuffling gait, the dazed, distressed look, and has gained power in different directions. Normal Practice School Chicago Normal School H. AVIS PErdue THE WORLD'S TRIUMPH. Book Review A Play. Prologue-Five Acts-Epilogue. By Louis James Block. I. B. Lippincott Company. It is well when one of the teaching profession finds intellectual pleasure in other than the school curriculum. It is better still when one of the profession reaches toward the higher forms of literature, even to the symbolical play. Professor Block must be placed where only the few either in the profession or out of it dare to come-the realm of the poetic drama. There are several possible interpretations of The World's Triumph. The main significance of it is implied in the prologue, or better still in the verses from Shelley in the title page: "To love and bear; to hope till hope creates To dramatize this truth, Professor Block has chosen a mediaeval Italian town for his setting. The mediaevalism is impersonated in Fiordimonda, a kind of Joan of Arc, who is inspired to aid the Duke in his difficult task of bringing a better life to his subjects. It is he who is the mouthpiece of the advanced social aims, familiar to us in the economic theory and the idealistic literature of the age. His marriage with the mystic maid symbolizes thh union of the old and the new. The play is a succession of scenes without any plot idea of chain or sequence, other than that supplied by the dialogue, which from beginning to end, is the philosophic type, belonging in spirit at least with Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, George Eliot's Spanish Gypsy, and Mrs. Browning's Aurora Leigh. This idealism it is pleasant to meet again, even though it invites comparison with three of the most ardent spirits of English literature. The most generous reader in judging the poetry of this play, can heartily praise Professor Block for his thorough absorption of the exalted manner of his models. He must praise him, too, for his grasp of the thoroughly advanced thought of the day, which he has very cogently expressed in the prologue. E. F. |