<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br/> <span class="medium">THE INDIAN AND EDUCATION</span></h2>
<p class="drop"><span class="upper">Take</span> it all in all, I think I believe more in the Indian’s
system of education than our own,—I mean,
in the principles involved. Our education is largely an
education of books. We teach from books, we study
from books, we get our ideas from books. Joaquin
Miller’s reply to Elbert Hubbard, before quoted, seems
to many people to be a foolish remark. But I see a
profound thought in it. It was the poet’s protest
against the too great use of books. He regards books
as subversive of individual thought. He contends that
books retard and prevent thought, and that we read,
not to stimulate thought, but to deaden it. And undoubtedly
too much reading and dependence upon
books does deaden and destroy not only thought, but,
alas! far worse still, the power to indulge in individual
thought. Hence books are often a hindrance and a
curse instead of a help and a blessing.</p>
<p>The Indian has no books. While he has tradition
and legend, myth and story, he has no written word.
Everything that is, as differentiated from everything
that is supposed, in his life has to be personally learned
by individual contact with the things themselves.
Botany is the study of flowers, not of words about
flowers. There is but one way we can really study
botany, and that is out in the fields with the flower
growing before us. It must be seen day in and day
out from its planting until its fruition. All its development
must be known and understood. The properties
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span>
of its fruit, its roots, its stem, its leaves, for food, medicinal,
manufacturing, or other purposes are all connected
with the study. It is well to know the names
of the plants, the names of all parts of plants, and the
families and species to which they belong, but these
latter things, important and interesting though they
be, are but secondary or tertiary as compared with
the primary out-door personal and intimate knowledge
I have referred to.</p>
<p>Those who think the Indian uneducated should
read Charles Eastman’s (<i>Ohiyesa</i>) book telling of his
boyhood days with his Sioux parents and grandparents.
Eastman is a full-blooded Sioux, and though later
educated at Dartmouth College, still shows by his
writings and words how much he reveres his wise
teachers of the open air and the woods.</p>
<p>The fact is, that in matters pertaining to personal
observation the Indian children are far ahead of our
own brightest and smartest children; they observe
the slightest deviations from the regular order. Who
does not know of the Indian’s power in trailing. I
know Navahos, Mohaves, Hopis, Havasupais, and
others who will follow the dimmest trail with unerring
certainty, and tell you the details of the actions of the
person or animal trailed. This is education of a wonderfully
useful kind; a kind that it would be well to
give more of to our own children. Indeed, I have
been saying, both privately and publicly, for many
years, and I here repeat it, that if my children were
trained to observe and reflect upon what they observed
I should not care if they never went to school until
they were grown up to young manhood and womanhood.</p>
<p>That keen, though unusual thinker, Ernest Crosby,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span>
in one of his books, presented the following, which
perfectly meets my ideas and suggests what I mean in
regard to the Indian:</p>
<h4>EDUCATION</h4>
<p class="hang">Here are two educated men.</p>
<p class="hang">The one has a smattering of Latin and Greek;</p>
<p class="hang">The other knows the speech and habits of horses and cattle, and
gives them their food in due season.</p>
<p class="hang">The one is acquainted with the roots of nouns and verbs;</p>
<p class="hang">The other can tell you how to plant and dig potatoes and carrots
and turnips.</p>
<p class="hang">The one drums by the hour on the piano, making it a terror to
the neighborhood;</p>
<p class="hang">The other is an expert at the reaper and binder, which fills the
world with good cheer.</p>
<p class="hang">The one knows or has forgotten the higher trigonometry and
the differential calculus;</p>
<p class="hang">The other can calculate the bushels of rye standing in his field
and the number of barrels to buy for the apples on the trees
in his orchard.</p>
<p class="hang">The one understands the chemical affinities of various poisonous
acids and alkalies;</p>
<p class="hang">The other can make a savory soup or a delectable pudding.</p>
<p class="hang">The one sketches a landscape indifferently;</p>
<p class="hang">The other can shingle his roof and build a shed for himself in
a workman-like manner.</p>
<p class="hang">The one has heard of Plato and Aristotle and Kant and Comte,
but knows precious little about them;</p>
<p class="hang">The other has never been troubled by such knowledge, but he will
learn the first and last word of philosophy, “to love,”
far quicker, I warrant you, than his college-bred neighbor.</p>
<p class="hang">For still it is true that God hath hidden these things from the
wise and prudent and revealed them unto babes.</p>
<p class="hang">Such are the two educations:</p>
<p class="hang">Which is the higher, and which the lower?<SPAN name="FNanchor_2_2" href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">2</SPAN></p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2_2" href="#FNanchor_2_2" class="label">2</SPAN>
From Plain Talk in Psalm and Parable, by Ernest Crosby.</p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG id="i_133" src="images/i_133.jpg" alt="" /> <p class="caption">A NAVAHO GRANDMOTHER WITH THE BABY SHE LOVES, AND WHOSE EDUCATION SHE WILL DIRECT.</p> </div>
<p>I would not have it thought that I am opposed to
all systematic and book education, even on our present
plan or under our present system. My protest is not
so wide and sweeping as that. The main propositions
upon which I base my opposition are:</p>
<p>1. That we do not pay sufficient attention to the
physical health of our students, making health of
secondary, tertiary, or quaternary importance, or
often not giving it a single thought; leaving it
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span>
absolutely to regulate itself, when it should be the
first, primary, determinate aim and object of all education.</p>
<p>This very day upon which I write I sat at a professor’s
table. He is a prominent educator in one of
the important cities of the West. We were eating
breakfast. He was complaining of indigestion. As
he ate I could see his tongue seamed and coated, and
his lips were rough and fevered as with stomach
trouble. He helped himself to mush,—four times as
much as a healthy man ought to have taken, and in
far less time than it has taken me to write this he had
“shoveled” it all in and “gobbled” it down. (The
words in quotation marks are used thoughtfully, and
they more truthfully describe what was the absolute
fact than any other words with which I am familiar.)</p>
<p>He drank two glasses of milk warm from the cow,
and ate French bread which had been heated in the
oven and then saturated with butter. The night
before he had opened a can of sardines,—as he said,
“to see what he could eat,” and after the mush he ate
a few of them. Then the maid brought in bacon and
fried eggs and coffee, and he “did justice” to them.
Yet he wondered why he was troubled with indigestion,
and his poor wife sent word down from her bedroom
that she regretted she could not see me again as she
was suffering severely with one of her “regular” sick
headaches. My own breakfast consisted of a small
quota of mush, some of the hot bread (there was no
other), and some cold milk. I felt well and happy
after my frugal meal, while he confessed not only to
feeling heavy and “logy,” but <i>unsatisfied</i> with what
he had eaten—a clear proof of an abnormal appetite
and a disordered digestive system.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG id="i_135" src="images/i_135.jpg" alt="" /> <p class="caption">AN AGED COAHUILLA BASKET WEAVER.</p> </div>
<p>Now, is it to be expected that with our teachers
themselves so ignorant of the first principles of healthy
dietetics our students should know any better? Our
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span>
whole system of eating is wrong. We eat anything
and everything our tastes—often perverted and depraved—demand,
and we never ask ourselves the
question as to whether the food is good, or our methods
of eating it wise and proper. In my chapter on the
Indian and diet I discuss this question more thoroughly,
but I refer to it in this connection as one of the
great defects of our educational system.</p>
<p>2. My second proposition is, that we keep our
students indoors all the time,—as a settled, established
custom,—with occasional short periods out of
doors, instead of reversing the matter and <i>keeping
them out of doors all the time</i>, with occasional short
periods indoors.</p>
<p>Why keep children or university students indoors?
While in the winter climate of the East outdoor life
is not as possible as it is in the balmy West, there
certainly can be much more time spent out of doors
than there now is. We pride ourselves upon our
scholastic progressiveness, yet they do these things far
better in Germany. The educational and medical
authorities of Berlin have organized a forest school
for the city children of the crowded districts of Berlin
and Charlottenburg. In a wide clearing 150 children
follow—out of doors—the usual procedure of
school, delightfully varied with nature study at first
hand. The hours of work are short, and fresh air and
exercise are given a supreme importance. The children
cook their own dinners at a camp-fire, and their
desks and seats and shelter-sheds were made from the
timber felled to form the clearing. At 1 o’clock they
are all required to take an hour’s nap, for which each
child is provided with a blanket and a reclining-chair.</p>
<p>This is a move in the right direction. Our schools
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span>
cost the nation millions of dollars each year. Surely
we have a right to demand that they give us health
for our children in exchange, instead of ruining it in so
many cases as they now do.</p>
<p>In Japan out-of-door schools are quite common,
especially when the cherry and plum trees are in
blossom.</p>
<p>In Los Angeles, California, a business college holds
many of its class sessions out of doors, and I trust the
time will come when this will be the rule in all schools,
instead of the exception.</p>
<p>I am perfectly well aware that there is danger that
these statements will be taken too literally. They
must be taken as broad and general statements. My
conception is that in our present condition we <i>live</i>
indoors and <i>go out of doors occasionally</i>. I would
have that proposition reversed. We should <i>live out
of doors and go indoors occasionally</i>.</p>
<p>The same common sense and rational mode of
reading my words must be applied to all that I say on
out-of-door education. Naturally, I am not such a
fool as to suppose that all educational or scientific or
any other work can be done out of doors. Though I
am not a college professor, and never shall be, though
I am not a scientific expert, and never can be, though
I am not many things that other men are, I know
enough—have observed and seen enough—to know
that delicate experiments of a variety of kinds need
the most rigid indoor seclusion for their successful
conducting. But this does not alter my general propositions,
viz., that the health of students is of more
importance than any and all education given in schools
or colleges; that outdoor life is more conducive to
the health of students than indoor life, and that,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span>
therefore, <i>where possible</i>, all education should be given
out of doors.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG id="i_138" src="images/i_138.jpg" alt="" /> <p class="caption">AN ALEUT BASKET MAKER. THESE WOMEN MAKE THE MOST DELICATE BASKETRY IN THE WORLD.</p> </div>
<p>3. As a result of this indoor scholastic life, we content
ourselves by teaching our children from books,—which
at best are but embalmed knowledge, canned
information, the dry bones of knowledge, words
about things,—instead of bringing them in contact
(as far as is possible and practicable) with the things
themselves. I believe in books; I believe in education;
I believe in schools, in colleges, in universities,
in teachers, professors, and doctors of learning; but I
do not believe in them as most of the white race seem
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span>
to do, viz., as good in themselves. They are good
only as they are instruments for good to the children
committed to their care. The proper education of
one child is worth more to the world than all the
schools, colleges, and universities that were ever built.
One Michael Angelo, one Savonarola, one Francis of
Assisi, one Luther, one Agassiz, one Audubon, is
worth more to the world than all the schools that ever
were or ever will be. And if, by our present imperfect
and unhealthful school methods, we kill off, in
childhood, one such great soul, we do the human race
irreparable injury. Let us relegate the school to its
right place, and that is secondary to its primary,—the
child. The school exists for the child, not the
child for the school. As it now is, we put the plastic
material of which our nation is to be formed into the
mould of our schools, and regardless of consequences,
indifferent to the personal equation in each child,
overlooking all individuality and personality, the
machine works on, stamping this soul and mind material
with one same stamp, moulding it in one same mould,
hardening it in the fire to one same pattern, so that
it comes forth just as bricks come forth from a furnace,
uniform, regular, alike, perhaps pretty to the
unseeing eye, but ruined, spoiled, damned, as far as
active, personal, individualistic life and work are concerned.
The only human bricks that ever amount
to anything when our educational mill has turned them
out are those made of refractory clay,—the incomplete
ones, the broken ones, the twisted ones, those
that would not or could not be moulded into the
established pattern.</p>
<p>This is why I am so opposed to our present methods.
Let us have fewer lessons from books, and more knowledge
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span>
gained by personal observation; less reading
and cramming, and more reflective thinking; fewer
pages of books read, and more results and deductions
gained from personal experiences with things high and
low, animate and inanimate, that catch the eye and
mind <i>out of doors</i>; and above all the total cessation of
all mental labor when the body is not at its best.
The crowding of sick and ailing children is more cruel
and brutal than Herod’s slaughter of the innocents,
and so utterly needless and useless that fools couldn’t
do worse. What is the use of education to a sick
person, and especially when the sickness is the result
of the educational process. God save us from any
more such education!</p>
<p>Doubtless I shall be told that my ideas are impracticable.
I know they are and ever will be to those
who value “the system” more than the child. Granted
that in cold and wet weather students can’t get out of
doors much. Then open all the doors and all the
windows and give up the time to marching, to physical
exercises, to deep breathing, to anything,—romping
even,—rather than to cramming and studying a set
number of pages, while the air breathed is impure,
unwholesome, actively poisonous. When our educational
methods thus interfere with the health of the
child, I am forever and unalterably opposed to them.
We had far rather have a nation of healthy and happy
children, growing up into healthy and happy manhood
and womanhood, even though devoid of much
book knowledge, than a bloodless, anæmic, unhappy
nation though filled with all the lore of the ages. Give
me, for me and mine, every time, physical and mental
health and happiness, even though we have never
parsed a single sentence, determined the family and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span>
Latin name of a single flower, or found out the solution
of one solitary problem of algebra.</p>
<p>4. My fourth proposition is, that as the result of
this indoor book-teaching our children are not taught
to think for themselves, but are expected and required
to accept the ideas of the authors,—often, indeed, they
must memorize the exact words of the books. This
is, in itself, enough to condemn the whole system.
We could better afford to have absolutely no schools,
no colleges, no books even, than a nation professedly
educated, yet the members of which have not learned
to do their own thinking.</p>
<p>5. As a conclusion, therefore, I am forced to recognize
that, in a much larger measure than we are ready
to admit, our educational system is superficial, is a
cramming process instead of a drawing-out—<i>educere</i>,
educational—process, and no education so-called
can be really effective, really helpful, that thus inverts
the natural requirements of the mind. And that,
when our system ignores the physical health of the
student, no matter what his age, it is a criminal, a
wicked, a wasteful system that had better speedily
be reformed or abolished.</p>
<p>All these ideas are practically the result of my
association with the Indian and watching his methods
of instruction. His life and that of his family out of
doors color all that he and they learn. I think it was
John Brisbane Walker who once wrote a story, when
he edited and owned the <i>Cosmopolitan</i>, about some
college men, thoroughly educated in the academic
sense, who were shipwrecked at sea. He showed the
helplessness and hopelessness of their case because
of their inability to take hold and do things. The
Indian can turn his hand to anything. When out
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span>
of doors few things can feaze him. He knows how
to build a fire in the rain, where to sleep in a storm,
how to track a runaway animal, how to trap fish,
flesh, or fowl, where to look for seeds, nuts, berries,
or roots, how to hobble a horse when he has no rope,—that
is, how to make a rope from cactus thongs, how
to picket a horse where there is no tree, bush, fence,
bowlder, nor <i>anything</i> to which to tie it. What college
man knows how to picket a horse to a hole in the
ground? Yet I have seen an Indian do it, and have
done it myself several times.<SPAN name="FNanchor_3_3" href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">3</SPAN> He knows how to find
water when there is none in sight and the <i>educated</i>
white man is perishing for want of it, and he knows a
thousand and one things that a white man never knows.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3_3" href="#FNanchor_3_3" class="label">3</SPAN>
See “Indians of the Painted Desert Region,” Little, Brown, & Company,
p. 15.</p>
</div>
<p>As I shall show in the chapter on the Indian and
art work, the Indian basket-weaver far surpasses the
white woman of college education in invention of art-form,
artistic design, variety of stitch or weave, color
harmonies, and digital dexterity, or ability to compel
the fingers and hands to obey the dictates of the brain.</p>
<p>Education is by no means a matter of book-learning.
It is a discipline of the eye, the hand, the muscles, the
nerves, the whole body, to obey the dictates of the
highest judgment, to the end that the best life, the
happiest, the healthiest, and the most useful, may be
attained, and if this definition be at all a true one I
am fully satisfied that if we injected into our methods
of civilized education a solution of three-fifths of
Indian methods we should give to our race an immeasurably
greater happiness, greater health, and greater
usefulness.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span></p>
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