When a sign is given to me, it can teach me nothing if it finds me ignorant of the thing of which it is the sign—but if I’m not ignorant, what do I learn through the sign?
Peter King paraphrases:
I cannot know that a sign is a sign unless I know what it signifies—but then I learn nothing from the sign; my knowledge of its significate is presupposed in its being a sign in the first place. More exactly, I can only know that something is a sign if I know that it signifies, but I only know it as a sign—it can “teach me”—if I know what it signifies. Hence teaching by means of signs is impossible.
Most of all I’m trying to persuade you, if I’ll be able to, that we don’t learn anything by these signs called words. As I have stated, we learn the meaning of a word—that is, we learn the signification hidden in the sound—once the thing signified is itself known, rather than our perceiving it by means of such signification.
Take stock. In The Teacher Augustine has given us an extended argument that teaching is impossible. Since knowing something is an inner episode of awareness—specifically, comprehension of what has been proposed and then an internal test to see whether it is true—knowledge just isn’t the sort of thing that can be transferred between persons. Of course, Augustine does not argue this way; to do so would be to beg the question against Wittgenstein. Nor need we accept (or even explore!) Augustine’s theory of illumination to take the important point from his discussion, namely that learning (and so teaching) pose a deep and puzzling philosophical problem—one that the contemporary tradition does not often recognize.
Since knowledge is a matter of an individual grasp dof reasons why something should be so, and such reasons have to explain the content of what is known, it follows that knowledge is not per se transmitted from a teacher to a student. Rather, a teacher proposes reasons to a student, who either sees how they work (and thereby accepts them), takes them by authority, or neither. In the first case there is knowledge; in the second belief; in the third ignorance. But for our purposes the important point is that in the first case, the student’s acceptance of the reasons is a process internal to the student—and, in the end, mysterious: the teacher may provide the occasion for learning but cannot do more. And this is enough to argue that the problem of learning is a deep and perplexing philosophical puzzle. For if the teacher doesn’t cause the student to understand—and it’s clear that the teacher cannot literally cause the student to understand, since otherwise everyone in the classroom would get it, or nobody would—then what is it that takes place? What is learning, if not a mysterious inner episode of awareness?
And I think this is the moral of the story, that if one really wants to teach something, one has to make sure that the student can see how the idea "works" or "makes sense"—and that when this is not the case, there is not only "less learning" going on, but that the reverse is actually the case: one is teaching ignorance! This means that teaching has to happen within a meaningful context. And that, to me, is the question what bugs me: what is a meaningful context? Do ideas become meaningful when a teacher is passioned about his subject and not simply is "teaching the programme"? Do the students have to be interested and "see" how they can use that what the teacher is talking about? Does all knowledge have to be immediately useful? What about ideas that are "show" their meaning only after a long time of study? I'm playing the devil's advocate of course, but these questions actually have been on my mind for a while now—I've been challenged by a friend who is following a teacher-training programme :-)
I'm interested in people's thoughts on these questions.
@ Louis Lieb: I'm sorry if I changed the subject. I may had better started a new thread...
Greetings,
Tuur
P.S. Sorry for the sloppyness. Didn't have much time.
Also interesting is the 13th century comment on Augustine's De Magistro by Thomas Aquinas. This is what Aquinas has to say:
To the eleventh we should say that the student's ideas are the primary foundation on which is built all the knowledge gained through teaching. The student's own lights are the immediate builder, while the teacher's are the middle builder. For the teacher presents signs of the knowable things, from which the student's mind takes ideas in order to consider them. Thus the teacher's words or writings end up being like the subject of study, since the student takes ideas from both. The difference is that the teacher's words are a more direct way of generating knowledge than the experience of the subject since they are signs of the ideas themselves.
here is the complete translation, with the original Latin besides: http://www4.desales.edu/~philtheo/loughlin/ATP/De_Magistro/De_Magistro_11_1.html
Thomas Aquinas: De Magistro
http://www4.desales.edu/~philtheo/loughlin/ATP/De_Magistro/De_Magistro_11_1.html
*This goes against the grain of the positivistic ideas of many famous educators. One of the first in this tradition (and he may have inspired many others) is John Amos Comenius (now revered as one of the founders of modern pedagogy). This is what he writes in his famous "Great Didactic":
The art of printing involves certain materials and processes. The materials consist of the paper, the type, the ink, and the press. The processes consist of the preparation of the paper, the setting up and inking of the type, the correction of the proof, and the impression and drying of the copies. All this must be carried out in accordance with certain definite rules, the observance of which ensure a successful result.
In didachography the same elements are present. Instead of paper, we have pupils whose minds have to be impressed with the symbols of knowledge. Instead of type, we have the class-books and the rest of the apparatus devised to facilitate the operation of teaching. The ink is replaced by the voice of the master, since this it is that conveys information from the books to the mind of the listener; while the press is school-discipline, which keeps the pupils up to their work and compels them to learn. (Comenius, 1910, p.289)
When we talk about teachers, I think we tend to think more of a classroom teacher rather than, say, a piano teacher. A piano teacher helps someone willing to practice by showing them how to do things and correcting errors – for about a half hour a week. THEN the student goes off and (if they really want to learn) practices for many times the half hour. So an intense interaction of teacher and student is followed by a period of time for the student to work out what it is she is learning.
Colleges and universities, as well as trade schools, generally follow this pattern – a relatively small amount of time with the teacher, and a relatively large amount of time to work things through – to study or practice. This approach demonstrably works in many cases – people do learn how to play the piano or become brain surgeons or auto mechanics this way.
In a typical classroom, the pattern is inside out in several ways – there’s hours and hours of instruction (or at least attendance) followed by a fraction of that amount of time for the student to work on what they’re trying to learn. The student, in a wonderfully self-fulfilling way, is assumed not to be trustworthy enough to learn on her own, or at least not much – they must spend the bulk of their learning time with a teacher present. Parents are expected to stand in loco teacher over homework.
Teachers are invaluable for many important kinds of learning. They are superfluous for many other important kinds of learning. Most of the time when teachers are needed, for technically complex types of learning, the piano teacher model is probably much better, both more effective and more respectful.
Joseph
>
> Right on. Not sure if you have read Ron Miller's What are schools
> for?:Holistic education in American culture. Great great book.
>
> here a quote from one of the pioneers of holistic teaching.
>
> Joeseph Neef says of his role of teacher "friend, and guide, their
> school fellow, play fellow and messmate"
Friendship is mutual and voluntary. People are friends when they
decide they want to be, and in a healthy friendship people connect as
equals. A relationship in which one person tries to be a holistic life
guide for the other is not friendship, however gentle and respectful
they try to be.
What happens in Joseph Neef's scheme of things if the student doesn't
want that teacher as a friend, and doesn't find that teacher's
guidance relevant?
~Woty
"A paedagogus is assigned to the young so that the rowdiness of youth might be restrained and their hearts prone to sin be held in check ... by the fear of punishment. (Jerome, Commentary on Paul's Letter to the Galatians 2.3.24)