KINDERGARTEN CULTURE 
IN THE 
FAMILY AND KINDERGAHTEN: 
A Complete Sketch of Froebel’s System of Early Educa- 
tion, Adapted to American Institutions. 
FOR THE USE OP 
MOTHERS AND TEACHERS. 
BY 
-W. U. HAILMAS, A..M. 
HI 
mith 12 Jlap: 
WILSON, HINKLE & CO., 
137 Waisdt Steset, 28 Bond Steebt, 
CINCINNATI. NEW YORK. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
WILSON, HINKLE & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
ELECTROTYPED AT THE FRANKLIN TYPE FOUNDRY, CINCINNATI. PREFACE. 
Frederic Froebel was born on the 21st of April, 
1782, at Oberweissbach, a village of a small German 
principality in Thuringia, one of the most romantic 
portions of Central Germany. He lost his mother at 
an early age, and his father, who was pastor of a num- 
ber of village churches scattered in the district, had no 
leisure for the care and education of his children. He 
was therefore left in the charge of servants and older 
brothers until his fourth year, when his hither took a 
second wife. At first, his new mother requited the 
tender yearnings of his child-like love, but her affection 
was turned almost into hatred when her own son began 
to claim her maternal care. Thus he Avas soon driven to 
that earnest communion with himself and nature 
which, in rich souls and in the absence of corrupting 
influences, breeds strength and independence of char- 
acter, intensity and Avarmth of feeling. 
In his tenth year, he Avas intrusted to a relative for 
the purpose of education; in his fifteenth, he was 
apprenticed to a forester; in his eighteenth, he entered 
the university of Jena, Avhere he devoted himself IV 
PREFACE. 
mainly to natural science and mathematics. Disgust 
and poverty brought him home, two years afterward. 
He took refuge in farming on the estate of a relative, 
but his father’s sickness called him home again the 
next year. After his father’s death, which occurred in 
the same year, he made his living, in the space of three 
years, successively, as secretary in a forest-office, as civil 
engineer, and again as secretary of two great agri- 
cultural estates. At last he concluded to become 
an architect, and went for this purpose to Frankfort-on- 
the-Main. 
Here his destiny overtook him. While waiting for an 
opening, he earned his bread by giving private lessons. 
He became acquainted with the teachers of the “ Model 
School,” and was introduced by them to its principal, 
Gruner. “ I met here,” he writes in his autobiography, 
“ a number of young men, wdro engaged in cheerful and 
candid conversation, of which life and its vicissitudes 
soon formed the burden. I spoke frankly, gave myself 
as I was, as I knew myself and did not know myself.” 
“Oh,” said Gruner, “you must give up architecture; it 
is not for you. Become an educator. We need a teacher 
in our school; if you agree to it, you shall have the 
position.” After some hesitation, he accepted, and edu- 
cational progress had gained one of its brightest gems. 
That he discovered, at the same time, the long-sought 
road to his own happiness, is indicated in the following 
wrords: “ When I found myself for the first time among 
my young pupils, I was exceedingly happy. I felt that 
I had at last entered, as it were, the element for which I 
had yearned so long.” 
The mighty influence of Pestalozzi’s self-sacrificing PREFACE. 
V 
labors had already been felt; indeed, he was rapidly 
approaching the pinnacle of his glory; Gruner himself 
had been a pupil of Pestalozzi: so that young Froebel 
could not resist his ardent desire of basking in the 
direct rays of the new luminary. He took advantage of 
a short vacation in 1805, to spend two weeks in Pesta- 
lozzi’s school at Yverdun, whence he returned full of en- 
thusiasm for the Swiss reformer. 
In 1808, he returned to Yverdun with two pupils, the 
sons of a wealthy family of Frankfort, and taught and 
learned for two years, not in Pestalozzi’s institution, yet 
in the immediate vicinity, and under the immediate in- 
fluence of Pestalozzi. But while his stay served to in- 
crease his enthusiasm for Pestalozzi, it failed to make 
him a blind, contented follower of the great teacher. 
A hewer of his own path, a self-made man, accustomed 
to respect no authority but that of clear insight, he es- 
teemed and loved in Pestalozzi the discoverer of new 
principles and methods of teaching; but these princi- 
ples and methods needed a wider scope, more universal 
application, in order to rise to the dignity of a system 
of human education. 
To establish such a system on the basis of morality 
and reason, of religion and humanity, became the object 
of his life. In order to fit himself better for this vast 
undertaking, he concluded to return to the university, 
and passed three years at Goettingen and at Berlin. 
Here the resistless storm of patriotism which, in 1813, 
hurled the youth of Germany against Napoleonic op- 
pression, and which resulted in the downfall of the Cor- 
sican conqueror, interrupted his labors for a time: he, 
too, joined a corps of volunteers. But he Avas richly VI 
PREFACE. 
compensated for the apparent loss of time in the gain.of 
two friends, Middendorff and Langethal, who became 
his faithful colleagues in his subsequent educational 
work. 
In 1816 he established an educational institute at 
Griesheim, which he removed in the following year to 
Keilhau, in his native Thuringia. Here he was joined 
by Middendorff and Langethal, and the three strove 
steadily in the pursuit of FroebeFs ideal. In this 
period he began his literary labors, and published a 
number of writings which, while they lack philosophic 
depth, calmness, and method, teem with wise sugges- 
tions, and reflect the great love and lofty aspirations 
that animated him. The check which his institute had 
suffered in consequence of persecutions on the part of 
reactionary authorities, induced him to emigrate to 
Switzerland in 1831. Here he worked with varying 
success until 1836, when he returned to Germany. 
At Blankenburg, in his native state, he established in 
1837 an educational institute, and opened in 1840 the 
first kindergarten. He devoted the remainder of his 
life to the establishment of similar institutions else- 
where, and to earnest pleadings for their general intro- 
duction, and died on the 21st of July, 1852. 
After FroebeFs death, it was principally the Baroness 
Marenholtz-Biilow that devoted herself to the continua- 
tion of his work. Gifted with indomitable energy, a 
rare power of endurance and self-sacrifice, aided by a 
liberal education and by a conception of kindergarten 
culture, deeper, broader, and clearer than that of the 
great master himself, she had the proud satisfaction, in 
a few years after FroebeFs death, of having interested PREFACE. 
all the civilized nations of Europe in the “ new educa- 
tion.” Thanks, mostly, to her personal presence and 
efforts, France, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, England, 
Russia, have established kindergarten culture more or 
less extensively, Italy is about to make it a portion of 
her national system of education, and Austria has incor- 
porated it with her public-school system. 
In our own country, too, avc owe the first permanent 
impression in favor of kindergarten culture to a lady, 
Miss Eliza P. Peabody, Avho, aided by her sister, Mrs. 
Horace Mann, published the Kindergarten Guide a few 
years ago. They Avere joined in their efforts by Mr. 
Wiebe, the translator of Goldammer’s Manual, Mrs. 
Kriege, of Boston, Mrs. Ploedterll, of Ncav York, Mr. 
John Kraus, of Washington, Dr. Douai, of NeAvark, and 
others; but success has, heretofore, been too sporadic to 
do justice to the earnestness of these pioneers; and, as 
yet, kindergarten culture has not succeeded in conquer- 
ing a permanent place in any of our public-school or- 
ganizations. 
Although this is not the proper place for a definition 
of kindergarten culture, it is, nevertheless, necessary to 
correct at the outset a feAV misapprehensions AA’hich have 
undoubtedly done much to hinder its diffusion. In the 
first place, kindergarten culture Avould not supplant 
family education; on the contrary, it Avould improve 
family education and place it on a sound basis. For 
this purpose, Froebel has suggested, and to some extent 
organized, in connection Avith kindergartens, pedagogic 
seminaries for the training, not so much of kindergar- 
teners, as of young girls—future mothers—in the art of 
educating little children. At the same time, the kin- VIII 
PREFACE. 
dergarten proper offers the child an opportunity for 
social culture, for intercourse with its equals in age and 
powers. 
Again, the kindergarten must not be confounded, 
either in its nature or in its aims, with certain chari- 
table institutions whose object is the care and training 
of neglected or pauper children, or of the children of 
laboring people during working hours institutions 
which existed in various countries, under various 
names, long before the kindergarten. It is true, that 
kindergarten culture can make these institutions a 
much greater blessing, and for this reason it has been 
introduced in many of them. But, on the other hand, 
it forms an indispensable link in a harmonious system 
of education, equally adapted to all human beings, 
equally necessary to the full development of all the 
powers of every child. 
My object in writing this little book is twofold : In 
the first place, I desire to present to earnest mothers and 
teachers a concise sketch of the entire system, in such a 
form that the connection between it and other impor- 
tant educational factors may stand out prominentljq and 
that mothers and teachers may, at the same time, find 
enough practical suggestions to enable them to test the 
merits of the system without injury to the little ones. 
In the next place, I desire to present to the authorities 
that control public instruction, an attempt to adapt the 
system of Froebel to the wants and peculiarities of our 
own public schools, omitting some features that seemed 
foreign to the spirit of our institutions, and modifying 
others in accordance with these institutions, as they 
appear to me. PREFACE. 
For the historical portions of my work, I am indebted 
mainly to the History of Pedagogy, by Carl von Raumer, 
Dr. Carl Schmidt's History of Pedagogy, edited by Wichard 
Lange, and Henry Barnard's Journal of Education; in the 
technical portions I was guided mostly by GoldammePs 
Manual. CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER I. 
Introductory Remarks—Aim of the New Education . . 13 
CHAPTER 11. 
CHAPTER 11. 
Proximate Ends and Methods of the New Education . . 27 
Kindergarten Culture in the Family—Earliest Period—First 
and Second Gifts . 38 
CHAPTER ITT. 
CHAPTER 111. 
CHAPTER IV. 
CHAPTER IV. 
Kindergarten Culture in the Family—Third, Fourth, Fifth, and 
Sixth Gifts . . ........ 55 
CHAPTER V. 
Kindergarten Culture in the Family—Tablets, Sticks, Peas . 68 
Kindergarten Culture in the Family—Drawing. ... 73 
CHAPTER VI. 
CHAPTER VI. 
CHAPTER VII. 
CHAPTER VII. 
Kindergarten Culture in the Kindergarten—Social Games . 78 CONTENTS. 
XI 
Kindergarten Culture in the Kindergarten—The Garden . . 92 
CHAPTER Yin. 
CHAPTER IX. 
Kindergarten Culture in the Kindergarten—Building-Blocks, 
Tablets, Sticks, etc.—Drawing, Weaving, Folding, Model- 
ing, etc 97 
CHAPTER X. 
CHAPTER X. 
Object-Lessons, Stories, Songs, Declamations . .* 102 
The Connecting-Class 108 
CHAPTER XL 
CHAPTER XII. 
Adaptation of Kindergarten Culture to American Institutions 
—Mode of Introduction 114 CHAPTER I. 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS—AIM OF THE aNEW EDUCATION.” 
Education is training; and the term has, in itself, 
nothing to do with the object in view, the nature of 
the organism to be educated, or the means employed. 
In the widest sense of the term, all organisms can be 
educated; yet it is usually confined to the training of 
man. Here the objects in view determine the character 
of the education; the means employed—the methods— 
affect only the rapidity and relative perfection of suc- 
cess. Individuals as well as communities may be edu- 
cated, by the same or very similar means, to very dif- 
ferent ends. History affords an abundance of illustrations 
of this. One nation condemns as vicious what another 
deems harmless, or even virtuous; one individual in- 
dulges with equanimity, or even self-approval, in prac- 
tices which would excite the conscience of another to 
the bitterest reproach. However, the term education is 
generally confined still further, and is applied mostly to 
the training of the young. Here, too, its character 
depends principally upon the ends in view. The prime 
excellence of schools and of systems of education lies, 
(13) 14 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
not in the method, hut in the aims; and only when the 
aims are equally excellent, the method becomes a para- 
mount criterion of relative excellence. 
Thus, then, the “ new education,” is distinguished 
from the “old educations” more particularly by its 
aims. It is true, that the methods of the new educa- 
tion also differ, and very widely, from those employed 
previously; but these differences are seldom radical 
ones: they are mostly the result of additional knowledge 
gained by additional experience. Methods may im- 
prove without any change in the aims. Method may 
make a skillful teacher; but only his aims can render 
him a blessing or a curse. Thus, it happens that we 
find in Socrates the germs of the developing method 
clearly pronounced. Not so with the characteristics of 
the new education, since these characteristics are based 
upon views and aims which he could not have. This 
will appear clearer to us, when we consider to what 
great extent our knowledge of the nature of man must 
influence the aims of education; when we consider how 
the labors of a Bacon and Descartes, of a Locke, Spinoza, 
and Leibnitz, of a Kant, Fichte, and Hegel, of a Mayef, 
Helmholtz, and Tyndall, of a Darwin, Lyell, and Hux- 
ley, of a Hamilton, Spencer, and a host of others, by 
presenting man to us in new lights, must bring about 
new aims, hence new educations. 
A hurried glance at the various aims of education in 
various times and among various peoples, will enable 
us to appreciate more fully the leading characteristics 
of the new education. We find among the oldest na- 
tions—the Chinese, the Hindoos, the Persians, and the 
Egyptians—a subordination, nay, an absolute loss of the THE NEW EDUCATION. 
15 
individual to be educated, in the family, the caste, or the 
nation; we find the individual valuable only as a part 
of the family, of the caste, or of the nation. Chinese 
education aims at obedience to the head of the family, 
and to the “ father of all,” the emperor. In Hindostan 
and, with some modifications, in Egypt, we find that no 
individual can look beyond his caste; and education aims 
only at the duties required of the members of the re- 
spective caste. In Persia, the young are public property, 
and are educated to be Persians, in opposition to sur- 
rounding nations—willing subjects of the despotic king. 
Among the Greeks and Romans, we find individu- 
ality asserting its claims. But, still, the highest aim of 
education is the production of good citizens, endowed 
with unswerving patriotism self-sacrificing public 
spirit. Individuality has not yet emancipated itself 
from the shackles of nationality. The Greeks, at the 
same time, educate the individual into a physically and 
mentally harmonious being—a lover of the beautiful. 
They aim at ideal individuality; while the Romans pay 
almost exclusive attention to the development of a prac- 
tical individuality, their highest arts being rhetoric, 
political economy, and the arts of war. Besides, educa- 
tion was universal neither with the Greeks nor with the 
Romans. Among the former, a liberal education was a 
jealously guarded privilege of a favored aristocracy; and 
among the Romans, only the wealthy could afford it. 
The Greeks, with the exception of the Spartans, looked 
upon women with almost Oriental contempt; and the 
Romans, while they accorded them a high position in 
the family, honored them only as members of the family. 
A peculiar position is occupied by the Israelites. 16 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
Here the individual is not lost in the family, the caste, 
or the nation; he is lost in the nation’s God. Nothing 
seems of value to the Israelite, except his relation to his 
God. The education assumes a strictly religious and 
practical character. It is patriarchal, inasmuch as the 
father is the principal teacher; it is theocratic, inas- 
much as the God-given law furnishes its only basis; it is 
national, inasmuch as they look upon themselves as the 
chosen people of their God. Education is, to a certain 
extent, universal among them; but the female sex occu- 
pies, here too, a subordinate position. 
With Christianity, a new era opened also upon edu- 
cation. Christianity, opposed to all external distinc- 
tions among men—not excluding the distinction of 
sex—recognized in man only the human being whom it 
would lead to the love of God and of fellow-beings. But, 
practical equality being unattainable among men, it 
offered, as a compensation, the equality before God in a 
future life, and educated its followers for heaven, while 
it threatened its enemies with everlasting torments. 
Thus, in the course of time, it lost its merely humane 
character, and became a specifically Christian education, 
whose highest aim was the production of believers in 
Christianity. It would lead me too far to review the 
multitude of phases through which Christian education 
passed, variously influenced by monasticism, scholasti- 
cism, feudalism, the Reformation, and a variety of 
other factors. Its distinguishing character throughout 
is the education for Christianity, variously modified, and 
not unfrequently blurred by an education for special 
callings in life, special forms of government, or special 
hobbies. THE NEW EDUCATION. 
17 
I pass, therefore, rapidly to the seventeenth century, 
where we find Bacon, Locke, Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza, 
Leibnitz, and others, engaged in developing new aims 
which culminated in the schools of the humanists and 
realists. Both aimed at the development of individu- 
ality, and of a sense and appreciation of humanity; both 
educated for life upon this earth, human or real life, in 
opposition to the pietists* and to the orthodox schools, 
which looked upon life on earth as a transitional state, 
whose only value lay in preparation for a future exist- 
ence. They differed, however, in their means, which, 
indeed, in their hands, became proximate ends. The 
humanists laid almost exclusive stress upon the Latin 
and the Greek language, and upon classical antiquities; 
while the realists found their arcana in the “knowledge 
which is most worth”—in mathematics, physics, his- 
tory, geography, and the modern languages. 
In the eighteenth century, Rousseau, the greatest of 
realists, in summing up their tenets, opened the way for 
entirely new aims by what has been called “a return to 
nature.” This expression must not, however, be under- 
stood to mean that the celebrated Frenchman returned 
to a certain natural system that had previously been 
followed. While the human being, previous to the 
humanists and realists, had been looked upon as a more 
* A name given, since the end of the seventeenth century, to 
a religious party, which opposed doctrinalism, and insisted upon 
the study of the Scriptures rather than of the symbolical books, 
and upon the necessity of a practical rather than a systematic 
religion. Spener and Francke, the latter one of the brightest 
lights in the history of education, Avere the most prominent lead- 
ers among the pietists. 18 
KINDERGARTEX CULTURE. 
or less preternatural existence, as a being not fully sub- 
ject to the ordinary laws of organic growth and develop- 
ment, and the human mind, at best, as something to he 
filled, Rousseau wanted man to be looked upon as an 
organism, and asked that education should he an inde- 
pendent development of the nature of this organism. In 
order to accomplish this, he required an absolute return 
to what he called the natural state of man; that is, the 
young must be educated, independent of civil relations, 
current prejudices, dogmatic authority, etc.; and the 
aim of the educator must be to produce an absolutely in- 
dependent human being, fitted, however, to become a 
member of societ}q with powers strengthened by indi- 
vidual effort, with convictions and a will dependent only 
on reason, and free from the passions and prejudices of 
men. Individuality, independence, strength of charac- 
ter, nature, reason, are the watch-words of Rousseau’s 
new education; but his system had to be greatly modi- 
fied—freed from a host of fallacies, vaguenesses, eccen- 
tricities, and morbid sentimentalities; a great number 
of insufficiencies had to be supplied, the nature of man 
had to bo more carefully and more fully set forth, before 
it could bring good to mankind. However, in spite of 
its faults, it contains the germs of our present new edu- 
cation, holding the same relation to the latter that the 
method of Socrates bears to the present new developing 
method of instruction. 
The work of polishing, preparing, and arranging into 
a shapely structure the raw material furnished by the 
impetuous Rousseau, as far as the aims of the new edu- 
cation are concerned, was accomplished by philosophers 
like Kant, Fichte, Richter, Schopenhauer, Hegel, and THE NEW EDUCATION. 
19 
Rosenkranz. Kant insists that the objects of education 
are threefold: moral, technical, and pragmatical. The 
moral object is the absolute one, and is attained in mo- 
rality; the technical object, in skill; the pragmatical 
object, in prudence. Education must cultivate, civilize, 
moralize man. Virtue is not inborn, but acquired by 
instruction and practice. Children are to be educated, 
not for the present, but for future generations; that is, 
in accordance with the ideal of mankind and its destiny. 
Only on the basis of tins principle, progress—a future 
better condition of mankind—is possible. 
Fichte insists, if possible, more strongly upon moral- 
ity as the absolute aim of education, and lays very great 
stress upon freedom—independence from external mo- 
tives. Only what is done from free determination, with- 
out the least external motive, is moral; hence the ab- 
surdity of using hope of rewards and fear of punishments 
as means to lead to virtue. Again, man is not alone in 
the world; he is a man among men, a member of a com- 
munity of rational beings. As such, he must he consid- 
ered and educated up to maturity, when he may choose 
his calling for life. All education for special callings or 
stations in life before that time, is absurd and inhuman. 
Richter is the apostle of ideal individuality. Each 
one of us, he says, has in himself his ideal prize-man; 
that is, the harmonious maximum of all individual pre- 
dispositions ; and it is the business of education to de- 
velop him into full growth. At the same time, he asks, 
with Kant, that education should elevate above the 
“spirit of the times,” and prepare for future generations. 
A child, he exclaims, should be more sacred to you than 
the present, which consists of things and adults. 20 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
Through the child, you move, although laboriously, by 
means of the shorter lever-arm of mankind, the longer 
one. 
Schopenhauer lays great stress upon education for 
real life, and upon the production of accurate under- 
standing, and of sound, untrammeled reason. All knowl- 
edge must have an intuitive basis; all abstract ideas 
must rest on concrete perceptions. He would offer to 
the young mind nothing that it can not master independ- 
ently, for fear of creating error and prejudice. 
Hegel represents, with Kant and Fichte, morality as 
the main aim of education. His ideas are, however, fol- 
lowed out more systematically by Rosenkranz, to whom 
I pass. Education, he holds, can create nothing; it can 
only assist in developing existing actual possibilities 
into realities. The general form of culture is habit. 
The subjective limit of education, he finds in the indi- 
viduality of the pupil; its objective limit, in the means 
for nursing and developing this individuality. The 
proximate end of education is the emancipation of the 
pupil, resulting in self-education. 
Thus, by the labors of these men, and of others whose 
mention I must here forego, the crude material furnished 
by Rousseau Avas crystallized into clear, beautiful, sym- 
metrical purposes, which may be summed up in the 
following formula: The object of education is the devel- 
opment of independent individualities, fitted for life in 
society—capable of happiness, and efficient for useful- 
ness—on the basis of morality and reason. 
This formula has been reached by reasoning so cau- 
tious, so honest, so free from prejudice and passion, that 
all cotemporaneous and subsequent developments of THE NEW EDUCATION. 
21 
science with reference to the nature of man, have only 
served to corroborate it. The necessity of such corrobo- 
ration will appear from the fact that, to this day, the 
formula is recognized or followed by a very small portion 
of the authorities that control educational forces. Leav- 
ing out of consideration the ravages that prejudice, 
passion, and brutal selfishness still make in family edu- 
cation, we xreed only glance at the school-systems of the 
leading nations in the so-called civilized world to gain 
this conviction. In the Volhsschule of Prussia and of a 
great portion of the rest of Germairy, “God, King, and 
Fatherland” are still the aims that absorb well-nigh all 
others. France has been ruined by the criminal selfish- 
ness of State and Church in suppressing nearly every 
aim beyond themselves. In England, a medieval society 
still continues to harass and hinder progress wherever 
it raises its head. Even in the United States, which, in 
spite of imperfect methods, stand nearest the true for- 
mula, the technical and pragmatical, or relative, aims 
are, in the majority of cases, placed above the moral, or 
absolute, aim of education. 
But in all these countries, and first among us, the 
formula, thanks to the untiring, resistless energy of 
science, will ultimately prevail. For the sake of eluci- 
dation, I sketch a few of the leading developments of 
science that seem destined to do the greatest part in this 
noble victory; and for this purpose I turn to a few typ- 
ical pioneers in psychological science. One of the 
principal ones, and, in time at least, one of the first, is 
Herbart, who taught that the soul is a simple entity, 
subject to no change in its quality—the real, unchange- 
able recipient of ideas. These, subject to change, 22 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
assume the forms—among which consciousness is one— 
■whose sum is called mind. The view;, that the soul has 
a number of powers of a higher and lower order, he de- 
clares to be a psychological myth. Every single idea 
manifests itself, in consequence of its contrasts with oth- 
ers, as a force that sets the mass in motion. Thinking, 
feeling, imagining, are only specified differences in the 
self-preservation of the soul; consciousness is only the 
sum of relations in which the soul stands to other enti- 
ties. Repressed ideas that have not entered conscious- 
ness are feelings. As enter consciousness they 
become appetites; and, united with the hope of success, 
the appetite becomes will. 
He was followed by Beneke, who contends that the 
soul is not a simple entity, but is composed of a multi- 
plicity of similar powers. These he divides into ele- 
mentary (or primordial) and evolved powers, the latter 
resulting from the union of elementary powers with im- 
pressions and ideas. For him, then, the soul is no 
longer a constant, but a variable, subject to develop- 
ment. He deems the existence of an imagination, a 
memory, an understanding, a will, etc., as powers inde- 
pendent of ideas, an absurdity; and he shows that they 
are attributes or results of ideas. The simplest psychical 
formations are the sensuous sensations which remain as 
traces in the soul. These traces multiply. The similar 
ones attract one another, and are strengthened into per- 
ceptions; similar perceptions, by an analogous process, 
unite to form concepts, conclusions, judgments, etc.; 
clearness of concepts, clearness of consciousness, consti- 
tutes understanding. The rapidity and other character- 
istics of these developments depend, subjectively, on the THE NEW EDUCATION. 
23 
strength (power to retain), vividness (tendency to assim- 
ilate), and susceptibility of the primordial powers; they 
depend, objectively, on the number and intensity of the 
impressions, percepts, concepts, etc. Thus, starting 
from simple premises, he teaches that all manifestations 
of psychical force are the necessary results of the sub- 
jective peculiarities of the primordial powers, and of the 
multiplicity, intensity, and clearness of impressions. 
Herbart had shown the absurdity of assuming a num- 
ber of special, independent faculties of the soul. Beneke 
had proved that the soul is capable of development— a 
thing that grows. The next step was taken by Herbert 
Spencer, who shows that this growth is organic, subject 
to the ordinary laws of organic development, thus mak- 
ing psychology strictly a natural science, to be hence- 
forth modified, extended in its scope, corrected in its 
errors, limited in its theories, by tbe same laws of criti- 
cism that apply to other natural sciences. Availing 
himself of the discovery of the law of evolution, of the 
correlation, the indestructibility, and mutability of 
forces, of their inseparability from matter, he has built 
up a system of psychology which, on account of its clear- 
ness and strict adhesion to scientific principles, is des- 
tined to supplant, or rather to crown, the work of his 
predecessors, and to become one of the most potent 
agencies in hastening a recognition of the principles of 
the new education. 
If I have not yet mentioned the two greatest heroes 
of the new education—Pestalozzi and Froebel—it is be- 
cause their labors were directed more particularly to the 
establishment of efficient methods, or rather to the. adap- 
tation of proper methods to the requirements of the new 24 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
education. And, while we must accede to these great 
men the honor of haying almost independently discov- 
ered the aims of the new education, and of having done 
more than any others for the attainment of these aims, 
their theorizing upon the subject is so vague, so little in 
accordance with philosophic principles, that their efforts 
would have come to naught, had they not been strength- 
ened and upheld by the calmer and more scientific 
labors of the men that have just been reviewed. For 
this we have ample proof in the practical working of the 
methods of Pestalozzi and Froebel in the hands of teach- 
ers who either have no aims in their teaching, or who 
do not reach beyond the technical aims. In the hands 
of such men and women, these methods, excellent as 
they are in themselves, degenerate into a mechanism as 
mind-killing and soul-perverting as any, the text-hook 
and the lecturing method not excepted. Nevertheless, 
this sketch would lack an essential element of complete- 
ness without a fewr strokes showing the part that Pesta- 
lozzi and Froebel have played in the development of the 
new education. 
Pestalozzi, who is justly called the father of popular 
education, asks that education must open the way 
to culture and independent self-preservation to every 
human being. He bases his instruction upon actual 
intuition, upon sensuous impressions, developing suc- 
cessively into percepts, concepts, etc.; he undertakes to 
develop the human powers from within outward; he 
requires, in all things, gradual and continuous progress; 
and he insists upon self-activity on the part of the pupil, 
because a harmonious development of the human powers 
requires not only assimilation, but also production. THE NEW EDUCATION. 
25 
The development of this latter phase, production, is 
the principal object of FroebePs labors. The develop- 
ment of the expressive faculties, of the power to give 
utterance with the organs of speech or with the hands, 
of the power to combine and use the assimilated impres- 
sions—the development of the creative faculties—forms 
the center to which his most valuable efforts tend. At 
the same time, he lays great stress upon the develop- 
ment and proper guidance of the social faculties. He 
wishes, indeed, to develop independent individuality to 
the highest possible degree; but he insists, at the same 
time, upon the development of a deep sense of the duties 
which the individual owes to society, and of the greater 
strength for good that it can derive from society. While 
Pestalozzi showed how to develop organically the recep- 
tive powers, Froebel teaches how to develop the express- 
ive powers; while Pestalozzi points out the road to 
happiness, Froebel indicates the road to usefulness. 
Thus, the one supplies the other; and it may be safely 
asserted that the two have opened the ways to realize 
the requirements of the new education. 
In conclusion, permit me to recapitulate briefly the 
leading characteristics of the new education. It looks 
upon the human being as an organism, subject in all its 
parts and attributes to the ordinary laws of organic 
development, but possessing a soul endowed with pow'ers 
far surpassing those of other organisms, and constitut- 
ing, at the same time, a part of another looser organism 
called society. Hence its methods aim at growth from 
within outward, and at the production of beings whose 
receptive and expressive powers have reached their 
highest degree of harmonious development, fit to con- 26 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
tinue their growth independently, and to become 
healthy members of society. In short, its aim is the de- 
velopment of independent individualities, fitted for life 
in society—capable of happiness, and efficient for useful- 
ness—on the basis of morality and reason. CHAPTER 11. 
PROXIMATE ENDS AND METHODS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
Turning now to the formula enounced in the pre- 
vious chapter, with a view of determining proximate 
ends, we find in the ultimate aim of education two 
phases. In the first of these, the pupil is looked upon 
as an independent organism—as a ivhole in itself; in 
short, as an individual. In the second phase, he appears 
as a part of another looser organism, composed of many 
similar individuals, as a member of society. The first 
of these may be called the individual phase of education; 
the second, its social phase. It is difficult to deter- 
mine which of these two phases is the more important. 
On the one hand, we find the character of society de- 
pending on the absolute character of its component 
parts, the individuals; on the other hand, we find the 
individual deriving nearly all things that make his ex- 
istence valuable from his intercourse with society. Yet, 
if we consider that an individual is able to adapt him- 
self to circumstances in direct proportion to the suscepti- 
bility, vividness, and vigor which his powers have 
attained, and that self-interest will induce the indi- 28 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
vidual to make up, to a considerable extent, for neglect 
in the social phase of education, while society feels very 
little interest in making a corresponding effort, the 
question loses its difficulties, and Ave can not hesitate to 
award the palm of greater relative importance to indi- 
vidual development. 
Of course, this does not argue that the social phase is 
of little importance. For, inasmuch as the individual 
derives greater power from society; inasmuch as useful- 
ness is the coin that pays for happiness; inasmuch as 
the individual culls his brightest flowers from the gar- 
dens of society, and accomplishes his brightest triumphs 
with its aid; inasmuch, indeed, as his humanity de- 
pends mainly upon the character of his social powers, 
we are safe in asserting that an education which neg- 
lects or ignores the social phase, does not deserve to be 
countenanced. 
Indeed, education must keep both the individual and 
the social phase constantly in view, never losing sight 
of the one while cultivating the other; or, rather, always 
cultivating the one with reference to the other. Never- 
theless, certain sequences must be observed. The indi- 
vidual must feel himself, before he can feel his relations 
to others. The organism must have reached a certain 
strength, before it can make itself felt. The faculties 
will serve the individual in proportion to the knowledge 
and skill acquired. He must have been impressed by 
others, before he can impress them efficiently; he must 
have been helped, before he can help. In the succession 
of the special social circles—family, playmates, school- 
fellows, etc.—in which he moves, and with which he is 
brought into conscious contact, their natural proximity ENDS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
29 
to the individual, their scope, and other characteristics 
must be considered. 
Returning to individual development, we find again 
two principal objective points: the development of the 
formative and of the expressive powers. The formative 
powers form ideas and purposes; the expressive powers 
give utterance to the ideas—accomplish or tend to accom- 
plish the purposes. Here, too, while the development 
of both the formative and the expressive powers, and 
of each and all of them, must constantly be kept in view, 
there are, nevertheless, certain sequences that can not 
be disregarded with impunity. Expression must always 
be preceded by formative processes; and, in the express- 
ive powers, imitation must precede invention. All 
formative processes rest primarily on sensations. These 
unite, successively, aided by attention, memory, and im- 
agination, into perceptions, conceptions, judgments. 
Again, attention must first be exercised on observation, 
and then, successively, on investigation, comparison, 
and classification. Will is the foundation of purpose 
and of character, and can only grow from appetite, which, 
again, is derived from feeling. 
Now, it can not be denied that, with reference to all 
these sequences in the growth of the organism, there are 
successive periods when the mentioned processes, suc- 
cessively, predominate, or when the mentioned forma- 
tions, successively, reach a distinct character. Yet it 
would be a fatal error, if education should, at any time, 
pay exclusive attention to the predominating processes 
or formations, and disregard the others: to do so, would 
be to stunt growth, to supplant previous acquisitions by 
new ones, to disturb or to prevent symmetrical or bar- 30 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
monious development of the organism. Thus it would 
be highly improper to devote exclusive attention to 
formative processes for any considerable length of time, 
and then to spend an equally long period in exercises of 
expression; or to develop a very long series and a very 
great variety of perceptions, before the corresponding 
conceptions are taken in hand; or to devote a long 
period to the exclusive exercise of the hand, and another 
to the exclusive exercise of the organs of speech; or to 
practice for a number of years only the imitative, and 
then the inventive phases of expression. 
On the contrary, every new impression, every new 
idea, all new knowledge, must at once be strengthened, 
fixed, referred to the appropriate higher groups by im- 
mediate expression, by being immediately used in proc- 
esses of a higher order. Only thus can these ideas 
become living matter; only thus can they be assimi- 
lated by the organism, and rendered tributary to its 
enjoyment and usefulness. Perceptions or conceptions 
that have found no room in higher groups, or that have 
not been used in processes of a higher order, are very 
soon lost. Ideas perish, if they are not expressed; and 
their life will grow in beauty and vigor in proportion to 
the beauty, vigor, and variety of their expressions. 
Indeed, an idea can never be considered as properly 
formed until it has been clearly expressed; at any rate, 
its expression is the only reliable test of its character. 
In short, in whatever it does, education must look 
upon the organism as a whole, and must see that all its 
organs, all its powers, are cultivated—not as so many 
independent things, but as indispensable parts of the 
entire organism, influencing every part of it, and ENDS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
31 
influenced by every other part. The physical, sensuous, 
emotional elements, it is true, begin visible growth 
before the motor, intellectual, discriminating elements. 
The latter grow upon the former. Still, they, too, exist 
from the beginning, and the neglect of their latent 
development would lead to disastrous results. Similarly, 
when they begin to outshine the former in their develop- 
ment, it must not be forgotten that their efficiency is 
based upon the power of these, and that these must still 
proceed with increased vigor in their development, if, 
indeed, a vigorous, harmonious organism is the aim. 
dims it will appear, too, that the sequences mentioned 
above refer not so much to the aggregate life of the 
organism as to the succession of changes and phases to 
which every new element that enters the organism is 
subjected. 
The way in 'which the proximate ends, as well as the 
ultimate aim, of the new education are attained, consti- 
tutes its method or methods. The singular, method, 
refers to the ultimate aim; the plural, methods, to the 
proximate ends. This distinction is desirable, since it 
implies the necessity, so often forgotten, of keeping the 
various proximate ends in view simultaneously, the ulti- 
mate aim furnishing the center, as it were, to which all 
educational labors, from every direction, tend. In gen- 
eral, method is the way by which we reach a certain end. 
Its value depends upon the rapidity, ease, and security 
with which it leads us to the desired goal. The method, 
then, is an important ingredient of education, but it 
never can rise to the dignity and importance of the 
objects in view. Indeed, it has little, if any, absolute 
value, for the road that leads to a bad end should bo KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
abandoned, be it ever so smooth and flowery. There is 
no reason, however, why the roads to good ends should 
not be made attractive, if we have the necessary skill 
and experience. 
Of course, educational methods will depend, to a great 
extent, upon the view that is taken of the material to 
be educated. Indeed, this view furnishes, as we have 
seen above, all the proximate ends. On this account, 
the methods of the new education seem so different from 
those of old educations: not only the ultimate aim is 
very much changed, but the proximate ends, based upon 
entirely new views of human nature, are so different, 
that we scarcely recognize Socrates in the methods of 
Pestalozzi and Froebel. At the same time, it must be 
admitted that the race has, since the time of Socrates, 
accumulated much skill and experience, so that, even 
absolutely, the educational methods of the day are as 
much in advance of that of the great Greek as the rail- 
road is superior to primitive foot-paths. Nevertheless, 
he who would lose sight of the proximate ends or of the 
ultimate aim, would render himself liable to fatal errors 
and failures. 
In my sketch of the methods of the new education, I 
shall, therefore, keep these things constantly in view— 
partly because only thus the true value of the methods 
will appear, and partly because I am anxious to guard 
the learning reader against the fatal error of seeking 
success in the methods alone. 
It can not be my object, in this sketch, to give a de- 
tailed account of these methods, in their entire scope, 
and in all their bearings: all I can hope to do is to 
exhibit, in a few strokes, their leading features, in order ENDS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
to be able to show what part Kindergarten Culture 
plays in tbe system. 
The general feature that unites all tbe methods of 
tbe new education is development—evolution. They 
labor to aid and direct tbe unfolding of tbe various 
germs of cajracities and faculties of the young human 
being to ever higher and more complex forms of ex- 
istence. This development is, in all cases, strictly or- 
ganic—i. e., from within outward: it is growth, subject 
to the ordinary laws of growth. 
The various powers will grow, like the physical 
portions of the animal organism, by taking into them- 
selves suitable material from without, by assimilating 
this material (i. e., by rendering it similar to them- 
selves, and uniting with it), and by judicious, vigorous 
exercise. Again, if the powers are to reach full vigor, 
their growth must be gradual and continuous. It must 
be gradual—i. e., slow—moderate enough to give time 
for thorough, efficient assimilation of the appropriated 
material. It must be continuous—i. e., starting from a 
given point, it must progress steadily, without breaks 
or leaps. Breaks that reduce a given power to idle- 
ness, will cause this power to lose much of the sub- 
stance and vigor previously acquired; leaps that induce 
a given power to attempt what lies beyond its strength, 
cause a reaction which is injurious, and often 
fatal. Only if the growth is gradual and continuous, 
onty if every thing presented and required is within 
the scope of the pupil’s powers, only if the powers are 
continually and fully exercised, and every new step is 
taken on the basis of previous attainments, we can 
expect to develop powers that approach their maxi- KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
mum of susceptibility, vividness, and vigor—powers 
that will enable the individual to emancipate himself 
from leading-strings, and to do his work independently. 
Education, then, can create nothing. It only can, 
in the positive phases of its work, place the organism 
in the most favorable circumstances for growth, for the 
unfolding of its powers, for increase in substance and 
vigor; it only can offer appropriate food, Avatch over 
its proper assimilation, and guide, the exercise of the 
powers thus strengthened. In its negative phases, edu- 
cation must protect the organism against injurious in- 
fluences, keep hurtful food aAvay from it, guard it 
against overfeeding, and prevent undue exertion of 
the poAvers. It may be added, that these phases, the 
positive and the negative, do not claim the same rela- 
tive attention at all times. The work of early education 
is mostly negative; and positive education, although 
steadily growing in scope and importance, does not, on 
an average, gain the ascendency over her sister until 
the third or fourth year of school-life. 
The negative phases of education require, in addi- 
tion to an intimate knoAvledge of child-nature, and a 
clear, enthusiastic appreciation of the proximate ends 
and the ultimate aim, a great amount of tact and pa- 
tience; the positive phases, a certain amount of posi- 
tive knowledge and skill, Avhose character and extent 
depend on the stage Avhich the pupil has reached. 
These considerations are of paramount importance in 
the selection of teachers: to regard them is to succeed; 
to disregard them is to fail. 
The methods of the neAV education place almost ex- 
clusive reliance upon self-activity on the part of the ENDS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
35 
growing human being. This is a necessary consequence 
of the theory of development. If the development of 
the young human being is organic growth, it follows 
that he has to do his own growing, that nobody can 
do it for him, that he will derive lasting benefit only 
from what lie does himself. Only self-activity .can 
induce the powers to grow; and the methods must labor 
to induce vigorous self-activity, and to keep it in 
proper channels. Good habits of observation, thought, 
and action; good habits in the formation of ideas and 
purposes, as well as in their expression—organized 
knowledge and skill—can grow only from vigorous, 
well-directed self-activity, involving the respective pow- 
ers of the young human being. Indeed, man naturally 
delights in activity, and his desire for activity grows 
with the growing powers; laziness and indolence inva- 
riably result from false education. 
Thus, in intellectual culture, the first and foremost 
business of these methods is to arouse attention; in other 
words, to induce the intellectual powers to act, to unite 
with the impressions that attack the senses from all 
directions, to combine with similarly fertilized powers 
into clear perceptions. In the development of higher 
formations, the pupil must remember—i. e., reexcite pre- 
vious formations to new activity—and imagine them 
variously united or modified. These and other things 
the growing human being must do himself; and, in 
proportion as he is independently active, within the 
scope of his acquired knowledge and skill, his powers 
will gather strength that will fit him for greater 
activitjq and guard him against the curse of satiety and 
its offspring, indolence. And so in all things, the 36 
KIN DERG ARTEN CU LTURE. 
emancipation of the individual, his independence, can 
grow only from self-activity; and an educational effort 
is faulty, whenever it saves the pupil wholesome labor 
and has a tendency to satiate. 
In the curriculum of exercises, in the selection of 
the material to be assimilated or practiced upon by the 
growing organism, the principles enounced above must 
guide us. Until the individual has attained inde- 
pendence, until he has emancipated himself, all that 
is offered must contribute to his growth, must aim at 
his humanity, and only at his humanity. Iso special 
callings, no special aims, dare enter: he is, par excel- 
lence, a growing human being. He must be made 
acquainted with himself and his race; he must become 
familiar with the relations existing between him and 
the race—between him and the external world; he 
must become conversant with the nature and relations 
of all things that influence human happiness and use- 
fulness; he must become skilled in all the modes of 
expression by which one human being communicates 
with the other, and by means of which human beings 
assist each other in the “struggle for existence.” Until 
independent individuality has been reached, it is not 
the future statesman or poet, the future merchant or 
artisan, the future ruler or subject, the future mon- 
archist or republican, that is to be educated; it is only 
the future independent individual. Neither the family, 
nor the kindergarten, nor the school, has any right to 
go beyond this, and to force the child into special call- 
ings, or to fit it for special relations. These he must 
select, to these he must adapt himself, when he has 
reached the proper maturity. Not that he should do ENDS OF THE NEW EDUCATION. 
37 
so without the advice of parents, teachers, and friends— 
for their appreciation of himself and of circumstances 
may be superior to his—but he must be able to act 
upon their advice freely; lie must be at the rudder, 
and understand clearly the course he steers. CHAPTER 111. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE FAMILY—EARLIEST 
PERIOD—FIRST AND SECOND GIFT. 
The questions now arise: What place does Kinder- 
garten Culture, or child-gardening, occupy in the general 
scheme of education? where does it begin? where does 
it end? what are its special aims? and what are its 
means? 
That education must begin with birth is a truism 
which seems to have been universally admitted even 
in earliest antiquity. Nevertheless, a comparatively 
small number of persons appreciate fully the importance 
of early education, as furnishing the basis for the whole 
future of the young human being—a basis, too, which 
can not he gained so efficiently at later periods of life; 
and it is the most eagerly coveted object of my sketch 
to increase this number. 
Let us take a rapid survey of the first years of exist- 
ence of the young denizen of the world. During the first 
two or three months of his life, he does little more 
than take food and sleep. His senses seem to slumber: 
only general sensibility, the sense of vitality, the sense THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
of himself, seems to be aroused now and then, when he 
needs food, or warmth, or relief from pain. He an- 
nounces these wants by restlessness or crying* and, as 
soon as they have been satisfied by the mother or 
nurse, he relapses into apparent inactivity. From this 
slumbering period, he is gradually aroused by the vari- 
ous impressions that have hammered at his senses all 
this time. Some of them, either on account of their 
greater frequency, or on account of their greater inten- 
sity, have at last gained entrance to his consciousness, 
and he greets them with marks of pleasure or pain— 
seeks them or shuns them. The efforts which he makes 
to secure or to avoid the sensations, whether they consist 
in crying or cooing, or in more or less violent, more or 
less appropriate motions of his extremities or of other 
parts of his body, are the first sensible manifestations 
of self-activity. He now begins to evident atten- 
tion to surrounding things; unites similar sensations 
into ever clearer perceptions and conceptions. His 
emotions become more and more intense, more and more 
distinct, crystallizing into desires and purposes; his 
muscles grow in strength, and he uses them, in his 
efforts to attain his desires and to accomplish his pur- 
poses, with ever greater directness and efficiency. His 
expressive poAvers, too, are gradually evolved; and, as 
he gathers skill in their use, he delights more and more 
in their exercise. 
It is evident how, already at this stage, an educating 
hand can exert a poAverful influence; lioav, by judicious 
management of the impressions that croAvd around the 
child, consciousness and, Avith it, attention and self- 
activity, can be hastened and intensified; lioav, by the 40 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
procuring of pleasure and the avoiding of pain, the emo- 
tional nature can be directed in proper channels; how, 
by a constant regard to the beautiful, the foundation of 
good taste and, with it, of virtue, can be laid; how the 
wealth of ideas can be increased; how the fountains of 
emotion can be kept clear and pure; how the muscular 
and expressive powers can be trained and brought more 
rapidly and more fully under the child’s conscious con- 
trol; how the change of his crude cooing and rude cry 
into the meaning word, the transformation of the seem- 
ingly aimless struggle of its limbs into deliberate move- 
ments, can be accelerated. 
Hence Froebel, the great inventor of kindergarten- 
ing, lays much stress upon the treatment of the child at 
this period. Even before the apparent dawn of con- 
sciousness, he begins his labors. He acts upon the child 
by means of playthings, selected and handled so as to 
engage the whole nature of the child and to aid develop- 
ment in all directions. To these playthings, he attracts 
the child’s attention: the child observes them; it gains 
ideas from them; it experiments with them; it longs for 
them, seeks them, is delighted with them, sorrows with 
them, pities them, loves them; it exercises its entire 
muscular system in playing with them; it trains its 
hands and organs of speech in its intercourse with 
them. 
These playthings, Froebel calls gifts. The first gift 
consists of a box containing six soft elastic balls, of dif- 
ferent colors—three elementary, and three secondary. 
He chooses the ball, because it is the simplest shape, and 
the one from which all others may subsequently be 
derived; because it is the simplest external individu- THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
41 
ality, most readily-grasped with the hand as well as with 
the intellect—the individuality which, viewed from all 
directions, will ever make the same impression on the 
child. He chooses the ball, because it is the most 
mobile of inanimate shapes; hence most nearly allied to 
the living organism: its elasticity, too, brings it nearer 
to life, and, hence, to the child’s sympathy. Its softness 
renders it less liable to hurt the child, thus, keeping 
away dislike or fear; enables the little hands to grasp 
it more readily and more lovingly; and lessens the possi- 
bility of startling noises, which would interfere with 
concentration, by engaging the ear too intensely when 
the eye is busy. The various colors serve to distinguish 
the several playmates of the child by special character- 
istics, and enable it to make its first clear analyses, or 
abstractions, since the color is the only thing in which 
the playthings differ. 
The balls are furnished with strings, so as to be 
always fully in the control of the mother or nurse who 
manages the little playmates, and of the child who, ulti- 
mately, becomes their ruler. Even before the child has 
shown any signs of consciousness, the balls are sus- 
pended over its bed, sometimes singly, sometimes in 
twos—arranged in simple contrasts; sometimes in 
threes—a secondary between its two primaries. This 
variety in the impressions will hasten perception in the 
child; and the method in the variety will insure subse- 
quent clearness and accuracy of the ideas derived from 
them. When the child begins to look upon these bright 
playthings with some attention, the mother or nurse 
will cause one of them to move slowly to and from, the 
child, and accompanies these motions with soft musical 42 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
sounds, singing the syllables “ ding-dong,” “tick- 
tack,” or similar ones. In selecting the syllables, it 
should be borne in mind that they are to the child signs 
or symbols of the motions; hence each pair should have 
a constant element, representing the sameness of the 
two motions, and a variable element, representing their 
difference in direction. The former is furnished by the 
consonants, which should be the same in both (e.g., 
d—ng in ding-dong); the latter, by the vowels (e.g., 
i and o in ding-dong). 
Care must be taken not to allow the child to become 
impatient with the ball that is suspended before its 
eyes. As soon as its attention has been fixed by the 
ball, it will have a vague desire to be nearer to the 
latter. This desire will manifest itself in struggling 
motions of the entire muscular system, culminating 
in impatient cries. If, however, the mother or nurse 
has watched with intelligent care, she will have set 
the ball in motion, and even placed it in the eager 
hands of the child, before this impatience can be 
developed. Again, whenever she perceives that the 
child needs rest, or is surfeited—has enough food—she 
will remove the ball, not suddenly or harshly, but with 
the full consent of the child. From previous consider- 
ations, it will appear that the practice of suspending a 
bell,, instead of a ball, before the child, and of ringing it 
more or less violently, when the little sufferer shows 
signs of impatience, is very injurious. The same is true 
of the rattle, which every observing mother knows to be 
exceedingly disagreeable to the child. 
The ball is used similarly in a great variety of plays, 
and becomes the center of a little world of beauty, life, THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
43 
and pleasure to the young human being; the vehicle 
and fountain of a great fund of information; the material 
for unlimited exercise of his growing powers. When he 
has seen the ball moving to and fro before his eyes, 
approaching him and receding from him; when he has 
held it in his little hands, and recognized it as a thing 
that has an existence separate from his own, and yet 
capable of affecting* him and of entering into more or 
less intimate relation with him—its motions or actions 
may be multiplied and varied at pleasure, each motion 
or set of motions being accompanied by appropriate, 
more or less musical, syllables or words. 
Thus, the ball may be caused to swing right and left, 
obliquely, up and down; to revolve in circles and spirals; 
to jump, aided by its elasticity, over the hand, over the 
box, up and down; to roll, to run away, to come back, to 
fall, etc. It may be hidden in the hand, and again 
revealed; the child may catch it as it swings, and hold 
it, while the mother or nurse pulls the string gently; or 
it may be dropped into the box, where the child seeks it. 
Again, the string may be removed from the ball, and 
many of these plays modified, and others invented in 
which the ball moves independently. 
In the course of time, the ball may be put to still 
more extended use in fixing impressions gained from 
other objects. The child has noticed, independently, or 
at the bidding of the mother or nurse, the motions of a 
variety of other animate or inanimate things in its sur- 
roundings—the cat, the dog, the chickens, the bird in 
the cage or in the garden, the pig, the horse, the cow; 
the carriage, the wagon, the sleigh, the locomotive with 
its train of cars; the father, brothers, and sisters, near 44 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
relatives or friends. The ball is used to represent these 
things, and becomes the starting-point for a vigorous 
and wholesome exercise of memory and imagination. 
Now the ball is a bird flying away or alighting on a 
tree; now it is a cat jumping upon the chair, or a dog 
leaping over the fence; now it is a squirrel climbing up 
a tree, or a mouse running across the floor; now it is a 
heavily loaded wagon or a light buggy; now it is a pet- 
lamb, to be watched with care, or a wild colt, or a bois- 
terous dog. 
Occasionally, other objects may be used instead of the 
ball, in order to direct the child’s attention to them, or 
to fix it upon them, or to corroborate the teachings of 
the hall. Sometimes, again, two or even several balls 
may engage in the plays; but care must be taken that 
this practice is not carried too far, for fear of scattering 
the child’s attention or of confusing or blurring its per- 
ceptions. The representative syllables that accompany 
certain motions, and the words or sentences that 
describe or explain others, must be simple; and the 
same or similar motions must always he attended by the 
same or similar syllables, words, or sentences. This will 
not only hasten clear perception on the part of the child, 
but will also enable it to succeed sooner in its efforts to 
repeat the sounds. Again, the child must not be sur- 
feited with excessive monotony, or confused with excess- 
ive variety: the former tires out the attention of the 
child; the latter gives the child no opportunity to fix 
its attention upon any one object or motion long enough 
and intensely enough to obtain a clear idea thereof. 
Above all things, the activity of the mother or nurse 
must never drown or unnecessarily interrupt the self- THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
45 
activity of the child. And here it must be remembered 
that the child is self-active, not only when it moves, or 
cries, or “tries to talk,” but also when it looks or listens, 
when it attends more or less consciously to any impres- 
sions upon any of its senses, and even when it muses in 
a half-waking condition. A boisterous, rude voice, vio- 
lent movements, vehement loquacity, excessive caress- 
ing, and many other well-meant absurdities on the part 
of mother, nurse, or visitor, may, in such cases, do a 
great deal of harm by interrupting the child in whole- 
some self-activity. On the other hand, the judicious, 
sympathizing mother or nurse will, in all her actions, in 
the tone and character of her words, adapt herself to the 
child in its efforts to learn and to do; and the uniform 
good-humor of the child, as well as the rapid develop- 
ment of all its powers—physical and mental, formative 
and expressive—prove how well she does her part of the 
educational work. 
As soon as the child begins to sit alone, and to crawl 
about, and takes pleasure in doing so, its self-activity 
attains a much wider scope. The child may then be 
placed on a pallet or blanket, in the middle of the floor, 
and receive a ball, with or without string, for independ- 
ent play. Froebel suggests, too, that at this period a 
larger ball may be suspended by a stout string from the 
ceiling, in such a manner that the little learner may set 
it in motion, or raise himself by it, and thus gradually 
learn to stand. He thinks that this mode, of learning 
how to stand is superior to the more ordinary way of let- 
ting the child draw itself up by chairs and other stand- 
ing objects, because it is less exposed to injury from falls, 
and because it is compelled to make greater efforts in 46 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
maintaining its center of gravity within proper limits. 
He also suggests, as an exercise to strengthen the mus- 
cles of the body, hips, and thighs, to let the child grasp 
in its hands a ball, furnished with a stout string, and to 
raise and lower the child alternately on its feet, through 
ever greater distances—a play in which it will delight 
very much. 
Froebel’s second gift consists of a wooden ball, cube, 
and cylinder. The chief reasons for selecting these are 
found in his law of the connection of contrasts. Every idea 
that we have refers to some object, and, in the first 
place, to some sensible object. The clearness of the idea 
will depend upon the fullness of our knowledge of the 
object in all its details. This knowledge is gained by 
observation; and observation implies the comparison of 
its properties with the similar properties of other objects 
with which we are acquainted. Now, with reference to 
a given property, any two objects may be alike, or differ 
in a greater or less degree. If the differences reach a 
certain extent, wTe designate the two phases of the prop- 
erty as contrasts: great and small, hard and soft, black 
and white, round and angular, are such contrasts. 
Comparison exists only because there are contrasts. If 
there were no contrasts, comparison would be impossible. 
Even in the midst of the many contrasts by which we 
are surrounded, we cease to compare where we find 
agreement, and unite objects according to their simi- 
larities in lower or higher groups, represented by corre- 
sponding conceptions in our minds. 
Again, contrasts are the only means to arouse the 
mind to attention. To make the mind conscious of the 
property of size, it is necessary to present great and small THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
47 
objects; and the greater the contrast, within convenient 
limits of sensual perception, the more readily will the 
mind be aroused. Thus it will be led to attend to shape 
much more readily by contrasting round and angular 
bodies than by contrasting spheres with spheroids. 
On the other hand, contrasts are connected by inter- 
mediate degrees of the same properties in other objects. 
Between great and small we have many intermediate 
sizes: black is connected with white by all the shades 
of color that lie between. Froebel designates these inter- 
mediate degrees of the same property by the term u con- 
nection of contrasts” The readiness with which this 
connection is discovered depends on the similarity 
among the successive members of a series. Thus it 
might be difficult to discover the similarity between 
black and white; yet a very dark red resembles black, 
just as a very light red resembles white, quite closely. 
Here, then, the shades of red form the connecting links 
by which the similarity of black and white, as colors, is 
discovered; or, rather, by which the relation existing 
between the two contrasts is revealed, and the unity 
that embraces them brought out. 
All thinking, all mental activity is reducible' to the 
discovery of such relationships; and the law of the con- 
nection of contrasts pervades every step in the growth 
of an idea. Perceiving, observing, comparing, judging, 
concluding, are the successive stages of the process that 
takes place in the formation of an idea; and in each of 
these stages the process rests on the law of the connec- 
tion of contrasts. It will be readily seen that this law 
holds good in the moral as well as in the intellectual 
world; that, in the formation of taste and character, and 48 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
in the development and exercise of the muscular and 
expressive powers, the same law prevails. It is through 
contrast that we perceive and feel; and the desire to 
connect these contrasts—the effort to find their relation- 
ships, to discover or establish harmony in the apparent 
dissonance, the struggle for equilibrium, if you choose— 
underlies all our purposes and actions, all our saying 
and doing, so far, at least, as they lie in the direction of 
truth, beauty, and virtue. 
Already, in the first gift, we notice the constant appli- 
cations of this law: the contrasts in the colors, with the 
intermediate connecting links; the motions in opposite 
directions, in straight and curved lines; the ball itself, 
as a separate individuality, in opposition to the child as 
another contrasted individuality, etc. We sec how the 
child’s attention is aroused by contrasts; how eagerly it 
observes; how joyously it greets every new discovery of 
relationship, however vaguely this may impress its 
mind; how, indeed, the more or less vague discovery of 
the relationship between the motions of the hall and its 
own motions of life, transform the ball into a dear play- 
fellow. The second gift, consisting of a wooden ball, cube, 
and cylinder, offers a number of valuable contrasts with 
reference to the first gift, as well as among its own 
members. 
The wooden sphere forms a more or less decided con- 
trast with the soft elastic ball of the first gift, in its 
hardness, in the greater smoothness of its surface, in its 
greater weight, and, consequently, in the greater noise 
which it occasions on being dropped or rolled on the 
floor. The last two contrasts seem to give particular 
pleasure to the child, since they offer it proofs of its THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
49 
increased strength; and if it delights in beating the 
floor with the wooden ball, it is less for the love of the 
noise, as such, than as an expression and proof of its 
greater strength and skill. An additional contrast may 
bo introduced by giving the child two wooden spheres— 
one white and the other black: for this contrast, the 
balls of the first gift would offer the connecting links. 
The wooden sphere,* cube, and cylinder introduce 
the child, by means of their important contrasts and of 
their peculiar properties, to an entirely new and more 
extensive field for the exercise and development of its 
powers. In the first place, the sphere represents motion; 
the cube, rest. While the ball and sphere have yielded 
readily to even the slightest impulse, the cube resists 
quite stubbornly. It refuses to roll; and when the force 
applied is sufficient to set it in motion, it merely slides, 
and comes to a stand as soon as the moving force is with- 
drawn. When it has been turned on one of its edges or 
corners, it settles quickly on one of its faces, and again 
stands. 
Again, the sphere forms clear contrasts with the 
cube in shape and number. The former presents but 
one unbroken, uniformly curved surface, free of edges 
and corners; the latter presents on its surface many 
straight faces (planes) and edges, as well as many corners. 
The former is ever the same in whatever position it may 
assume; the latter presents a variety of aspects, according 
to its position with reference to the eye. 
For all these contrasts, the cylinder offers the connec- 
*1 shall, hereafter, call this simply the sphere, to distinguish it 
from the balls of the first gift. 50 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
tion. It presents more faces than the sphere, and less 
than the cube. One of these faces is curved in one of its 
dimensions, and the others are plain. While it has no 
corners, it has two curved edges. In its aspects, it is 
more variable than the sphere, and less variable than 
the cube. Its value as a connecting link becomes par- 
ticularly evident when we suspend the cube, by a string 
fixed to the middle of one of its sides: when it is rapidly 
revolved in this position, it will present the shape of a 
cylinder. If, then, the cylinder is similarly revolved, 
while suspended by a string fixed to one of its edges, it 
will present the shape of a sphere. 
The second gift is placed in the hands of the child at 
or about the age of six months. In addition to the law 
just enounced and illustrated, the mother or nurse, in 
her plays with the child, is guided by similar consider- 
ations, as in the use of the first gift. Here, too, the 
attention of the child must be thoroughly aroused and 
fixed; care must be taken not to wreary or to surfeit; 
each successive play must have some connection with 
preceding ones—must grow out of them, as it w'ere; the 
voice—language and song—must be the constant inter- 
preter of whatever is done—must furnish clear signs or 
symbols of the impressions; independent self-activity 
on the part of the child must be more and more encour- 
aged. 
Of course, the balls of the first gift are by no means 
thrown aside, when the second gift is placed in the 
hands of the child. On the contrary, it will often 
delight to use one or more of them in the old plays, to 
invent new plays with them, or to combine them with 
the playthings of the second gift. Thus the balls will THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
51 
become ever more useful, more beautiful, and lienee ever 
dearer to it. Only if this is encouraged, the transition 
can be gradual and continuous; only if this is done, the 
connection between the old and the new acquisitions 
can become organic. Besides, the child must be taught, 
even at this tender age, not to throw old acquaintances 
and friends selfishly and ungratefully aside, as soon as 
new ones, with other or brighter features, are introduced. 
The arrangement and character of the plays them- 
selves must be left, as in the first gift, mainly to the 
mother or nurse, who avails herself of favorable oppor- 
tunities to introduce the playthings in new characters, 
with due regard, however, to the principles heretofore 
enounced and illustrated. It is merely by Avay of sug- 
gestion that I enumerate a few of the many uses to 
which they can be put. 
With the sphere, Ave may repeat many of the plays 
that delighted, instructed, and exercised the child, Avhen 
they Avere made Avith the ball. On account of its greater 
Aveight and hardness, the sphere Avill express many 
things Avith greater clearness than was the case with 
the ball; and a ucav charm as AA7ell as a new element 
for combination is lent to them by the greater noise 
which the sphere makes in rolling, falling, and striking. 
There are tAvo plays suggested by Froebel, which bring 
out the character of the sphere as the representative of 
motion and of unchangeableness in its aspect so clearly, 
that they must, at least, be hinted here. In the first of 
these, the sphere is placed near the rim of a saucer or 
plate. If, then, the saucer or plate is inclined slightly 
and alternately in opposite directions, the sphere Avill 
revolve rapidly about its own axis and along the rim. 52 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
In the second of these plays, the ball is suspended by a 
double string, and is caused to spin very rapidly on its 
own axis by alternately twisting and untwisting the 
string in opposite directions. Both these motions should 
be attended appropriate little songs similar to the 
following: 
Ever round I dance and spin, 
Never falling, never tripping; 
Closer, closer to the rim, 
Smooth and even, never slipping. 
Or: However fast I spin and race, 
I always show the same round face. 
Or: Oh, what joy, to race and run! 
Will you join me in the fun? 
Or; Dancing, spinning, up and down, 
I’m ever glad, I never frown. 
Or the mother may enter, with the child, into a sort of 
dialogue in which, however, she will have to speak for 
the child as well as for herself: “What is the ball 
doing?” “It rolls.” “What is it doing now?” “It 
swings.” “Who swings?” “Who rolls?” The child 
will soon repeat the words, “rolls,” “swings,” etc., and 
will succeed much sooner in its efforts to speak. Or 
the plaything may be admitted as a third party in 
the conversation: “Come, now, dear ball, and dance for 
my darling. Here, jump into the plate. Now begin 
slowly, slowly; now faster, faster. See how it runs! 
How glad it is! Are you not tired yet?” “Oh, I am 
so tired!” “See, it is tired! shall we let it stop?” 
“Yes, we will, if it wants to stop.” “You want to 
stop, do you?” “Yes.” “And go to bed?” “Yes, go THE EARLIEST PERIOD. 
53 
to bed.” “Well, you shall.” “See, now it goes slowly, 
slowly; and now it stops. You may put it to bed 
now, my darling. There, that is a kind little darling. 
And now we will let it sleep and rest.” 
The cube (or die) is placed somewhat vigorously 
before the child and told to stand firm. “There, now, 
stand firm; stand firm, quite firm, and do not roll; and 
do not turn.” Attempts may be made to move it by 
a slight pressure from the hand or finger of the child. 
The mother or nurse, too, may make similar efforts, 
but so that the cube does not move. “See, the cube 
(die) does what we will—stands there in its place quite 
still.” Or: “See, the cube desires to stand—does not 
mind your little hand.” At last, by pushing harder, the 
mother or child overcomes its resistance and succeeds 
in shoving it along. “It has lain here long enough. 
Shove it harder! See it move!” Or; “Ever on this spot 
you lie! I shall move you by and by.” Or; “Ever on 
this spot you stay! Come, I’ll help you slide away.” 
Again, it may be placed on one of its edges and 
steadied loosely with two fingers. “It does not know 
which way to go, and totters feebly to and fro.” Or: 
“Stand on one foot, if you can.”—“I can not do it, little 
man.” Or: “Steady, steadjq little man. Stand alone now, 
if 3rou can.” In the same position it may be steadied, 
leaning with one of its faces against another object. 
“With my back against the wall, I am safe, and shall 
not fall.” Or it may be revolved, one corner resting on 
the table, the opposite one steadied by a finger. “Mer- 
rily, merrily dance around! Onty one foot on the 
ground.” 
Again, the cube may be inclosed in the hand so as to KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
show but one or two or three faces; it may swing or 
revolve on a string fastened to the middle of one of its 
faces or edges, or to a corner; or a stick of hard wood 
may be put through holes with which the cube is 
pierced through the middle of opposite faces, edges, or 
through opposite corners; and then the cube may be 
revolved rapidly upon these sticks so as to assume 
various connecting shapes. Similarly the cylinder may 
be used in a variety of plays that will suggest them- 
selves from what has been said of the sphere and cube, 
and from its own peculiar shape. 
Again, the playthings of the second gift may be com- 
bined with one another, with the balls of the first gift, 
or with other objects in the surroundings of the child, 
in an indefinite number of more complex plays, in order 
to establish certain contrasts more clearly or to connect 
them more fully; or they may be used to represent vari- 
ous animate and inanimate objects in actions, conditions, 
or relations that have come under the child’s notice, 
or to which it is intended to attract the child’s atten- 
tion. All these exercises should be accompanied by 
lively, child-like conversation, and sometimes by rhyth- 
mical speech or song, as has been indicated above. 
The language employed should always be simple, clear, 
concise, and pure; and in no case should the attend- 
ants of the child indulge in so-called “baby-talk,” than 
which nothing more efficient could be invented to 
retard the development of the expressive as well as of 
the formative powers of the child. CHAPTER IV. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE FAMILY THIRD, 
FOURTH, FIFTH, AND SIXTH GIFTS. 
The third gift consists of a two-inch cube divided 
into eight smaller cubes by being cut once in each of its 
three dimensions. This gift, too, was not arbitrarily 
chosen by Froebel. Observing children from one to 
three years old in their observations of objects, he 
noticed how, after having examined an object in regard 
to shape, color, and hardness, they attempted to sub- 
divide it—to “break it up”—in order to discover new 
qualities in it or to find new uses for it. If the children 
succeeded in “breaking up” the object, they tried to put 
the parts together again, so as to restore the original 
shape, or form some new one. This seemed to call for a 
plaything which offered the contrasts of exterior and 
interior, whole and part, with their connections, and which 
united simplicity with great variability of shape; and 
this plaything he found in the cube bisected once in 
the direction of each dimension. 
This_ gift which Froebel also calls specifically “the 
child’s joy,” is given to the child at or about the age 
(55) 56 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
of two years, and forms, for a long period, an unfailing 
source for intellectual and emotional culture—one of the 
most fertile media for the exercise of productive power. 
For the intellectual side of the child’s nature, it offers 
forms of cognition, in which its parts are so combined as 
to give ideas of number, size, relation, shape, etc.; for the 
emotional side, it offers forms of beauty, in which its parts 
are arranged in definite groups with reference mainly to 
symmetry; for the productive side, it offers forms of life— 
more or less suggestive representations of surrounding 
animate and inanimate objects. It will appear, how- 
ever, hereafter, that we can not and should not always 
adhere strictly to this subdivision of the great number 
of combinations of which this gift is capable. There 
are, and there should be, mixed forms in which the three 
sides are intimately blended, as they are in the life of 
man. Neither is it desirable that the child should 
pass through three distinct courses of plays, successively 
bringing out the forms of cognition, beauty, and life. 
So many circumstances, varying in almost each indi- 
vidual case, are to be taken into consideration in the 
selection and arrangement of plays, that tact and sym- 
pathy on the part of mother or nurse are the only safe- 
guards against error. This sketch of some of the 
leading plays is, therefore, again more suggestive than 
prescriptive. 
Still, it is necessary, in every case, to bring the new 
gift to the child’s notice in such a way as to bring out, 
in full relief, the principal contrast which it is intended 
to introduce—the contrast of whole and parts. The box 
containing the new gift must not be emptied carelessly 
or boisterously into the child’s lap, so that the small THE THIRD GIFT. 
57 
cubical blocks will lie in wild confusion before its more 
startled than eager, more frightened than delighted 
gaze. If the box has a sliding lid, it is inverted before 
the lid is withdrawn, and then carefully lifted off the 
cube, so that the latter stands unbroken, as a whole, 
before the child. Then the mother breaks it up slowly, 
step by step, by successive division and subdivision 
(two, four, eight), into its component parts. In the 
accompanying words, she points out simply the increase 
in the number of parts and the decrease in their size, 
in a general way, without reference to numerical rela- 
tions, which are beyond the child’s apprehension, and 
for which this gift is to prepare it. She then recon- 
structs the original cube, and leaves it to the self-active 
child. 
It will amuse itself for hours in breaking up the 
cube into its parts, in combining and recombining these 
in various ways, in piling them on one another, in 
arranging them in rows in different directions. In 
these plays, tire mother may sometimes assist—and the 
child will often invite this sympathy—by following the 
actions of the child and accompany them with appro- 
priate words, as: “ Up, down; before, behind; right, left, 
etc. The child may even be induced, in the course of 
time, to go through these games rhythmically, in accord- 
ance with combinations of words, like the following: 
Up—down, up—down; up—up, down—down; left—right, 
left—right; left—left, right—right, etc. 
After this general introduction, m37 sketch will gain 
in clearness if I present some of the leading plays with 
the third gift, under the headings: “Forms of Life, Forms 
of Beauty, Forms of Cognition While, on the one hand, it 58 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
can not be denied that the interest of the child will, at 
first, be more deeply and, hence, more profitably enlisted 
by forms of life, and that the forms of cognition, at least so 
far as they relate to number and size, should come last, 
I must again warn against following this subdivision 
too strictly in practice. Indeed, the plays suggested in 
the introduction of this gift to the child, are forms of cog- 
nition with which the child, however, is already more or 
less familiar from its plays with previous gifts, and 
which, therefore, contribute not a little to the establish- 
ment of an organic connection between the new gift and 
the old ones: they are more serviceable, indeed, for this 
purpose than any forms of life or beauty that could be 
imagined. It may be said, in a general way, that they 
make the young human being acquainted with his new 
plajdhing, the forms of life and beauty teach him to love 
it, and induce him to study it, in the new forms of cogni- 
tion, with wholesome zeal. 
Forms of life are more or less suggestive representa- 
tions of surrounding objects. The accompanying plate 
.(Plate I) indicates twenty simple arrangements of the 
eight small cubes, representing a table, chairs, walls, a 
door or gate-way, a fire-place, wells, a trough, ladders, 
crosses, a locomotive, a tunnel, a bridge with keeper’s 
lodge. Rude as they are, these outlines are sufficiently 
clear to suggest to the child the objects in question, either 
independently or with the mother’s aid. Indeed, their 
verj" rudeness is one of their virtues, since it compels the 
child’s imagination to make a wholesome effort in filling 
them out and endowing them with the full likeness to 
the objects they suggest. When the child does not inde- 
pendently discover the likeness of some familiar object THE THIRD GIFT. 
59 
in a given form, and when, consequently, the mother 
desires to aid its imagination, care should be taken to 
select objects which the child has had an opportunity to 
observe. Any of the forms indicated in Plate I may be 
used to represent a number of other objects besides the 
ones assigned to them in the plate. Thus, figure 1 may 
represent a stool, a meat-block, or a box; figure 2, a 
hearth, a bureau, or a forge; figure 18, a factory, etc. If 
the same form is used on different occasions to repre- 
sent different objects, great caution is needed in order to 
avoid confusion in the child’s mind. In most cases, 
indeed, it is easy to make a slight modification in the 
arrangement of the blocks, which suggests or indicates 
the new object. If, on the other hand, the child makes 
such transformations independently, as a result of its 
own observation, they should be freely encouraged. 
From the very beginning, the mother should per- 
sist in her efforts to accustom the child to order in 
these plays. It must learn not to throw down in wild 
confusion—not to destroy the results of its work. New 
forms must either grow by proper modifications from 
old ones, or be constructed from the cube, as a whole. 
But these efforts should never become pedantic; they 
should never appear to the child in the character of 
restraint; it must rather be led to discover that this 
order, alone, will enable it to attain its purposes rapidly 
and satisfactorily; it must be led to love it as the only 
sure road to success. The mother should interfere as 
little as possible with the self-activity of the child: her 
own activity should be more aiding than directing. 
Whenever she assists in the plays, she should try to dis- 
cover the intentions of the child, and enter into these 60 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
with child-like sympathy, at the same time entertain- 
ing and instructing the child by means of short conver- 
sations, stories, etc., relating to the objects in question. 
Thus the form represented in figure 3 may be greeted 
as follows: “Whose chair is this? It is grandmother’s 
easy-chair, is it not? Come, grandmother, sit down and 
tell a little story to my darling.” 
When figure 4 has been obtained from the former, the 
mother may continue: “Oh, what a nice chair for my 
little pet! And here is another for little sister. Come, 
sister (changing the form to figure 1), and have some 
dinner; come, the table is set.” 
Figure 10 or 11 may be enlivened with words like 
these: “From this well, papa gets water, when he is 
thirsty. Mamma gets water from it for her flowers or to 
wash her little pet.” 
Or figure 12: “Here comes the cow with her little 
calf, to drink water from the trough: they are so thirsty! 
How glad they are to get a drink! Now they have 
enough, and go away. And here comes John with two 
horses; he wants to let them drink, too.” Two fingers 
of the right hand may represent cow and calf; and three 
fingers of the left hand, John and the two horses. 
As a model story for somewhat more advanced chil- 
dren, I offer the following, suggested Froebel, for 
figures 13 and 14: “ Father gave Freddie leave to pluck 
some cherries from the tree in the garden. Freddie got 
the heavy house-ladder (figure 13) from the barn; but 
when he wanted to raise it and lean it against the tree, 
it fell and broke to pieces. See, there it falls and 
breaks! Frank, the gardener, saw this, and said, ‘You 
must not use the heavy house-ladder in the garden, and THE THIRD GIFT. 
61 
to get up in the cherry-tree; you ought to use the light 
step-ladder.’ Freddie saw that Frank was right, and 
went to fetch the step-ladder. See, here it stands (fig- 
ure 14). And now he went high up and plucked beau- 
tiful cherries. He ate ever so many; but he gave some 
to Frank, and some to papa and mamma.” 
Again, the child must be accustomed, mainly by the 
mother’s example, to use in each form or play the 
entire number of small cubes. This does not mean that 
the entire number of cubes should represent only one 
thing; but each cube must represent some thing in con- 
nection with the principal form. Thus, in the bridge 
(figure 20), the odd cube is used as a keeper’s lodge; in 
figure 4, one of the chairs may be changed into a table 
by changing the position of the highest block; the 
trough (figure 12) may be made with six cubes, the 
remaining two cubes may then represent two water- 
buckets; the house-ladder (figure 13) maybe constructed 
from seven cubes in a single row; the step-ladder may 
be closed at the top with one block; and the eighth 
cube may represent Freddie in the above little story. 
The importance of this law will become still more 
evident, when we consider the forms of beauty, or arrange- 
ments of the cubes in definite groups with reference 
mainly to symmetry. (A number of such forms are 
represented in Plate II.) Indeed, if the child, in its 
plays with the third gift, has acquired the habit of 
using the entire number of cubes, it will frequently 
obtain forms which, while they please the child, 
baffle its efforts to see in them representations of sur- 
rounding objects—forms which, while they satisfy the 
child in a manner, “do not make any thing.” The 62 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
watchful mother or nurse will give expression to the 
child’s delight over such results of its play in words like 
these: “How nice! How pretty! How beautiful!” 
The child will soon begin to aim at the construction 
of such forms, and will announce its success in words 
similar to the ones heard from the mother’s lips on pre- 
vious occasions. At such times, the mother may begin 
to take an active part in the play, and teach the child 
the art of endowing these forms of beauty with a peculiar 
life of their own. It will be noticed, by reference to the 
first four figures in Plate 11, that they are modifications 
of one and the same fundamental form, and that these 
modifications are due to certain movements in the four 
outer cubes. In the first figure, the inner and outer 
cubes stand face to face; in figure 2, they stand edge to 
edge; in figure 3, the faces of the outer set are opposite 
the edges of the inner; and in figure 4, the reverse is the 
case. 
These games may be varied indefinitely, since any of 
the forms suggested in Plate 11, and many more, may 
be chosen as starting-points; and since each form offers 
at least four varieties of plays, cither the outer or the 
inner set may be revolved, and each set may revolve 
either to the right or to the left. The propriety of more 
complicated plays, in Avhich both sets of cubes move 
alternately and in varying directions, is very doubtful. 
It is essential, too, for the aesthetic value of these plays, 
or “dances” (a name suggested by Froebel), to observe a 
certain order. If a given set has started in a given 
direction, it should “dance” through all the successive 
figures, without omission, before it returns in the oppo- 
site direction. THE THIRD GIFT. 
The charm and value of these plays may be enhanced 
very much by means of little songs similar to the fol- 
lowing : 
How merrily we dance and play! 
Oh, come! you can not stay away. 
See, now on edge, and now on face, 
We turn and glide from place to place. 
Or: Ever fresh and ever new 
Is the face we show to you; 
Ever changing, still the same: 
What a merry, pretty game! 
Or: With laughter and glee 
We dance hut for thee; 
Thy joy is our pleasure, 
Thy smile is our treasure. 
Or: Now we go, and now we stand 
At the bidding of your hand. 
Ever round and round we glide 
Merrily from side to side. 
The forms of cognition deal mainly with ideas of num- 
ber, size, shape, relation, etc. The child, undoubtedly, 
notices the divisibility of the cube in all its plays; but, 
in the course of time, it becomes desirable, if not nec- 
essary, that its vague notions on this subject be made 
clearer and more definite. 
The entire cube is again placed before the little 
learner, and his attention is directed to it as the whole 
cube. Grasping the four smaller cubes on the left with 
the fingers of the left hand, and the four on the right 
with the fingers of the right hand, the mother divides 
the whole cube into two half cubes. These motions are 
repeated several times in succession, and are accom- 
panied by the explanatory words: 64 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
The whole cube—two half cubes; 
Two half cubes—the whole cube. 
And subsequently: 
The (a) whole (one)—two halves; 
Two halves—the (a) whole (one). 
At another time, the exercise is varied by dividing 
the cube from front to rear, and, again, from below 
upward. At last, these three plays may be united into 
one; 
Half to right—half to left, 
Half before—half behind, 
Half above—half below. 
Subsequently, the halves may bo subdivided into 
fourths (or quarters), and these into eighths; and the 
series of plays again united into one: 
The (a) whole (one)—two halves, 
One half—two fourths (quarters), 
Two halves—four fourths (quarters), 
The whole (one)—four fourths (quarters); 
Four fourths—eight eighths, 
Eight eighths—the whole (one). 
Now we ’re many, now we ’re few; 
Are we not a merry crew ? 
Or: The few are large, the many small, 
And yet we are not changed at all. 
Again, plays may be contrived in which the cubes 
composing the two halves appear in different shapes or 
relative arrangements (Plate 11, figures 17, 18, 19), in 
order to impress the child with the fact that, although 
differing in appearance, they are still the same in num- 
ber and size; THE THIRD GIFT. 
65 
However high you rise, 
I equal you in size; 
And though you reach so high, 
You are not more than I. 
It will be noticed, too, that the faces, edges, and cor- 
ners offer abundant material for instructive plays in 
number, size, shape, and relations of position. 
In all these plays, it must be remembered that they 
are not “school-lessons”—that the child is not expected 
“to know next time” what it has been taught. The 
plays should be repeated again and again; but must 
never be persisted in ad nauseam, or murdered by ped- 
antry. Indeed, the mother should learn to discontinue 
them, each time, before the child shows any signs of 
weariness or lack of interest; she should study to invent 
ever new modes of endowing them with life, in order 
to bring them nearer to the life and, hence, to the 
sympathy of the child. The only aim is, that the child 
should gradually get the impressions in question with 
sufficient clearness to recognize them when they recur, 
and that it should gradually learn to see them in 
their names. And there can be no doubt that these 
plays, played lovingly and intelligently, will be of inval- 
uable benefit to the child in the culture of its senses, 
and in securing a firm foundation for “future clearness 
of understanding, depth of feeling, and firmness of pur- 
pose.” 
The limits of this sketch will not admit of as detailed 
an account of the remaining gifts of this class as was 
indulged with the first three gifts of this class. All 
that I am permitted to do is to point out, in a few words, 
their peculiarities, trusting the thoughtful reader with 66 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
the by no means unpleasant task of devising an appro- 
priate course of plays with each gift. 
The fourth gift consists of a cube of the same size 
as the one of the third gift. This cube is divided 
into eight brick-shaped blocks by one horizontal and 
three vertical cuts (Plate 111, figure 1). The principal 
new element in this gift is the difference in the dimen- 
sions of each part, or brick—the height, breadth, or 
thickness being in the proportion of 4, 2, and 1. It 
serves, therefore, among other things, mainly for the 
purpose of bringing clearness into the child’s notions of 
the dimensions of bodies. In consequence of the differ- 
ences in the dimensions of the parts, the variety of 
forms that can be constructed with this gift is much 
extended. This applies particularly to the forms of 
beauty. At the same time, greater concentration or, if 
you choose, calculation, is required on the part of the 
child to produce symmetry. Two other new elements 
that enter markedly in this gift and that give rise to 
many plays of great interest to the child, are derived, in 
the first place, from the smaller stability of the bricks 
compared with the cubes, when the former are placed on 
their narrower faces, and from the phenomena of the 
propagation of force, as illustrated in Plate 111, figure 7. 
The forms of cognition again deal mainly with ideas of 
shape, size, and number, with the extension that 
shape and size may be made to refer here to surfaces as 
well as to solids, and that, in number, definite exer- 
cises in addition, subtraction, and, to a limited extent, 
even in division and multiplication become practicable 
and admissible. 
The fifth gift (Plate IV, figure 1) consists of a three- THE SIXTH GIFT. 
67 
inch cube cut three times in each of its dimensions, so 
as to divide it into twenty-seven smaller cubes of the 
same size as those of the third gift. Three of these 
smaller cubes (Plate IV, figure 1, b—b) are cut once 
diagonally, and three others (figure 1, c—c) are cut 
twice diagonally. The whole gift, therefore, is made up 
of thirty-nine pieces. This gift, which can not, gen- 
erally, be used with profit before the fifth year, is an 
extension of the third gift, and contains, as new ele- 
ment, the oblique lines and faces. The sixth gift 
(Plate IV, figure 12), on the other hand, is an exten- 
sion of the fourth. It contains twenty-seven brick- 
shaped blocks of the same dimensions as those of the 
fourth gift: six of these are bisected in the direction of 
their breadth, and three in the direction of their length, 
into square prisms. The full consideration of these gifts 
belongs to a complete manual; but it would weigh too 
heavily on a sketch like the one intended here. We 
give, however, in Plate IV, a few typical forms peculiar 
to them. 
I have, throughout, in the above sketch, for the sake 
of unity, supposed the child to be in charge of its mother 
or nurse, and I shall continue this supposition in the 
next two chapters, dealing with tablets, sticks, and 
drawing. In this lam so much the more justified, since 
it is possible, and even desirable, to carry on these plays 
in the home. After the chapter on drawing, when I 
come to consider the plays for which the kindergarten, 
as such, becomes indispensable, it will be time to point 
out where it begins to make use of these games, respect- 
ively, to assist the mother in them. CHAPTER Y. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE FAMILY—TABLETS, 
STICKS, PEAS. 
In the six gifts, described in the last, two chapters, 
the child has to do with solids, with forms that extend 
prominently in the three dimensions. All the forms of 
life were concrete representations of objects. The next 
step in the development of the ideas of which these gifts 
are the bearers is the gradual abstraction of surface. 
This is accomplished by means of a series of playthings 
whose parts extend prominently in only two dimen- 
sions, the third dimension being so small, relatively, 
that it may be left out of consideration without injury 
to clearness. 
These playthings consist of square and triangular 
tablets of wood or pasteboard, packed in a number of 
small boxes, according to the following scheme : 
1. One box, containing six square tablets, one inch 
square, or of the same dimensions as the six faces of the 
small cubes in the third gift. 
2. Five boxes, containing, respectively, 4, 8, 16, 32, 
and 64 tablets, obtained by the bisection of one-inch 
square tablets. TABLETS, STICKS, PEAS. 
69 
3. Four boxes, containing, respectively, 3, 6, 9, and 
12 equilateral triangular tablets, each side measuring 
two inches. 
4. One box, containing 64 tablets whose faces are 
obtuse-angled isosceles triangles, the side opposite the 
obtuse angle measuring two inches. 
5. One box, containing 56 tablets whose faces are 
right-angled scalene triangles, so arranged that the 
longer side of the right angle measures two inches, 
while the length of the shorter is only one inch. 
The first of these boxes of tablets may be placed in 
the hands of the child as soon as it has acquired some 
skill in its play with the fourth gift; the second box 
may follow shortly after the fifth gift has been placed in 
its hands; and the remainder may be taken up after- 
wards, successively, at proper intervals. The reasons 
for this 'are evident. In the first place, the child must 
not be disturbed with the abstractions introduced by the 
tablets, until it has clearly felt the fact that solids 
extend in three dimensions; and this clearness results 
from familiarity with the fourth gift. In the next place, 
the triangular tablets should not be taken up before the 
child has noticed the triangular faces introduced in the 
fifth gift. 
The forms that can be obtained with these tablets 
may again be considered as forms of life, of beauty, and 
of cognition. The forms of life are, however, no longer 
concrete representations, but only more or less suggestive 
images of certain objects; the forms of beauty arc much 
more numerous and varied; and the forms of cognition 
offer greater scope, particularly in reference to shape. 
In placing these sets of tablets before the child, care 70 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
must be taken, as heretofore, to give at once marked 
prominence to the new contrasts. Thus, the six square 
tablets of the first box are, as it were, corporeal repre- 
sentations of the six square faces of the cube. They are, 
therefore, placed upon the six faces of a small cube of 
the third gift, so as to envelop it wholly. In this condi- 
tion, they are brought to the child’s notice; then they 
are removed one by one, peeled off, as it were, and exam- 
ined in reference to their form and extent, the number 
and relative extent of their sides, the number and rela- 
tive value of their angles, etc. As soon as these tablets 
have ceased to be strangers to the child, their number 
should be increased to eight, in order to give the child 
greater scope, more especially in the forms of beauty. 
Similarly, the second series of tablets should be intro- 
duced in such a way that the child may see clearly how 
they are formed by single or double bisection of square 
tablets; in the third series, the number three in the 
three equal sides and in the three equal angles of the 
three equilateral triangles, and the persistent obliquity 
of the sides, in all combinations, must receive promi- 
nence; in the fourth series, the obtuse angle, and, in 
the fifth series, the inequality of the sides, offer the 
principal new elements. 
For the reader who desires a few suggestive starting- 
points, in order to obtain an idea of the multitude of 
forms that can be construed with these tablets, we have 
appended representations of a limited number of typical 
forms in Plates V, VI, and VII. Their classification 
is indicated in the plates. 
The next abstraction, for which the child must be 
prepared in the plays of this class, is the line. This is TABLETS, STICKS, PEAS. 
71 
accomplished by means of pieces of straw or thin wooden 
sticks, two inches long: matches from which the phos- 
phorus has been removed, will answer the purpose very 
well. 
As the tablets were looked upon as corporeal repre- 
sentations of the faces of the cube, so the sticks may be 
considered as corporeal representations of its edges or of 
the sides of the tablets—as corporeal representations of 
straight lines. They may be brought to the child’s notice 
in connection with the cube of the second gift or with 
four square tablets arranged in a larger square; they 
may then be removed one by one from the edges or sides, 
as the tablets themselves Avere peeled off a small cube 
of the third gift. Of course, they are not to be placed 
in the child’s hands before it has been prepared for 
their use by some familiarity with the square tablets; 
but as soon as this has been gained—or betAveen the 
ages of four and five—two, three, four, and more of these 
sticks are added to its playthings in proper, successive 
intervals of time. 
The forms of life are, here, mere outlines; but, on 
account of the greater mobility of the elements, their 
number and variety is greatly increased, giving much 
Avider scope to the exercise of the imitative powers of 
the child. Thus they supply a Avant of the tablets, 
which, on the other hand, are richer in forms of beauty, 
and offer a greater field to its inventive poAvers. 
The forms of cognition bring ever greater clearness 
into the child’s notions of shape, size, relative position, 
and number; indeed, they offer the means, not only for 
complete, fixing revieAvs of the ideas that have been 
gained from solids and surfaces, but they furnish, also, 72 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
the missing connecting links. It will be shown here- 
after to what great advantage they can be used, even 
in the elementary grades of the school, either in connec- 
tion with some other gifts or independently, for the pur- 
poses of developing and fixing clear ideas of shape, 
number, etc., and how invaluable they are as aids to 
imitative as well as inventive drawing. (See Plates 
VIII and IX for a few typical forms appropriately 
classified.) 
More advanced children receive, in connection with 
the sticks just described, small pieces of wax, plastic 
clay, cork, or peas that have been soaked in water to 
render them sufficiently soft. These pieces of cement 
are the corporeal points of contact, as it were, for the 
sides of surfaces and the edges of solids, whose outlines 
the child may produce, with their assistance, as indi- 
cated in Plate IX, figures 10-16. CHAPTER VI. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE FAMILY—DRAWING. 
Without reference to its technical value, drawing is 
unquestionably one of the most important means of edu- 
cation. In all the preceding plays, it will have been 
observed how new ideas were gained by gradual abstrac- 
tion—by analysis—and how they were subsequently 
fixed by a multitude of synthetic exercises. This 
method was followed, not only in every detail, but also 
in the aggregate. From the solid, the child descended, 
step by step, analytically, to the surface to the line; 
from the line again it ascended, with the assistance ot 
cementing points, step by step, synthetically, to the sur- 
face—to the solid. Its notions of these and related ideas 
thus approached more and more the character of pure 
abstractions, without, however, being able to reach it. 
To enable it to do this, it needs less corporeal means than 
the tablets and sticks to represent its ideas to the senses, 
to test the correctness of its abstractions, and to fix 
them; and these means are offered in the drawing-slate 
and pencil. They enable it to indicate points, to diaw 
lines, to combine these into representations of surfaces 
K 7. (73) 74 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
and solids almost wholly free from the disturbing ele- 
ments of corporeality; they offer it an unlimited field 
for the synthesis of imitation as well as for the syn- 
thesis of invention. 
Slate and pencil offer the child the full connection 
between the abstract and the concrete, so far as the eye, 
the most fertile of all the senses, is concerned. Here 
concrete objects are freed of all the attributes of corpore- 
ality; and yet their pictures have a visible reality, and 
vividly recall the absent attributes. Here the child 
reproduces its ideas in a visible form. Ideas, abstrac- 
tions, that do not impress the sense of sight, are here 
transformed into sensible things by the child’s direct, 
conscious, independent activity. Here it feels, for the 
first time, the full delight of creating—creating, as it 
were, from nothing, whatever its fancy dictates. This 
accounts for the evident eagerness with which it returns 
again and again to slate and pencil, for the proud satis- 
faction with which it lingers over them, provided it has 
been properly guided in their use. 
Slate and pencil may be placed in the child’s hands 
at quite an early period—say about the third year of its 
life. It will derive pleasure and information from the 
noise which the pencil makes upon the slate at its bid- 
ding, as well as from the marks which the pencil leaves 
.on the smooth surface. It will watch the mother with 
delight when she makes curves, spiral or circular, mov- 
ing the pencil round and round; when she draws long, 
straight lines; when she produces graceful, wavy, or 
abrupt zigzag lines; when she sketches a little boy or 
girl, a horse, a pig, a bird, a tree, a house, a star, or some 
other thing of life or beauty. It will attempt in a rude DRAWING. 
75 
way to imitate her; and it will run to mamma again 
and again with the eager request, “Please draw a horse, 
a cat, a house,” etc., “for me.” 
About the fourth year of age, when the child has 
grown somewhat familiar with form, size, and number 
by having played with its blocks, tablets, and sticks, it 
becomes desirable to lead it more systematically into 
technical skill in reproducing its ideas on the slate. For 
this purpose, Froebel has invented a slate, on whose 
surface a net-work of lines is scratched, similar to the 
one indicated, on a reduced scale, in Plates X and XI. 
The lines are scratched at intervals of about a quarter 
of an inch, in two sets, at right angles to each other, 
and just deep enough to guide the child’s pencil to a 
limited extent. 
The child begins with the drawing of short vertical 
lines* extending from one intersection of two lines of 
the net to the one directly below. Care is taken, though 
without pedantry, that the child holds the pencil prop- 
erly, and presses upon it neither too much nor too little; 
that it begins and ends the lines exactly at the inter- 
sections; that it draws them deliberately and of equal 
thickness; and that it expresses, in clear words, Avhat it 
does. Thereupon, it draws similar lines twice, three, 
four, and five times as long. To go beyond this is not 
advisable at this period. 
These simple elements are then united in various 
ways, as suggested in Plate X, figures 4-10, according 
to the mother’s direction or the child’s fancy. 
Similarly, the child draws horizontal lines, and com- 
bines them with one another or with vertical lines, as 
suggested in Plate X, figures 11-15. 76 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
Subsequently, the oblique linos are undertaken, the 
points of intersection in the net-work affording the nec- 
essary points for determining the degree of obliquity, as 
well as the length of the lines. (Plate XI, figures 
16-25.) Again, a glance at the net-work will satisfy 
the reader that it offers equal facilities for guiding the 
little learner in the drawing of all kinds of curves. 
As soon as the child has acquired some skill in mak- 
ing straight lines, it will take delight in drawing upon 
the slate the forms which it has constructed with its 
sticks and tablets, and vice versa; to invent forms of 
beauty or life with the pencil, and to verify them after- 
ward with the tablets or sticks. Its pleasure will be 
greatly increased, and its powers will receive still wider 
scope, if, starting with some one of the forms obtained 
from tablets or sticks as a suggestive basis, it succeeds 
in representing it more fully and accurately truer to 
life—on the slate; if, for instance, the flower-pot (Plate 
IX, figure 2) appears on its slate in a more living 
form, the plant adorned with leaves and flowers, be 
they ever so rude; or if figure 26, Plate YIII, appears 
as a respectable little house with door, windows, chim- 
ney, etc. Another very profitable exercise is the draw- 
ing of the forms in question on reduced or extended 
scales. 
The forms of beauty obtained from tablets offei, at 
the same time, in their shadings, an opportunity for 
training the child’s hand and eye extensively in draw- 
ing lines less dependent on the lines and points of the 
net-work. (Plate XI, figures 26 and 27.) In these 
shadings, the child must be taught to draw the lines 
deliberately, with an even movement of the hand, par- DRAWING. 
77 
allel (or, at a later period, equally diverging), of the same 
thickness, and at equal distances, and to manage their 
direction so as to produce symmetry. 
Undoubtedly the cases of children with whom it 
might appear advisable or possible to go beyond these 
rude elements in drawing at this period (from the fourth 
to the seventh year), are so rare that we may safely con- 
clude this portion of our sketch here, leaving further 
developments to the school. 
In conclusion, allow me to repeat that, during all 
these exercises, we must never lose sight of the fact 
that they are not merely the means for the acquisition 
of a useful accomplishment, but that their prime virtue 
and importance lie in their bearing upon the child’s 
abstractions of form, size, number, relative position, etc., 
and in their influence upon the £esthetic side of the 
child’s nature. I would not, by this remark, derogate 
the technical value of drawing; on the contrary, all who 
have followed me so far will feel that I must esteem it 
very highly; but, since its technical value lies so promi- 
nently near its surface, X would warn against losing 
sight of that which makes it valuable to the whole child, 
in all its relations of life. CHAPTER VII. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE KINDERGARTEN—SOCIAL 
GAMES. 
Heretofore we have had to do only with the indi- 
vidual development of the young human being, and we 
could, therefore, without detriment to our sketch, leave 
him in the exclusive charge of the family. We have 
still to consider an almost equally important phase of 
education—the social phase—which the family can not 
master without assistance, and this assistance is to be 
found in the Kindergarten. 
Society is not an accident, hut an essential condition 
of humanity; and man is wholly man only as a mem- 
ber of society. Hence the social instincts are founded in 
the organic nature of man as fully as his individual 
instincts. Hence the truism, that man is not to live for 
himself alone, but must form an integral part of the 
social organism. Hence our distrust and dislike of all 
that is egotistical, and our admiration of all that is 
humane, generous, liberal. Only in morally diseased 
communities will the selfish man who labors merely for 
himself be generally respected; in morally sound com- SOCIAL GAMES. 
79 
munities, the love and respect awarded to individuals, 
other circumstances being the same, are proportioned 
to their humanity. 
Happiness (this term, of course, excludes the transient 
pleasurable sensations resulting from the gratification of 
sensual appetites, as well as the stolid satisfaction of 
inactivity) can be attained only with the aid of society; 
and, if it is a privilege of man, it is so only of the man 
who does his duty. It is, and it should be, meted out to 
him in proportion to the fullness with Avhich he does his 
duty, in proportion to his usefulness—not his absolute, 
but his relative usefulness—the vigor and singleness of 
purpose with which he fills the station that circum- 
stances and his powers have assigned to him, the per- 
fection with which he does his work as an organic part 
of the social body. 
It does not lie within the scope of this sketch to point 
out the importance of social training with reference to 
the development of society as a whole, nor the manifold 
actions and reactions between the individual and society; 
and it is hoped that the preceding remarks will be suffi- 
cient to indicate the importance of training the social 
powers of the young human being, so that he may be 
able to attain full happiness through full usefulness. 
Even during the earliest period of life, the child 
announces its desire for society, the dread of being alone, 
by impatient or entreating cries that are readily 
hushed by the soothing presence of mother or nurse. 
When consciousness has more fully dawned upon its 
mind, it greets the members of the family with bright- 
ening eyes, convulsive motions of the limbs—leaps of 
joy, as it were—and shouts of delight; even strangers, 80 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
when the child has been accustomed to kindness, are 
received with decided marks of pleasure. For a long 
time, the society of the family members is sufficient to 
satisfy it, since, in almost all its doings, it needs the 
assistance of hands older and stronger than its own. At 
last, when it has begun to feel its powers and to delight 
more consciously in their exercise, it likes to patronize 
the younger brother or sister, or to treat its doll, perhaps 
its dearest plaything, as it has been treated by the older 
members of the family. It makes here, too, its syn- 
theses, based on its previous analyses of social relations. 
But soon these, too, fail to give it satisfaction. The 
sympathy of the older members of the household is that 
of superiors. The child feels that this sympathy is 
more or less “ put on” to please baby. They can guide 
it, show it how to do things; but they do all things 
so much better than it can do them, and, in all 
common undertakings, they take the greater share. 
On the other hand, the younger brother or sister fails 
to enter fully into its feelings or to do its full bidding 
for want of capacity; and the doll is, after all, without 
actual life. Not so with the neighbor’s little child. It 
is of about the same age. What it does, our little child 
can imitate fully; and it is sufficiently skilled to do 
fully the bidding of our little child. It enters freely 
and fully, with its whole soul, into the feelings and 
notions of our little child; and the latter is capable of 
appreciating fully every thing the little neighbor says 
or does: in short, it enjoys, in the society of the little 
neighbor, the full delight of being with an equal, 
an other J, wdth whom it can share labor and enjoy- 
ment in equal portions—an equal whose efforts it can SOCIAL GAMES. 
81 
emulate successfully, and whose pleasure neither 
exceeds its powers of appreciation nor falls short of its 
expectation. Need we wonder, if an intimate friendship 
springs up between the two neighbors, and if they are 
most active and happiest when they are together? 
How eagerly it tries to please the little playmate— 
to be useful! How, in return, it derives profit and 
pleasure from the intercourse! How joyfully both clap 
their hands and raise their shouts over their successes! 
All its powers, receptive and expressive, its entire being, 
mental and physical, are strengthened in proportion to 
the efforts it makes to assist, to do for, or to do with its 
associate. Soon our two friends are joined by other 
neighbors; and, in the course of time, the little circle 
grows into a miniature society, which enables the child 
more and more fully to become conscious of its indi- 
vidual power to give pleasure to others, and of the 
many pleasures which it can obtain only with the aid 
of its associates—a society which continually enables it 
to take lessons in love and self-respect, in duty and 
privilege, in humility and self-esteem, in subordination, 
coordination, and independence. 
This little society suggested to Froebel the Kinder- 
garten; and, indeed, all it needs to become a kinder- 
garten—a children’s garden—is the hand of the gardener— 
a person endowed with the necessary amount of child- 
like spirit, tact, and experience, who will train the 
tender plants in the way they should grow, who will 
provide the circumstances most favorable to vigorous 
development, and who will keep away weeds and other 
hurtful things. 
As soon as the child can use its muscles deliberately, 82 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
its senses consciously, and is capable of giving expres- 
sion to its notions and wants, or when it is about four 
years old, it can get in the kindergarten what the family 
can not offer for want of individuals of the same or 
nearly the same age, and what its little neighbors, 
alone, can not offer for want of proper guidance—namely, 
vigorous and harmonious development of the social and 
the individual side of its nature. 
The principal means of the kindergarten by which it 
develops the social powers of the child, are found in the 
social games in which all the children take more or 
less important parts. In the selection and management 
of these games, the kindergartener must be guided by 
the same principles that apply to the occupations 
described in the previous chapters. The law of the 
connection of contrasts, of analysis and synthesis, of 
continuity, of self-activity, must control here, too. Nay, 
we might even divide these games, also, into games of 
cognition, of life, and of beauty, as was done with the 
plays and occupations considered heretofore. 
The games of cognition would then be those in which 
the aim is to develop new ideas, mainly with reference 
to the attributes and powers of the little society as con- 
trasted with the individual, or to present already exist- 
ing ideas in new forms, in order to fix them better or to 
extend their compass. Under this head may be classed 
the games of practice and skill, such as guessing-games, 
in which the powers of perception, conception, and 
judgment are tested and strengthened, and calisthenic 
games, in which certain muscles are exercised and 
trained. The games of life would be those in which 
the little circle represents certain things, animate and SOCIAL GAMES. 
83 
inanimate, in certain relations or actions—e.g., the game 
of fox and geese ] hawk and chickens] or the hunting 
game, in which various parties represent bushes, rab- 
bits, dogs, and hunters. The games of beauty would be 
those in which the children go through certain transi- 
tions in symmetrical arrangements, in various marches 
and dances. By way of suggestion, I append a few typ- 
ical games in rude outline. 
As soon as the child has lost its shyness, which, if it 
has been exposed to proper influences at home, may be 
the case on its first or second visit to the kindergarten, 
the contrast between the whole little society of play- 
mates and itself must be presented vividly and pleas- 
antly to its mind. This may be accomplished best a 
game in which the children are arranged in a circle, in 
such a way, however, that the older children who are 
familiar with the game are distributed so that they may 
serve as guides to the new-comers. One of these, bold 
or eager enough to offer for the position, or docile 
enough to do the kind bidding of the kindergartener, 
may be placed in the center of the circle, which then is 
set in motion, marching slowly around with hands 
clasped, and facing the central player, and singing an 
appropriate little ditty similar to the following: 
Welcome, welcome, pretty Charlie (Sallie), 
To our cheerful band! 
Come and join us in our pleasure, 
Walking hand in hand. 
The time required for the ditty will give Charlie 
ample opportunity to become quite forcibly and favor- 
ably impressed with the interest that every one around 
him seems to take in him, and he will accept the prof- 84 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
fered hand of the kindergartener (or of the older play- 
mate) and join the circle, eager to do his part in the 
play—to become assimilated, as it were, by the little 
society. This may be continued until all the new-com- 
ers are similarly initiated. If their number is so great 
that the game is threatened with irksomeness, two, or 
even more, may be greeted simultaneously, and the 
words brothers or sisters may be substituted in the ditty 
for Charlie. 
In a subsequent game, the little society is resolved 
(analyzed) into its component parts. Older children are 
placed at the proper points of the ring; and, during the 
march, it breaks up into two smaller rings. These are 
each similarly subdivided. Again, the resulting four 
rings are broken up into their individual elements; each 
child goes or stands where it pleases. The kindergart- 
ener increases the confusion by the assumed anxiety 
with which she asks for some of the younger children, 
and looks about for them. At last, she bids them stop 
and take their original places. This game may be 
accompanied by the following or similar verses: 
1. One, two, three, four—march around! 
[The march begins.] 
Keeping time to cheerful sound. 
Steady, steady! keep the ring, 
While our merry song we sing. 
2. Now our circle we divide, 
Keeping each its proper side. 
We were one, and now we ’re two; 
We were many, now we ’re few. 
3. Part again the little hands, 
Each one minding well the hands. 
Now we ’re broken into four: 
Left and right, behind, before. SOCIAL GAMES. 
85 
4. Let my little hands he loose, 
Let me go now where I choose. 
[.Hands are unclasped; each child,, following its own impxdse, 
remains standing or runs where it pleases; the kindergartener does her 
share in increasing the confusion.'] 
The interruption of the game at this point, this loss 
of harmony, will impress the child very forcibly with the 
unpleasant results of want of unity in the game; and it 
will return with great eagerness to its original place, at 
the bidding of the kindergartener, and sing again the 
first stanza; 
One, two, three, four—march around! etc 
After the repetition of the first stanza, the game 
may be continued, or it may end here, as circumstances 
will dictate. 
In order to arouse attention and to quicken the 
senses, as well as to bring the individuals nearer to one 
another, the guessing-games are of great value. Thus 
one of the players may be placed in the center of the 
circle and blindfolded. The ring is then set in motion, 
singing a little ditty like the following: 
Oh, how great is our pleasure, 
When together we play! 
When alone, without comrades, 
We are never so gay. 
But we see by our number 
That a playmate we miss. 
Will you tell us, dear Willie (Bessie), 
Who the missing one is? 
During the march and song, another of the players, 
designated by the kindergartener, who is also stationed 
in the circle, hides behind the kindergartener. At the 86 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
close of the song, the march is stopped. The bandage is 
removed from the eyes of the central player, who is now 
requested to guess who the missing playmate is. The 
latter then takes his or her place. 
This game may be modified in various ways. Thus 
the central player may remain blindfolded at the close 
of ditty, when he is called upon to guess the missing 
child by listening to its voice or by touching its gar- 
ments. In such cases, the third verse of the second 
stanza in the above ditty should be appropriately 
changed. Thus, for the first modification suggested here, 
it may run: 
“Can you tell by bis (her) singing?” etc. 
And for the second: 
“Can you tell, if you touch him (her)?” etc. 
A prominent place will be occupied by the calis- 
thenic games and exercises. To some extent, it is tiue, 
all the social games of the kindergarten are calisthenic. 
But, for the sake of conscious development of strength 
of muscle, as well as of grace and directness of move- 
ment, it is necessary that the child should frequently be 
practiced more or less systematically in these exercises. 
They may be accompanied with simple rhymes, or 
merely with words that need not be musical, although 
music will always add a new element of life and 
pleasure. Thus, the alternate rising and falling on the 
toes may be carried out as follows. The kindergartener 
sings recitatively: 
Your heels now close, 
To rise on your toes. 
Up, down! Up, down SOCIAL GAMES. 
87 
Here she is joined by the children, who, alternately ris- 
ing and falling on their toes, sing the words: “Up, 
down!—up, down!” etc. Or the exercise may be intro- 
duced by the spoken word, the children accompanying 
their motions, after the command has been given, as 
before. 
As an instructive review, and one in which the chil- 
dren will always take great pleasure, the following 
game is suggested. The children are arranged in a 
ring. With hands clasped, they begin a lively march to 
the following verses: 
Oh, a happy band are we, 
Marching round so merrily. 
They then halt and, relinquishing hands, sing: 
What each one does, we all will do; 
Let Harry show, now, something new. 
Harry makes some motion—claps his hands, alter- 
nately raises and lowers his arms, stamps with his foot 
on the ground, etc., several times. This all imitate 
rhythmically, singing: 
What Harry did, we all can do 
Are we not a skillful crew ? 
Then, with hands clasped, they resume their march : 
Oh, a happy band are we, 
Marching round so merrily. 
Coming to a halt the second time, they sing: 
What Harry did, we all can do; 
Let Bettie show us something new. 
Bettie complies, and the game continues ad libitum, but 
not ad nauseam. 88 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
Among the calisthenic games, the marches form a 
distinct group, which, on account of their naturally 
rhythmical movements, their flexibility, and their readi- 
ness to admit other elements, offer an inexhaustible 
source of pleasure, instruction, and exercise. The chil- 
dren may march in single, double, treble, or more-fold 
file. The files may move in relatively the same direc- 
tion throughout the game, or they may diverge at cer- 
tain points, and converge again at others. Again, the 
children may march in straight, zigzag, variously 
curved, wavy, or spiral lines, describing more or less 
symmetrical figures as they proceed; they may move 
evenly at a regular pace, or they may step with more 
force with one or the other foot, or change stej) at certain 
intervals; they may march on the soles or on the toes of 
their feet with various degrees of rapidity; they may 
have hold of one another’s hands, or they may march 
independently; in either case, they may go through a 
variety of movements with their arms, corresponding 
with the movements of the feet. Again, the}7’ may be 
arranged in two rows, facing each other, and go through 
a variety of related evolutions; or they may be arranged 
in three or four rows, forming the outlines of triangles 
or quadrilaterals, and produce the most delightful and 
instructive transformations. A few simple marching 
songs will suffice for these games. The directions should 
be short, simple, and to the point ; the older and more 
experienced children should be distributed so as to serve 
as guides and examples to the younger ones; the signals 
for changes in movements should be given by the hands 
or by short words of command, which, in some cases, 
may be repeated by a few of the older players, disposed SOCIAL GAMES. 
89 
as guides. But this subject is so extensive that we can 
only hint it here, reserving the details for a small 
manual to he devoted to the full discussion of social 
games. 
I conclude this portion of 1113- sketch with two ttqncal 
“games of life.” In the first of these—the game of the 
farmer—the accompanying song is an important feature, 
furnishing its explanation—the gestures, as it were; 
whereas, the second—the game of hunting—dispenses with 
song altogether, and gives unlimited scope to the exu- 
berance of spirits and dexterity of the players. 
In the game of the farmer, the children are arranged in 
a ring, and march around, hands clasped, to the follow- 
ing ditty: 
Can you tell me how the farm - er, Can you 
tell me how the farmer, Can you tell me how the 
farm -er Sows his wheat in the field ? 
The then halt in their march, unclasp their 
hands, pretend to hold with the left hand an imaginary 
bag of seeds tied around their waists, and imitate with 
the right hand the motion of sowing wheat, singing, at 
the same time: 90 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
See’t is thus the hus-y farm - er, See ’tis 
thus the bus-y farmer, See ’t is thus the bus-y 
farm -er sows his wheat in the field. 
At this point, they clasp hands again, and resume 
their march, singing the first stanza, in which they sub- 
stitute for the last verse: 
(2.) Mows his wheat in the field? 
The answer is given as before, the players imitating the 
motion of mowing. 
And thus the game continues, according to the fol- 
lowing scheme: 
QUESTIONS. 
1. Sows his wheat in the field? 
2. Mows Ids wheat in the field? 
3. Brings his wheat to the barn ? 
4. Threshes wheat in the barn ? 
5. Sells his wheat at the mill? 
Can you tell me how the farmer 
ANSWERS. 
1. Sows his wheat in the field. 
2. Mows liis wheat in the field. 
3. Brings his wheat to the barn. 
4. Threshes wheat in the barn. 
5. Sells his wheat at the mill. 
See! ’t is thus the busy farmer SOCIAL GAMES. 
91 
Other questions and answers have been added to this 
game; but they extend it beyond the limits of endur- 
ance on the part of the little players, hence I omit them 
here. 
At the third answer, the march is not interrupted. 
The first child holds its hands behind; they are seized 
by the next player; and so on, through the ring, each 
couple representing horse and wagon. At the fifth 
answer, the first child (representing the miller) holds 
with its left hand the extended open right hand of its 
neighbor (the farmer) and pretends to count money 
into it. 
In the game of hunting, one or more children rep- 
resent hunters. The others, when the game is played 
in a grove, represent deer, foxes, etc. They hide 
behind the trees, and the others try to catch them. 
They elude the efforts of the hunters, and if they suc- 
ceed in reaching a certain place, previously fixed upon, 
they can not be caught any more; those who are caught 
become assistants of the hunters. When the game is 
played in a room or in an open space devoid of trees, 
the latter are represented by children, arranged singly 
or in groups, at proper intervals. CHAPTER VIII. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE KINDERGARTEN THE 
GARDEN. 
Another important feature of the Kindergarten, and 
one which the family can not offer to the child, at least 
so far as its social elements are concerned, is the garden. 
In the garden, each child has its on n little bed, in 
which it may plant whatever it chooses, according to 
its own individual fancy. Scattered among these beds or 
arranged around them, there are a few larger ones which 
are intrusted to the care of groups of from three to five 
children. These larger beds are their common property. 
Here they raise and foster more and larger plants; here 
they work in common, with a common purpose, each 
little child doing its allotted task, coordinating and 
uniting its efforts with those of the other members of 
the group. The whole is inclosed by a narrow bed 
belonging to the whole little society. Here the plants 
are arranged, at the discretion of the kindergartener, 
with more or less reference to symmetry, as well as to 
the various classes of which they are the types. 
Figure 1, Plate XI, represents a garden 12 by 24 feet. THE GARDEN. 
93 
It contains sixteen small single beds, 1 by 2 feet each, 
for sixteen children, and four larger beds (A, B, C, D), 
2 by 3 feet, for groups of four children; the whole is 
inclosed on three sides by a bed 18 inches wide; walks, 
18 inches wide, separate the beds. This plan, in which 
there are no pretensions to beauty, is adapted to circum- 
stances in which space and means are limited. 
Figure 2, Plate XI, represents a larger garden, 24 feet 
squai e, for the same number of children. In the center, 
at T, is a tree or a fountain or, simply, a water-basin. 
The sixteen small beds, 1-16, are arranged in a circle 
around this; A, B, C, D are the group-beds; and the 
whole is again inclosed by a social bed, 18 inches to 2 
feet in width. In each corner of this bed, at t, a tree 
may be planted. 
Of course, the plan must, in each case, be adapted to 
circumstances, such as available room and means, num- 
ber of children, etc. Of these, the taste and judgment of 
the kindergartener must make the most. The essential 
feature in the form of the garden, viz, the contrast 
between individuals and society, as represented by the 
single beds and the social bed, and their connection by 
the group-beds, should, however, be held fast in all 
plans, be they ever so simple or ever so complicated. 
Where room is plentiful, the walks and free spaces in 
the garden may be enlarged sufficiently to fit them for a 
play-ground. 
In such a garden, the little folks play or work at 
stated times, singly, in groups, or as a little com- 
munity, independently or more or less led by the kin- 
dergartener. Here they plant seeds and seedlings, 
furnish the young organism with the circumstances 94 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
favorable to their development; here they become lov- 
ingly familiar with organic growth and its laws. 
Here they learn lessons of tenderness, charity, love; les- 
sons of forbearance, singleness of purpose, unselfish 
subordination to a common end. Here they learn to 
recognize themselves as growing organisms similar to 
their nurslings. Here they compare the results of their 
individual labors with those of the combined efforts of 
the groups and of the whole society, learning at once 
lessons of self-reliance in the proud consciousness of their 
power and of humility in the presentiment that they, 
too, are but parts of that 
“stupendous whole 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.” 
It is evident that the kindergartener, in order to con- 
duct these exercises properly, should have some knowl- 
edge of botany in general, as well as of horticulture in 
particular. Yet this knowledge need not enter into 
details, and is of far less importance than a deep love of 
nature and a child-like spirit, capable of sympathizing 
fully and clearly with all the wants, thoughts, and 
yearnings of her little learners. She must, above all 
things, know how to let them alone in the culture of 
their individual and group beds, without, however, per- 
mitting them to do things that are positively injurious. 
She must not direct and show too much; for failures, 
if not too frequent, are often the best teachers. She 
may encourage a healthy, unselfish, purely objective 
desire to excel; but she must be careful to obviate that 
venomous spirit of emulation which results in jealousy 
and envy, and which makes self the center of every 
thought and action. She may, in the groups, permit THE GARDEN. 
95 
the acknowledged supremacy of one or more children; 
but she must not allow it to degenerate into self-conceit 
or despotism, on the one hand, and into servility or want 
of self-reliance, on the other. The culture of the social 
bed will give her ample opportunities to teach the chil- 
dren things they did not know, and that can be applied 
by them independently in the smaller beds, as well as to 
correct or manage inequalities in skill and knowledge 
that threaten mischief. But here, too, while the children 
work under her direct supervision, she must not let 
them feel the control too much or too constantly, and 
must ever take into account the expressed or latent 
desires of the little ones. She must avoid all remarks 
that tend to invidious comparisons, while, at the same 
time, she should frame them so that each may profit 
the example of the others. She should never lose 
sight of the ends to be accomplished by the culture of 
the garden; must not allow the vain desire to shine 
before her patrons to enter her own heart. She must, 
in short, Avork Avith the little ones, as if she herself Avere 
a child—an ideal child, it is true, working or playing, if 
you choose, Avith ideal singleness of purpose and purity 
of motives, and a heart full of cheerfulness and joy. 
Where no room for a garden is at hand, a fcnv plants 
in boxes or flo Aver-pots may be distributed in conven- 
ient parts of the room. These are, indeed, a poor substi- 
tute for the garden; but they Avill, nevertheless, skill- 
fully handled, introduce the child to some familiarity 
Avith organic groAvth that Avill enable it better to feel 
and grasp the Avonders and beauties of nature. 
In all cases, an occasional walk or ride, according to 
distance, into open nature, a Arisit to the meadoAVS, 96 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
fields, and groves of the vicinity, will do much to invig- 
orate the body, to fill the mind, and to expand the 
heart of the child, and to save it from that sordid util- 
itarianism which blights the lives of thousands of men 
and women that have ever been strangers to a conscious, 
loving intercourse with nature. CHAPTER IX. 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE IN THE KINDERGARTEN—BUILD- 
ING-BLOCKS, TABLETS, STICKS, ETC.—DRAWING, WEAVING, 
FOLDING, MODELING, ETC. 
The plays with the building-blocks, tablets, sticks, 
etc., sketched in Chapters IV and V, will, undoubtedly, 
for a long time to come, be confined almost exclusively 
to the kindergarten; and, as far as individual training 
is concerned, all that has been said of their use in those 
chapters, may be transferred to this. The kindergarten 
offers, however, on account of its social characteristics, 
opportunities for variations and additional exercises that 
will render these means of occupation indispensable 
auxiliaries in its work, even after their full introduc- 
tion into the family. 
Thus, a class of children may be called upon to 
construct any form of life, beauty, or cognition, by dic- 
tation on the part of the kindergartener or of some older 
child, or in concert, according to the words of some 
appropriate ditty. These exercises will be found particu- 
larly useful with forms of beauty and cognition. 
Again, a number of children may unite their build- 
ing-blocks or tablets (the sticks are not manageable 
K. 9. (97) 98 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
enough for this purpose), and, together, construct more 
elaborate forms. For this purpose, too, larger blocks 
may be provided, giving them an opportunity to erect 
quite imposing edifices or a greater number of related 
forms. 
Similar remarks apply, in a still higher degree, to 
the subject of drawing, whose more general introduc- 
tion into the family, on account of the greater atten- 
tion it needs on the part of the educator, will be deferred 
to a still later period. Here, too, we may, therefore, 
safely transfer Chapter VI to this chapter, adding again 
that the social characteristics of the kindergarten will 
necessarily extend the scope of this important occupa- 
tion, and make it one of its least dispensable auxiliaries. 
Indeed, even if no special effort were made on the part 
of the kindergartener to bring out the social side of the 
kindergarten in these occupations, the energizing influ- 
ence which working together with others at the same 
things has upon each individual child concerned, would 
be sufficient to demand them. 
Froebel and his followers have, however, offered still 
other means of occupation for their great educational 
contrivance. The most important of these are the weav- 
ing with paper strips, the folding of paper, and the mod- 
eling of plastic clay. 
In the first of these, the weaving, the child is fur- 
nished with a sheet of colored paper cut lengthwise into 
a number of narrow strips; the margin on each side is 
left uncut, so that the whole forms a complete wrarp, as 
it were. For the woof, the child receives a number of 
separate strips of card-board of the same width as the 
strips of the'warp, and of suitable length. These are WEAVING AND FOLDING. 
99 
then inserted in the warp, alternately raising and 
depressing successive strips of the latter. The warp 
should, in the beginning, not exceed four by five inches 
in size, cut into twelve or fourteen strips, exclusive of 
the margins, one-fourth of an inch wide. The strips of 
the woof should be cut from card-board, to give it the 
necessary stiffness for convenient handling. Subse- 
quently the warp-sheets may be increased in size, with 
a corresponding increase in the number of strips of 
which it is composed. Quite advanced children may 
again receive smaller sheets, cut into narrower strips, 
about one-sixteenth of an inch wide. In this case, the 
strips of the woof are cut from paper and are woven into 
the warp with the aid of a blunt wooden needle four 
inches long, and furnished with a flaring end which is 
slightly split so that two strips of the woof can be con- 
veniently inserted in the slit. 
Figures 3-8, Plate XI, indicate a few of the uses to 
which this valuable occupation can be put. In these 
figures, the dark portions represent the warp; the light 
portions, the woof. The strips of the latter are of a 
different color from that of the warp, and may differ 
among themselves in this respect; so that, as far as 
color is concerned, each pattern admits a great num- 
ber of variations. Again, figures 3, 4, and 5 show how 
ideas of numbers can be developed and fixed by means 
of this occupation; and figures 6, 7, and 8 indicate new 
and beautiful applications of ideas of form. To these 
things must be added the unlimited scope that weaving- 
offers to the child’s inventiveness, as well as the manual 
skill which it derives from this exercise. 
For folding, the child receives a piece of tinted paper 100 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
(white paper is too easily soiled) four to eight inches 
square. These are variously folded, according to the 
laws of symmetry, and give rise to a great number of 
forms of beauty and life. Among other forms of life, 
Goldammer’s Manual mentions a bird, a salt-cellar, a 
table, a mirror, a box, a skiff. Undoubtedly the readers 
are familiar with several of these; and, working upon 
these as a basis, they will find it easy to arrive at new 
forms. To describe them here, would require more space 
than the limits of the sketch will permit. 
I can not, however, dismiss the occupations of weav- 
ing and folding without pointing out the great value of 
occasional exercises in dictation—directing a small 
group of children in terse language how many strips of 
the warp are to be successively raised or depressed, what 
portion of the folding-paper is to be turned backward, 
forward, right or left. Such exercises will enhance the 
power of the child to work consciously and directly to a 
fixed purpose; but I add again, that they should be occa- 
sional exercises, and must not be allowed to drown self- 
activity. 
‘ For the occupation of modeling, the child is provided 
with a piece of plastic clay, a wooden knife or spatula, 
a small board, and a piece of oiled paper on which it 
rolls, kneads, and fashions the plastic material. Of 
course, the first form it makes, is the ball, which is 
readily changed into a nut, an apple, a pear, a potato, 
etc.; then, several balls, which are grouped into bunches 
of cherries, grapes, etc. From the ball, it derives the 
cylinder and the cube, which furnish central points for 
a variety of forms of life, beauty, and cognition; and it 
will not be long before it succeeds in fashioning quite MODELING, ETC. 
101 
complicated forms of life. Sometimes several children 
will unite their efforts and make groups of related 
objects—baskets of fruit, the furniture of a room, a little 
village, etc. 
It may have occurred to the reader, before this, that 
the three occupations sketched in this chapter might 
find a place in the family as well as in the kinder- 
garten. lam ready to admit that the child will be 
greatly benefited by playing with these things at home, 
more particularly if the mother is gifted with the 
requisite knowledge, patience, and just appreciation of 
the powers of her child, and if she has the necessary 
time at her disposal. But even under the most favor- 
able circumstances, the home can not offer to the child 
the many suggestive examples, the energizing influence 
of imitating and of being imitated, the healthy emula- 
tion that breeds excellence, and, as far as modeling is 
concerned, the wholesome discipline of united effort—in 
all of which the kindergarten abounds. 
These means of occupation do not by any means 
exhaust the list provided by Froebel and his followers. 
The remaining ones may, however, be omitted here 
without fear of impairing the completeness of the sketch, 
since they are not the carriers of new ideas or princi- 
ples, and require more technical skill than the average 
kindergarten is able to produce. On the other hand, 
the live kindergartener will find it easy to invent 
supplementary means of occupation, or to substitute 
others for the ones proposed here, if circumstances 
require this effort on her part or offer the occasion. CHAPTER X. 
OBJECT-LESSONS, STORIES, SONGS, DECLAMATIONS. 
The kindergarten is not and should not he a school. 
For this reason, I have heretofore carefully avoided all 
terms that might lead the unwary to look upon it in 
this light. It is true, that many who failed to enter 
into its spirit or who greeted it as p, new opportunity to 
make a living, have made their so-called kindergartens 
a sort of schools where precocity is encouraged at the 
expense of sound development. Such “schools” may 
flourish; for the unreasonable parent is gratified and the 
outsider dazzled by the wonderful attainments of the 
unconscious little sufferers; hut they do an incalculable 
amount of harm, both directly and indirectly. If, there- 
fore, I speak of object-lessons in connection with the 
kindergarten, I mean something much less extensive 
than the object-lessons for the school sketched in Shel- 
don’s, Calkins’s, and Hailman’s works on that subject. 
It is true, so far as the child gains ideas from its 
play—or work, if you choose—in the kindergarten, these 
are gained according to the principles of object-teaching, 
as a glance at its foundation and at its principles will OBJECT-LESSONS, STORIES, SONGS, ETC. 
103 
show. Object-teaching is founded on the fact that the 
knowledge of the most trifling empirical fact, as well as 
of the greatest abstract truth, can reach our mind only 
through the senses, either directly or indirectly, with 
the assistance of memory and imagination, on the fact 
that ive learn by observation. Whether the mind is per- 
ceptively active in the observation of external facts— 
objects and phenomena—or reflectively active in the 
observation of previously formed ideas—internal facts— 
the processes are subjectively the same; and, objectively, 
the latter is based on the former. The principles of 
object-teaching may be summed up under the following 
three heads: 1. Cultivate the faculties in their natural 
order—perception, conception, judgment. 2. Proceed 
from the known to the unknown—from the simple to 
the complex—from the concrete to the abstract—from 
the whole to the parts (with reference to objects and 
phenomena)—from the particular to the general (with 
reference to ideas). 3. Accustom the child to activity. 
In short, object-teaching is a name given to the mental 
side of the method of the “new education/'’ Hence, its 
principles must hold good in kindergarten culture, 
wheresoever this culture aims at mental development; 
and all the various forms of beauty, and more particu- 
larly of life and cognition, furnish material for conversa- 
tions and exercises which, in the school, go by the name 
of object-lessons. 
In addition, the kindergartener may sometimes engage 
in conversations about familiar objects without, how- 
ever, going beyond what is indicated as the “first 
period” in Hailman’s Object-Teaching. Her aim should 
be more to arouse attention and to cultivate habits of 104 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
accurate observation and clear expression, than to con- 
vey exhaustive information about the objects in ques- 
tion; her work should be more following than pushing, 
more drawing out than pouring in. She should not 
withhold information, more particularly when the little 
ones ask for it; but she should always remember that, 
however desirable, such information is secondary com- 
pared with the mental development, for which the 
object-lessons are to furnish the material. I shall here 
insist only on the following technical points as essential 
conditions of success: Accustom the children to answer 
in full, clear sentences; avoid “yes” and “no” as the 
mariner avoids shoals; do not allow the children to 
answer in wild confusion; and do not allow answers in 
concert until the correct answer has been brought out in 
clear, concise terms. For further details, we must refer 
the reader to the works on object-teaching mentioned 
above. Simple stories, pleasantly told, either in con- 
nection with some play or independently, offer perhaps 
the most potent, certainly the most attractive means 
for the inculcation of certain moral ideas, as well as 
for the cultivation of imagination and of language. 
Five or six stories from the collections of Grimm 
Andersen, and others, a few fables, and, now and then, 
something fresh from “The Nursery,” are all that is 
needed. The little children will listen again and again, 
with renewed interest, to “Little Red Riding Flood,” 
“Cinderella,” etc., discovering, each time, new beau- 
ties in the narrative, entering deeper and deeper into 
its spirit, and learning additional lessons of sympathy 
and love from it. 
In addition to the ditties accompanying certain OBJECT-LESSONS, STORIES, SONGS, ETC. 
105 
games, as indicated in preceding chapters, the children 
will be delighted to learn little songs like “Twinkle, 
twinkle, little star,” “Little drops of water,” “The 
north wind does blow',” and a number of similar ones. I 
certainly need not insist that words, rhythm, and 
melody of these songs will influence mind, heart, and 
voice of the children beneficially, if the proper spirit 
pervades the kindergarten. The kindergartener should 
be careful, in the selection of songs, that the wmrds, 
while not too puerile, as in “Little Bopeep,” are not 
beyond the child’s comprehension, as in “Rain upon the 
Roof;” that the melodies go neither too high nor too low 
in their pitch, but move within reach of average voices; 
and that the rhythm does not exceed the children’s 
skill in enunciation. In some kindergartens methodical 
exercises in scale-singing have been introduced; in most 
cases, howrever, it is best to reserve these for the con- 
necting-class. If they are undertaken at all, let them 
be used sparingly and cautiously, for fear of running 
into the pedantry and mechanism of those pseudo-kin- 
dergarteners or manufacturers of big little folks, who, 
dazzling the unwary with brilliant “results,” are the 
greatest bane of true education. 
Similar remarks apply to declamations which are 
frequently used to cover a multitude of sins. Nothing 
is more painful than to hear one or more of the little 
innocents repeating with affected pathos pieces of 
which they do not or can not appreciate the meaning, 
growing great in that shallow superficiality that breeds 
self-conceit and, consequently, impairs future usefulness 
and mars future happiness. I would not, by any means, 
discourage exercises in the declamation of simple poems 106 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
or even of short dialogues, for I fully appreciate their 
value as a means of culture; but I would warn against 
laying too much stress upon them, against the selection 
of pieces that transcend the powers of the child, and 
against mere mechanical memorizing and parrot-like 
recitation. 
In this connection, we must condemn, as pernicious, 
the practice of learning foreign languages in the kinder- 
garten. Even leaving out of consideration the confusing 
and scattering influence which this practice must exert, 
we should avoid it as a waste of time and energy. The 
ideas once clearly gained and clearly expressed in the 
mother-tongue, it requires much less expenditure of 
time and energy, on the part of both teacher and pupil, 
to acquire an important new idiom in the school where, 
indeed, its acquisition can not be commenced too early. 
In this respect, many localities in the United States 
labor under a peculiar predicament. They possess a 
numerous German-American population, who justly 
claim that their children should know the German lan- 
guage as the only medium of communication that can 
secure that freedom and intimacy, in the intercourse 
between parent and child, which is so essential to edu- 
cation. In such cases, it seems expedient to establish 
kindergartens in which the German language is used 
exclusively, in addition to those in which the English 
language is the medium of communication. It is 
claimed, however, by many earnest German-American 
kindergarteners that, in such communities, German 
can not be classed as a foreign language, at least so far 
as German-American children are concerned, since these 
are daily called upon to listen to both languages and OBJECT-LESSONS, STORIES, SONGS, ETC. 
107 
to express themselves in both, so that the German- 
American kindergarten may, not only without injury, 
but even with profit, use the two languages as means 
of instruction. My experience on this subject is not 
sufficient to enable me to come to a positive conclusion; 
yet, since in the few instances of two-language kinder- 
gartens of whose work I have had an opportunity to 
judge, the children failed to express themselves as 
clearly in either language as was the case in the one- 
language kindergartens; and since the kindergarten is 
much more closely related to the family than it is to 
the school, I am inclined to give the preference to the 
practice of using in the kindergarten the language of 
the home, the mother’s tongue exclusively, leaving the 
other language to the connecting-class and to the school. CHAPTER XL 
THE CONNECTING-CLASS. 
It Las been shown, in previous chapters, that all 
sudden transitions, all abrupt breaks in the scheme of 
education of a child are injurious, and that successive 
phases should be organically connected. To bring about 
this organic connection between the kindergarten and 
the school, is the aim of the connecting-class, which 
the child rarely reaches before its seventh year, and in 
which it remains for a period of two years. 
Heretofore, the child has had nothing to do with the 
so-called school-studies. It has acquired habits of atten- 
tion, concentration, perseverance, and obedience to duty; 
it has learned to use its senses in the work of observa- 
tion; its memory and imagination have attained con- 
siderable scope and power; it has acquired a love and 
appreciation of the beautiful; it has learned to use its 
hands and voice in giving expression to its ideas and 
fancies; its mind is fully aroused, its body vigorous 
and active; it has learned to love its play, and is ready 
to love its work. Again, while it has acquired much 
skill and knowledge, no direct effort has been made as THE CONNECTING-CLASS. 
109 
yet to systematize these; it is still a stranger to reading, 
writing, arithmetic, geometry, geography, history, etc., 
as distinct branches of skill and knowledge; and the 
period is approaching when these are to occupy the 
greater portion of its time, so that it may be fitted to 
struggle with success for existence, both individually 
and socially. 
This transition from play to conscious work (i. e., 
from occupation in which enjoyment is the main object, 
to occupation in which the accomplishment of a certain 
task is the principal aim), and to the systematizing of 
knowledge and skill, is the work of the connecting-class. 
For this purpose, the occupations of the kindergarten 
are continued; but more stress is laid upon the forms 
of cognition, and gradually the various facts that have a 
direct bearing upon the future subjects of study are col- 
lected and classified. Thus the ideas of number, gained 
from building-blocks, tablets, sticks, etc., are compared, 
and the similar ones united and expressed in a more 
abstract form. At the same time, the child is taught to 
write the figures on its slate, and to represent its abstrac- 
tions by means of these and the customary signs for the 
operations. Thus the abstractions, one and one are two, 
two and one are three, etc,, are written on the slate, 
14-I=2, 2+l—3, etc., and so on through all the opera- 
tions. 
In these exercises, however, care must be taken not 
to push the children beyond their power of easy compre- 
hension, for fear of disgusting them with their work by 
continual failures, thus losing the principal aim of the 
exercises. The numbers should be practiced in concen- 
tric circles, gradually expanding in compass. The first KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
of these circles should not extend beyond ten, and within 
the limits of this number all the arithmetical operations 
should be thoroughly taught and practiced. The next 
circle may extend to twenty, and the third to one hun- 
dred, which will probably suffice for the connecting- 
class. 
Similarly, the scattered knowledge in geometry and 
natural history is collected and systematized within the 
narrow limits of first concentric circles. In the former, 
it will be sufficient if clear definitions of line, surface, 
solid, straight, curved, wavy, spiral, parallel, diverging, 
angle, right, oblique, obtuse, acute, triangle, quadri- 
lateral, parallelogram, square, diagonal, circle, center, 
circumference, diameter, hexagon, octagon, cube, sphere, 
prism, cylinder, pyramid, cone, are developed. 
In natural history, the children learn to distinguish 
clearly the parts of animals and plants, and obtain defi- 
nitions of the broader terms, such as mammal, bird, 
domestic animal, beast and bird of prey, carnivorous, 
herbivorous, omnivorous, terrestrial, aquatic; tree, shrub, 
herb, cereal, weed, annual, biennial, perennial, etc. The 
development of these definitions presupposes, of course, 
frequent direct observation and examination of certain 
plants and animals on the part of the children, the ana- 
lytical inspection of typical plants and animals, and of 
the pictures of such as can not well be examined 
directly, as well as simple descriptions and lively narra- 
tives on the part of the teacher. 
Preparatory exercises in history and geography may 
be introduced. The former in the shape of character- 
istic anecdotes, short biographies, descriptions of con- 
trivances and institutions that play an important part THE CONNECTING-CLASS. 
in the social and political life of mankind—the latter in 
the shape of home-geography; i. e., in direct inspections 
of the surface of the earth in the vicinity, accounts of 
short trips to neighboring places, definitions of terms of 
relative position and of a few leading astronomical rela- 
tions that are needed in this important study. 
Among the skills (or arts), reading and writing justly 
claim the greatest attention, since, by overcoming space 
and time, they extend the scope of man’s usefulness and 
happiness to an unlimited degree. They bring to our 
immediate presence the thoughts and feelings of men 
that lived in the beginning of time, and perpetuate our 
own thoughts and feelings to the end of time. By their 
aid we can give an independent existence to our . ideas 
and cause them to spread all over the earth, to arouse or 
appease, to instruct, or persuade, or delight even the 
race. This is not the place to discuss the much-mooted 
questions concerning the particular methods of teach- 
ing the arts of reading and writing, and I must content 
myself with the mere statement that, whatever method 
the teacher follows, the connecting-class is the proper 
place to begin with these important branches. To begin 
sooner would be injudicious, because the child’s mind is 
not yet sufficiently developed and stored to appreciate 
what it reads, or to express with sufficient accuracy and 
clearness what it wishes to write; to delay beyond this 
period would entail a loss of time that must prove 
injurious. 
Here, too, instruction in an important living foreign 
language may be prepared. The children may be 
taught to name familiar objects in the foreign tongue, 
to speak simple sentences, even to carry on, though 112 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
within quite narrow limits, conversations with the 
teacher in carefully-prepared object-lessons. As far as 
German in our own country is concerned, it may—with- 
out reference to the question whether German is to be 
looked upon as a foreign language or not—be safely 
asserted that its study ought to begin in this class, 
partly on account of the intimate relationship existing 
between it and the English language; partly on account 
of the wealth, beauty, and importance of its literature; 
and partly on account of the great number of citizens 
Avho, from choice or necessity, speak it in preference to 
the English. 
For drawing, the child may receive a plain slate, 
devoid of the net-work described in Chapter VI. On 
this slate it may he taught to draw its own net-works 
according to Domschke’s Method,* or the teacher may 
follow his or her own method, taking care always to 
proceed systematically, to ask nothing that exceeds the 
child’s powers, to progress slowly and continuously— 
from the simple to the complex, and to give free scope 
to the imitative and inventive skill of the pupil. 
Drawing on paper may be commenced, too, in this class; 
at first, perhaps, according to Froebel’s Method, on sheets 
of paper ruled like the kindergarten slate, and, subse- 
quently, according to Kriisi’s or some similar method. 
Whatever method the teacher follows, let her beware of 
confining herself to mere copying of drawings placed 
before the child. Of course, it is proper that the chil- 
dren should frequently copy good models; but this must 
* Wegweiser fuer den praktischen unterricht im freihand- 
zeichnen. Von C. Domschke. Berlin: N. Landau. 1869. THE CONNECTING-CLASS. 
113 
not be done to the exclusion of copying from nature and 
of inventive drawing; and, when it is done, care should 
be taken to avoid, among other things, the abominable 
habit of measuring with slips of paper or other imple- 
ments, since this defeats one of the main aims of the 
exercise—the practice of the eye in the art of judging 
distance and form. On the other hand, it is proper and 
profitable to cause them to make copies on a reduced 
or extended scale. 
Systematic exercises in singing, too, are in order 
here. Conscious practice in breathing, in scale-singing, 
in intervals, in pauses, in rhythm, in the reading and 
even in the writing of notes, etc., will delight the child 
in the proportion in which they increase its skill and 
knowledge within the limits of its powers. Of course, 
the old songs should be kept up, and new and aj3pro- 
priate ones learned. 
By following the course sketched here, with strict 
attention to the laws of organic development in gen- 
eral, and to the individuality of the child in particular, 
there can be no doubt that the teacher who under- 
stands and loves her work will succeed, by the time the 
child has reached its ninth year, in transforming it from 
an earnest player to an earnest worker, who will do the 
work of the school vigorously and cheerfully, and who 
can be fitted for a useful and happy life. 
K. 10. CHAPTER XII. 
ADAPTATION OF KINDERGARTEN CULTURE TO AMERICAN 
INSTITUTIONS—MODE OF INTRODUCTION. 
In the previous chapters I have attempted to give a 
full and concise sketch of kindergarten culture up to 
the time when the child is fully given over to the 
school. It still remains for me to answer the questions: 
Does kindergarten culture suit our institutions? and, if 
so, how may it be introduced successfully? 
In an article written in 1836, Froebel, the great 
originator of kindergarten culture, discussing emigra- 
tion as one of the modes to attain his purposes, says: 
“We must emigrate to the country that offers all the 
conditions for the existence of genuine human-family 
life which renders the development of pure humanity 
possible, where such a life is at least sought and can 
freely develop All these conditions and 
hopes we find in America, and, for Germans, more espe- 
cially in North America, and here again in the 
UNITED STATES.” 
The Baroness Marenholtz-Biilow, too, the most self- 
sacrificing and most successful of Froebel’s followers, 
expresses similar views in a letter lately written to John 115 
MODE OF INTRODUCTION. 
Kraus, of Washington. She writes: “Upon America, 
where in truth a new world is forming, which possesses 
all the creative powers of a young state, where the indi- 
vidual enjoys full liberty, and no restraint prevents him 
from carrying out his own designs in his own way, we 
look as the field for our richest harvest.” 
Certainly, the conditions for the development of a 
sound, natural, rational scheme of education, similar to 
the one called for by the greatest thinkers and philan- 
thropists of the age, and planned by Pestalozzi, Froebel, 
Diesterweg, and their followers, will be found in the 
greatest abundance and in the highest degree of perfec- 
tion in a community in which the human being, as 
such, occupies the highest rank; in which it is only 
necessary to be a human being, in order to be a citizen— 
the equal before the law of all other members of the 
community; in which there is no excellence but that of 
superior efficiency for usefulness; in which no prejudices 
in favor of birth, occupation, sect, or sex exist; in which 
each individual derives its value from the character and 
extent of its individuality; in a community, again, in 
which family-life is based on similar considerations, 
acknowledging no authority but that derived from 
greater knowledge, better purposes, higher efficiency. 
Again, there can be no doubt that the United States 
of America, while they still fall short of this ideal, are 
nearer to it and approach it more steadily and more 
rapidly than any other country. In politics, every man, 
with restrictions that apply equally to all, is a free and 
equal member of society; in religion, the conscience of 
every one is left free and untrammeled; socially, he 
occupies the highest rank whose individuality has 116 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
reached the highest point of successful development; in 
the family, the equality of man and woman as human 
beings is so fully recognized that the day can not be far 
distant when women will, in all relations of life, enjoy 
the rights and jirivileges which prejudices, based upon 
the servile or brutish instincts of past ages, still deny 
them. Froebel asks that early education he placed in 
the hands of woman, whose peculiarities and instincts 
fit her more for this than is the case with man; and in 
this respect, too, our country is far ahead of others. 
Here, more than elsewhere, family education is intrusted 
to woman; here, more than elsewhere, the adaptation of 
females to the calling of teacher, particularly in element- 
ary education, is recognized. This may be due to condi- 
tions entitled to little respect, instead of being the 
result of an honest conviction of her superiority; but it 
is the case, and it is the business of American educators 
to supply that conviction. It may be a lucky chance; 
but wisdom should impel us to make the best of lucky 
chances. 
I hope that I shall not be seriously accused of paint- 
ing in too bright colors; for I am aware of the many 
faults and abuses by which our people disgrace their 
institutions—faults and abuses which, perhaps, are 
more hideous with us than elsewhere, because, from the 
very freedom of our institutions, from the very scope 
given to individual development among us, they have a 
better opportunity for growth. But, for the same rea- 
son, these abnormities are of less moment with us, are to 
be less feared, have their remedy supplied in the very 
circumstance that favors their growth, provided the edu- 
cators, to whom so much of the welfare ot future gene- MODE OF INTRODUCTION. 
117 
rations is intrusted, do their duty consciously and 
vigorously. 
Froebel, in his efforts, was compelled to struggle 
against authorities that feared loss of power from his 
success, against aristocracies that were jealous of the 
advancement of the masses, against the petrified, self- 
sufficient pedantry of the great majority of teachers, 
against the indifference and sluggishness of the masses 
themselves. Not so among us. Our government has 
no despotic privilege to defend; we have no aristocracy 
to feel jealous of an inferior class. Our people are wide 
awake, and take a deep interest in educational matters; 
our teachers seem eager for reform and progress. There 
is nothing to keep us from making the great stride, 
from giving to future generations the power and the 
means to kindle into a brilliant flame the sparks of free- 
dom and humanity, by which the United States have 
already contributed so much to the enfranchisement and 
emancipation of mankind. 
Yet caution is necessary in the introduction of kin- 
dergarten culture. The general and local needs of the 
people are to be determined; the several obstacles must 
be clearly defined; the scheme itself, for whose intro- 
duction I plead, must be carefully studied and adapted 
to those wants; for it contains much that is useless for 
us, and lacks many things that we must have. And 
to all this, the work of one individual, or of several indi- 
viduals working separately, is inadequate. I have, it is 
true, in the previous chapters, attempted an adaptation 
of kindergarten culture to our wants and peculiarities, 
as they appear to me; but I have, no doubt, erred in 
many an instance. To correct these errors, and to cor- 118 
KINDERGARTEN CULTURE. 
rect or prevent similar ones on the part of others, it is 
necessary that those who are competent and willing to 
undertake the labor should work together, each one fur- 
nishing encouragement, information, and experience to 
the others, and deriving the same in return from them. 
The conviction that such a course is desirable, to 
insure prompt and permanent success, has been forced 
upon me by the difficulties that I encountered on all 
sides in my individual studies and experiments on the 
subject in question; it has been forced upon me by the 
experience made with so-called object-teaching, which, 
in spite of the earnest endeavors of so many competent 
men and women working separately, has failed in so 
many places, and, in others, has subsided into the very 
mechanism which it was intended to drive from our 
schools; it has been forced upon me by the limited 
experience of so-called kindergartens in our country, 
which, according to statements that I owe to Mr. John 
Kraus, Mrs. Ploedterll, and others, in many cases do 
more harm than good, in consequence of time-serving 
selfishness and incompetence on the part of their 
directors. 
Let clear-headed, true-souled men or women, each in 
his or her sphere, inspire others with their enthusiasm, 
and form clubs, societies, associations, formal or informal; 
let them select from among their number or engage from 
abroad, as kindergarteners, persons who have the requi- 
site knowledge and skill, or the requisite intelligence 
and energy to get these, and, above all things, the requi- 
site child-like spirit and sympathy with childhood, and 
go to work. Let these organizations correspond freely 
with one another, and let them arrange, at stated MODE OF INTRODUCTION. 
119 
periods, county, state, and even national conventions, for 
the purpose of comparing experiences and devising 
reforms; and the time will not be far distant when, not 
only kindergarten culture, but education in general, will 
have reached a degree of perfection immeasurably nearer 
to the goal indicated in the first chapter than our pres- 
ent mongrel systems can ever reach—a degree of perfec- 
tion that will enhance the capacity for happiness and 
the efficiency for usefulness in the nearest future genera- 
tions beyond the hopes of the most sanguine philanthro- 
pists, and which will spread light and truth, freedom 
and humanity, even beyond the limits of our com- 
munity. 
I do not wish to imply that this is the only way in 
which kindergarten culture can be introduced, for, inas- 
much as it partakes of the character of truth, it will 
“rise again,” however often it may be “crushed to earth” 
by the opposition of its enemies, or by the imprudence 
or incompetence of its real or pretended friends; but I 
believe that a course similar to the one I have suggested 
will hasten enduring success. Plate / JPlateJL Plate 111. Platen: Platel\: Plate V. Plate VI. Plate ML Plate MIL Plate IX. Plate Plate XI Plate J37