Love and Empathy: Children full of Life

Lest We Lose It

Tan Wei Xiong, 26, attended English-medium schools. But with a strong Chinese home background, he grew up wanting to be a Chinese teacher. He went to Fudan University in Shanghai and on to a master’s programme in education at the University of Hong Kong on a teaching scholarship. He wants to see language learning made more engaging so that students do not regard it as another, boring, subject to be mugged.

My childhood ambition was to be a Chinese teacher. It is hard to pinpoint what planted that “calling” in my heart, but a large factor has got to be my traditional Chinese upbringing. As a young boy, I spoke Teochew with my grandparents and Mandarin with my parents. My grasp of the dialect gradually deteriorated with my grandparents’ passing, but I continued using Mandarin as my primary language at home. Culturally, Confucian values were impressed upon me through examples set by my elders. Religious practices of Taoism and Buddhism also formed part of the cultural influence at home. These childhood experiences ingrained in me a “given” sense of Chinese identity, which translated into a strong desire to pass on the language and its associative culture to future generations. Stemming from this was a long-term dream to study in China, which I viewed as a form of “pilgrimage” to the wellspring of my own culture.

However, after I embarked on my undergraduate studies in Chinese language and literature at Fudan University in Shanghai on a Public Service Commission scholarship, I began to realise that the “Chinese-ness” that I have taken for granted warranted reappraisal and re-understanding. From my reflections on the different phenomena and situations that I encountered in the past four years, captured in the tens of thousands of words in my diary, three key revelations emerge.

Firstly, I came to realise that a common language (and even common ancestral roots) does not necessarily entail a similar Chinese identity. I am Singaporean, a third-generation overseas Chinese, and of Chinese descent all at the same time. Though I may emphasise a certain “identity” of my “Chinese-ness” depending on the context in which I am situated, it became increasingly clear to me that the Chinese locals and I have a natural tendency to view each other as the “other” because of our different nationalities. We may share the same cultural roots, but mutual acceptance arises from an acknowledgement of differences, of which “national identity” shaped by our different political systems is paramount. I finally understood that placing hope on a “singular Chinese-ness” is really just a form of cultural idealism (and maybe even fantasy).

Secondly, the dismal state of cultural tradition in China shook my belief that there would truly be a cultural renaissance in what I once saw as a distant “motherland”. That also reduced the possibility that a rediscovery and reinterpretation of traditional culture in China would revive interest in Chinese language learning in Singapore. Through participating in ethnographic projects to understand more about local customs and folk literature, I realised that some of the core elements of Chinese culture, often encapsulated in folk beliefs, customs and practices of overseas Chinese communities, are preserved best in Southeast Asia. The so-called “cultural preservation” in China is essentially politically motivated, with economic consideration overriding all else. To the government, “Chinese Renaissance” is a carnival of symbols (celebrations of forgotten customs and festivals, wearing ancient dress, and so on); to the opportunists, it is a creation of a culture industry. As a Chinese lecturer of mine once joked, in China, real tradition is either in the books (in ancient texts) or underground (in artefacts). Extreme as they are, his words portend a grim unfolding reality – that the gradual loss of our ethnic Chinese traditions is perhaps foreshadowed by the gradual “thinning” of tradition in the land of our cultural roots.

Thirdly, the East-West strife in the academic arena and constant talk of Eurocentricity in the Chinese context alerted me to similar situations in the Singapore context. In recent years, our political leaders have placed greater emphasis on China and the Chinese language. The problem is this: even though on the surface many profess to be “impressed” by those like me who study Chinese in China, the society as a whole still places little importance on the Chinese language. Basically, we find that the English language always proves to be of greater practical value, while the Chinese language has an air of morality arising from Confucian teachings that come bound with language education at school. All this leads to a stereotypical belief that the Chinese language is “not cool”. There appears to be an insurmountable gap between Singaporeans whose first language is English and those whose first language is Chinese. The two groups do not seem able to communicate to each other the ideas and values inherent in the two languages.

The way I see it, the above three points have important bearing on language planning and Chinese language education in Singapore. That there are multiple facets of one’s “Chinese-ness” signals the possibility of different configurations in one’s view of self-identity across social groups and across generations. This should prompt us to constantly rethink the role of Chinese language education in shaping one’s perception of who one is. The fragmentation and disintegration of our cultural tapestry hint at a possible dilemma we face in Singapore: on the one hand, we need to try to preserve and impart as much of what is left of Chinese tradition and culture in our society; on the other hand, we may find it increasingly difficult to maintain such diffusion of culture in family and school without children feeling a sense of detachment between tradition and their way of life. The worst-case scenario would be where Chinese Singaporeans no longer feel anything for their ethnic culture, to the extent of abandoning rites and practices. This could challenge the long-held notion that language is an embodiment of culture, with language learning becoming purely instrumental. Finally, the English-Chinese divide points to the need for us to break out of the self-imposed boundaries of Chinese and Western cultural circles, and rid ourselves of the emotional baggage that hinders meaningful two-way communication. To do so, we may need to question if the logic of “Mother Tongue as the cultural essence, English as the working language” still remains valid.

Our current learners regard their mother tongue as just another (boring) subject to be “learned”, something that is not inherently a part of their being. Language teaching needs to move away from talking “to” students to talking “with” them. Acquisition of language should be accompanied by inquisition of the underlying cultural elements and, eventually, philosophical exploration of humanity and identity. The best scenario would be to have discussions on the same deep questions during both English and Mother Tongue lessons. For students, language learning may then once again be truly engaging, through the comparison of cultures which hopefully paves the way for them to appreciate who they are and where they stand in terms of their thoughts, ideas, values and beliefs.

下一个二十年

不久前，我过了27岁生日。在聚餐上，心里突然萌生了这样一个问题：今年就读小学一年级的学生，正好7岁。二十年后，当他们过27岁生日时，本地社会将是什么样一番情景？那时的青年，又会对个人身份、国家发展和世界格局，秉持怎样的观念和态度？

历史的发展，很多时候不全受我们主宰。但在我们能力所及的范围内，我希望二十年后的青年，能够多一些历史感，多一些 “内省”能力，多一些行动力。

先说历史感。社体部代部长陈振声在近期的一场青年对话会上，鼓励年轻一代国人把身份认同建立在对于国家未来的共同理想和目标上。有些友人在面簿上转载相关报道，并突出了这个观念：我们“短暂”的建国史，不足以作为我们找寻和建立身份认同的依据。

真是如此吗？是历史不足为据，还是我们从未真正去体会历史的厚度和丰富性？也许，是我们的历史教育，过度强调某种特定的叙述，赞扬“成王”的主旋律忽略了“败寇”，使历史显得单薄、乏味。这几年，国人关注咖啡山坟场和丹绒巴葛火车站背后的故事，是个好现象，但为何我们总是在快失去的时候，才以猎奇的心理去“瞻仰”古迹？

一国之历史，不仅仅是“大历史”，还有坊间的“地方史”，也包括我们身边的长辈所走过的路。当父亲望着住家对面的大草坪，向我讲述儿时养猪的情境、波动巴西雨后淹水的面貌、或是当下地铁线的建筑工地从前是多么大的一个粪池，我总有让他说多一点的冲动。因为，说故事的人，不只在讲述个人史，也在传承一代人的集体回忆。而听故事的人，若能身临其境地去感受讲述者的时代，体会一代人的心路历程、崎岖坎坷、单纯幸福，他会发觉，过去、现在和未来，凝聚于自身，进而获得一股勇往前进的心灵力量。

这，就是历史感，是构建集体身份共识的重要参照点。我绝不希望二十年后的青年，以不屑的语气告诉我：Uncle，其实我一点都不在乎你们“老人”做过什么，我只在乎未来能为我带来什么。

本地社会的不断转变，也使一些国人觉得，已经认不清自己是谁了。在世界各地能充当“万能插座”的国人，回到自己的国家，却不知为何无所适从，乃至感到迷茫和压抑。

于是，我们习惯性地不断在向外找寻刺激，找寻能为自我身份起定义作用的象征与标志。正如我们“找寻”幸福而忘了那其实是一个选择，渴望被爱却忘了学会爱自己、爱他人一样，我们似乎已经忘了，归属感、幸福感、身份认同，其实取决于个人心态的调适。

我们需要的，是与自己的灵魂和精神进行“内省”式对话的能力。在寻求认同和共鸣，并不断追问国家能为我们做些什么之外，我们是否应该转换思维模式，问问自己：即使国家、社会存在诸多不完美，即使多元性对我们的团结构成了暂时的困难，我们是否选择并承诺继续为这土地上的人事物奋斗？

反诸自我、由内生发的个人、群体与国家身份认同，才是无坚不摧的。

而要促进发展，就离不开行动力。

在此资讯科技发达、社交媒体鼎盛的时代，偶尔会在网络上，读到一些青年们反思社会现状、文化进程及公共政策的文章。有些批判性的文章，引述古今中外各类学术理论，貌似针砭时弊，实为误导读者。有些文章不论好坏，只有是“官方”说辞就多加笞鞑。还有些文章，其实言之有理，但总觉得停留在过去的思维模式中，无法很好把握当前社会的多元发展和动向。

我们必须承认，比起过往，网络上诸多的声音是个好趋势——最起码，年轻人已逐渐脱离“政治冷漠”。那些处处调侃、批评、反对执政者及公共政策的声音，虽缺乏实质，但从姿态上也起到了一定程度的政治/政策监督作用。

然而，如何把这“思辨”的浪潮往建设性的方向推进，包括培养多视角的批判能力，学会通过与人交往、交流来认识社会新趋势并对其进行表述，最终从网络走出来，从批判者成为改善社会状态的行动者，促进公民社会的发展，正是行动力的意义所在。

下一个二十年，我不希望自己活在一个只有嘈杂的埋怨声、没有切实行动、处处仍只等政府来领头改变现状的新加坡。

What we may learn from monastic education in Myanmar

Dear K,

I took the opportunity of this week's leave to read through your paper, and I must say it has been an inspirational journey understanding the functions of monastic education esp within the broader socio-political context of Myanmar. It has reminded me how much we in Singapore have taken safety and protection for granted, but extrapolating from that, also how much we might have at times neglected the desire of a 'spiritual haven' for teens who are lost in their quest for a meaning to life and a philosophy of existence here in this little island. As Singapore's education system continues on its road of evolution towards holistic education, different pathways to success, 21st-century skills and other fashionable jargon of this era, your paper is a timely reminder how we have sidelined some age-old fundamentals of what education truly means.

The first point that struck me is crystallized in this following paragraph of yours: "While the spirit of enquiry is encouraged and the child is allowed to grow and develop at his or her own pace, the oral tradition (rote learning and repetition), the rule of discipline and obedience, and sometimes corporal punishment and manual labour as punishment have equal importance in nurturing mature and socially responsible citizens."

We seem to have forgotten, in modern days, that throughout the history of great civilizations, the great kings, scholars, poets and intellectuals were nurtured through learning processes that combined hard work and great effort with critical inquiry and reflection of their times. Today when we talk about creativity, critical thinking and student-centred learning there also seems to be a connotation of 'rebellious attitude' that makes these terms almost irreconcilable with the ideas of discipline and obedience. I've heard stories of parents in China who get worried when their toddlers obey rules too well. It sounds absurd but it is true that many systems today are unwittingly encouraging 'impudence' among their youths without truly achieving the desired effects of matured reasoning, critical thought and 'out-of-the-box' perceptions. We seem to always neglect the beauty of a 'middle way', a delicate balance of forces and elements from opposites.

The second point that resonated with me is the fact that "Children who attend monastic schools and live in monastic institutions learn fairly quickly that they are not only required to study well within the classroom but also to live well outside of it, and even to take back their learning to their families and neighbourhood. The children are required to practice certain spiritual and human values, live in community with others, develop relationships, and learn to serve and care for others as learning takes place through the curriculum as well as through each interaction and each experience lived". It used to be the case in Chinese societies that achieving good results brought glory to the family, and thus personal achievement was always related to the good of one's family and community. Today however I am really feeling a great surge of individualism among the youths. Success is increasingly defined as how much one can realize his/her own potential or talents, with values and interpersonal relationships relegated to the background and being less of a focus among the young. Yes, the system has nurtured a whole generation of seemingly caring youths who engage in community service, but do these budding adults give enough attention to the meaning of 'each interaction and each experience lived'? I doubt so. For them, interacting with the computer is probably a better substitute for an hour of coffee chat at Starbucks with a close friend.

So I guess we do compromise some things when systems evolve and societies develop. The monastic schools in your study might not be systemically well-organized but at least I feel a strong sense of mission and the true spirit of education oriented towards the individual and the community. I guess that is wherein lies the power of religious philosophy and thought. I might have mentioned before that since young I have been influenced by the traditions of Confucianism, the rites of Taoism and the thoughts of Buddhism. I count myself lucky that these have instilled in me a sense of personal direction. As I went deeper into Chinese history and culture in university, I also developed a more acute awareness of how these 3 schools of thoughts have intermingled to create the philosophical system that underpinned Chinese politics and its system of thought for thousands of years. Most pertinently, the injects of Buddhism from 2nd to 4th Centuries AD helped Confucianism to overcome its own socio-political shortcomings and elevated the philosophical thoughts of Taoism from passive cynicism to proactive introspection - all of which eventually created a strong intellectual tradition that lasted from the Tang dynasty (618-907 AD) through early 20th Century. It is a pity that we cannot cover much of Buddhist teachings in explicit terms in our classrooms in case we are accused of evangelicalism, so the most that can be done is to 'package' these thoughts in the language of Confucianism - which is seen as less of a religion than a school of social thought. Even then, I do feel a strong need to deepen our children's moral, ethical and spiritual understanding of themselves and their communities. How exactly to do so, I'm not sure. But as you mentioned in your thesis, it eventually would boil down to person, processes, context and more importantly, opportunities.

Thanks again for this paper that has sparked thoughts and introspection on my part. And certainly, when the chance arrives, I would greatly hope to visit you in Myanmar and tour this land that has always been shrouded in a mist of mystery for me as a South East Asian.

Take care and keep in touch!

Best wishes,
Xiong

华人、华文、华语，究竟算什么 ——留学中国反思记录

陈炜雄

    几年前，在我获得公共服务署海外教育奖学金，等待着到中国修读中文时，曾到了我国某中学实习。进入课堂，短暂的介绍后，立即有学生举手问道：“老师，你为 什么要去中国，不去美国？”我回答说，自己想念中文，所以如此选择。于是，学生追问：“中文有什么好？学了有什么用？”

当 时，我并没法给予那学生一个回答。因为，对我而言，这从不是我必须去思考的问题。我知道的是，幼儿时曾以流利的潮州话与祖父母沟通，但老人家过世后，自己 的潮语也大大退步；而与父母亲沟通，从小便是用华语。文化方面，虽然不曾读过四书五经，但自己却从长辈们的身教中，被灌输了一套儒家价值观，加上对佛道信 仰的耳濡目染，可以说，我是在一个相对传统的华族氛围中长大的。

换句话说，说华语、写华文、做华人，从来就是一个既定（given），无需理性地剖析“为什么”。至于留学中国，原因也很单纯：就是带着一种“朝圣”般的心情回返自己文化的发源地。若可能的话，尽量深入挖掘，“取经”回国。

然而，到了上海，在复旦大学与中国人一同上课，才发觉，原来很多东西并非想象中如此单纯。

新加坡人、华裔、华人：多重身份的再认识

    我印象很深刻，在刚入学的时候，在班会上做自我介绍，其间提到了自己的国籍。班会结束后，便有许多中国同学主动上前，要与我交朋友。羞涩之余，自己也有些 受宠若惊。那时，有四句话印象最深：“新加坡很干净哦？”、“鞭刑还厉害不？”、“你汉语说得真好！”、“你英语应该也很棒吧？”

    霎那间，很明显地感觉到，就算操一口流利的华语，就算同样是黄皮肤黑头发，中国人首先是从国籍的角度，将我视为与他们不同的人。在文化渊源上，我们或许都是炎黄子孙，但在现实中，真正决定我们“对外身份”的，首先是政治体制对我们的塑造与影响。

    因此，在与校园刊物《复旦青年》做的采访中，我曾不假思索地吐出了这样的话：“华语是我的母语。我和中国的联系，是基因学和文化学意义上的。但是，我的一套行为举止、办事方法、意识形态，乃至我看待自己同胞和全人类的方式，却是‘新加坡式’的。”

    当这种区分被夸大时，新加坡人会开始觉得，同样是黄皮肤，但与中国相比，新加坡社会更加发达，因此作为国民的我们也似乎“更加文明”。于是，我逐渐明白， 为何许多初到中国的新加坡人，有时会故意操一口“新加坡式”英语。说到底，这是一种姿态，目的在于对外凸现我们并非中华人民共和国国民。扪心自问，我们很 多人会有种潜在的意识，认为自己在某方面比中国人更优秀。甚至，目前在新加坡，国人对来自中国的“新移民”所持的态度，也是类似的“变相歧视”。

    然而，特别到了一趟潮州去“寻根”，祖辈老家找不到，却看到孩子们玩耍，心中突然萌生一个念头：假使祖父当年决定留在中国不移民，或许今天的我就不会是异 客，而是另一个看客眼里那些玩弹珠、钓鱼、跳飞机的孩童之一。瞬时间，心里是庆幸中夹杂着对祖辈的感激。同时，隐约之中，觉得似乎有种纽带在牵制着我们。 由此，不甘心就这样使自己与中国人之间断绝联系，认为自己得为中国和中国人做些什么。

因 此，我开始跟随一名教授出外考察民俗与民间文学，假期中与较要好的中国同学们回他们福建、江西、湖南、北京的老家，并且筹款到云南扶贫，资助高中生考大 学。这一切的过程中，华人的长相与流利的华语，是有效的敲门砖，易于打破各种隔阂。彰显“华人”身份的同时，我开始发觉，原来有些最原生态的中华文化因 子，恰恰在东南亚保留得最好，而我们却从不懂得珍惜。而中国所谓的“文化遗产保护”，其实也是一种政治游戏。我曾参与过的金山农民画与上海石库门的民俗调 查，发觉到了最后，功利考量胜过一切。至于所谓的“国学热”，在政府那里成了形式主义（祭黄帝、穿古装，鬼点子层出不穷），在投机取巧的人手里成为文化产 业的建构，而在有心的学者那里，成果则往往无法“深入民心”，因而便无可厚非地成为“象牙塔”中的研究。

于 是，我也终于明白，寄希望于“中华大同”，其实是一种文化理想（甚至是幻想）主义。因为，自从解放之后，特别是文革与改革开放接踵的洗礼，中国已并非我们 幻想中的“神州大地”。如本校某教授曾戏谑到，在中国，真正的传统文化，若不是“在书里”（文献），就是“在地底”（文物）。话虽极端了些，但对我们是一 大启示：我们自身华族文化的式微，也许是伴随传统在其发源处的逐渐“真空”；而这对新加坡而言，将是一个不容回避的挑战，因为我们的文化后盾，本身已经千 疮百孔。

“中西会通”与“双文化”的问题

    其实，中国传统文化的现状，在很大程度上可以溯源到“五四新文化运动”。从对传统一味的盲目批判，到有研究的、具选择性的批评认识，二十世纪初的文人们对 待传统的态度，以及研究的方法与视角，实际上依然影响着当下的中国学术界。我常跟朋友们说，自己在中国留学最大的收获，莫过于“知识分子般的批判精神”与 “中西会通的视角”。其实，前者也可归入后者，因为现代中国知识分子的态度，很大程度上是传统儒家与西方启蒙主义思想结合的产物。至于“中西会通”，我并 不打算下一个确切定义，因为各学科领域都会有自身界定。我更多想谈谈自己的经历与体会。

    在复旦学习，即使是念中文系，却必修西方文学作品选读、西方文艺理论、比较文学等课程；而哲学方面，我既接触儒家、道家、佛学经典，亦精读过亚历士多德、 卢梭、海德格尔等人的名著。姑且不论自己的学习成效如何，这里要提出的是，留学中国绝对不是只接触中国文化经典。有人或许要质疑，许多西方大学不也有汉学 的课程？关键就在此：我总觉得，当中国人学西方人的时候，总是抱以一种极度谦卑而虚心的态度；而西方人解读东方时，则更多带有一种自身传统观念的影子。这 固然有助于填补中国学术的空白，但很多的误读，便是出于一种阴魂不散的“西方中心主义”。而中国方面，对于初学者而言，许多的解读是尽可能放在西方语境下 理解的，因此更加纯粹；但中国学术也因此往往出现一种现象，即对自己总缺乏信心。解读他者文化固然如此，就连对自身文化的理解，有时也必须诉诸西方理论或 观念的避风港。这种“自卑”，在很大程度上也可以说是“五四新青年”对旧文化的批评，特别以鲁迅为代表。所谓的“民族劣根性”，很容易导致我这种外来者在 接触中国文化与中国人时，处处只见“阿Q”。甚至，有时发觉自己也有鲁迅小说人物身上的“劣根性”，会莫名地恐惧起来，怪祖先遗传给我的坏因子。

    事实上，任何文化从来就不是全盘地善或全盘地恶。中国历史上可以出现很多奇怪的现象与畸形的社会形态，但其基于的哲学主张也许并不坏。就如我曾经犯了一个 大错误，把中国封建制度下的群体观念，错误解读为“中华文化从不把人当人看”。这种误读，原于对西方个人主义同样错误而不全面的判断，以为个体就高于一 切，“我思故我在”。在儒家思想由政治观念“单薄”化为一种纯粹的伦理观念，而逐渐失去其效力时，中国人就会往西方基督教那与一切世人建立关系的上帝。然 而，西方人对东方人强烈的家庭观念，有时也是抱有憧憬的。于是，即使是全球化时代，在文化的领域，还有许许多多道墙是需要突破的。

    以此为基点，我们把视线拉回新加坡，就不难发现，其实类似的情况同样存在。近年来，我国领导人对中国与华语的重视越加明显。但问题是，人家表面上会对我这 种在中国学中文的人表示“佩服”，但社会整体上其实对华文并不重视。我们依然有着这样的印象：英文报比华文报更加“开放”，因为它无需坚守一个华族道德立 场。有些学生依然有种华文老师不“cool”的刻板印象。同样是社会批判，以英语进行讽刺的谐星总比以华语进行讽刺显得更具幽默感。如此种种，无需再赘。 基本上，我们就会看到，英语总显得更有价值，而华文那种道德立场似乎有了点“道学气”，批判则成为了一种“不合时宜”的表现。甚至，各自以华文及以英文为 “第一语言”的人群中，有时也会在同样的问题上，自说自话，根本不构成沟通。半年多前，李光耀资政一句“无论孩子在学习华文的过程中有多么困难，即使无法 考得优异的成绩，家长都不应该放弃让孩子学习华文的念头”，导致中英报章上沸沸扬扬的讨论。但是，英文报的主要议题是“取消华文考试”，中文报的则是“如 何继续推广华语”。当时，没有人出来对两份报章在议题上的隔膜提出看法，但若以小见大，双语在新加坡社会是否已经“通”了，值得置疑。

     “通”这一个字，很关键。除了蕴含着对两种语言的理解，实际上还包括两种语言所表述的观点与观念的互通。有《联合早报》资深评论员关于“灵魂语言”的观 点，也有此书标题“母语为本，英语为用”的提法，但说到底，新加坡其实在很大程度上并不给予任何语言所承载的文化观念足够的重视，于是就无从谈体用之别。

进 一步说，我们当下对于“文化”这个词本身的界定，也是模糊不清的。就如“双文化”课程，听起来像是广义上的中西文化研究与对比，但从政策确立的基础上，其 重心始终在当代中国。于是，当我翻阅第一届“双文化”课程的论文集时，便发现学生大多在一种中、新当代现代社会的现象对比上做文章，而且用的方法大多为极 为科学化的定量方法。并不是说这不好，而是有些时候，真正核心的东西，现象背后深层的原因，往往是需要感性认识，无法确切去衡量的。学子们还年轻，能够把 握现象，本身就是相当可嘉的。但是，他们也必须明白，很多时候，现象并不代表什么，特别是在中国。许多文化现象的构成因素，深埋在文、史、哲之中。而且， 我国政治基于某种需要而提倡儒家，但中国思想体系从来就不是单一的。可惜的是，新加坡人，特别年轻一代，似乎没有强烈的“溯源欲”或明确的历史观，对古代 的东西也不太敢兴趣。这种心态，值得正视。

因 此，最重要的是，“双文化”精英除为了去与中国接触之外，还应该始终把视线拉回自身。“知彼”之外，还需“知己”。当下，纯粹意义上的中、西比较，不论对 我们认识中国或是认识我们自身特殊的文化身份，都是不可或缺的。而如果这对个人来说太累，也许，设立平台让熟悉不同观念体系的人士交流切磋，是比较省力而 有效的方法。其实，这也并不简单，因为要将复杂的文化观念以容易理解的方式表述出来，也是考功夫的。不过，中国与西方世界固然如此，我国社会内部的文化冲 突与分裂更不能继续放纵。也只有排除掉一种中、西文化圈的画地为牢及其中始终潜在的“心结”，英文才不至于因“用”而肤浅，华文才不至于因“体”而太沉 重。

语言教学与情感触动

    由于自己是奖学金得主，我其实从此次华文教改一开始便以实习生的身份参与到了小学课程编写队伍中。比起那些没日没夜地赶进度的同事们，自己的贡献确实不值 一提。然而，这却让我不断地对华文教育未来的走向、语文教学的前途等问题有所思考。对此，我曾在《联合早报》上发表过几篇文章。其中，《华文教育的 “酷”》一篇，有再谈的余地。

    该文章的基本观点是：对于那些不和我们的生存直接发生关系的东西，我们都有选择的余地。而不论对待流行、对待时髦，或是对待一种语言、一种文学，最根本的 必须是，客体有一种打动我们情感的力量。 对这个盲点有所认识，是在自己被“韩流”影响后，有一天在思考 “软势力” 何以能够让我们陷入一种半痴迷的遐想时，得出的结论。各地孔子学院如果有所不足，也便是还未充分消化吸收这一点。

我 们不得不承认，当下越来越多孩子对自身母语的态度，与其他科目一样，都认为是“外来”、“后天习得”的。我们没有办法，因为新一代的父母，毕竟已不如成长 于传统的老一辈。于是，要填补父母留下的“身教”的空白，一个办法便是抓住孩子的心，让语文教学中带有感性的成分。换句话，语言教学必须从以往的“对你 说”（talk to you）转变为“与你说” （talk with you）。教改提倡“兴趣”，归根结底便是这种心态的转型。

其 实，我总有一个感觉，认为我们的中学乃至高中华文教育，有着一大片等待开发的空旷园地。这个阶段的孩子，在心态上很微妙：他们既可以开始进行思想交流，却 又不完全成熟；他们愿意接受新事物，同时也因容易被印象牵引而排斥事物；他们向往精神世界的畅游，又不能完全被放任。还有一点，几乎是年龄跨度很广的普遍 现象，就是我们知道自己无知，但却很难拥有一种热忱去深入挖掘，特别是与具体生活需求没关系的问题，而归咎于没时间。

    于是，下来的问题，便是怎么做。这当然有赖于教师们自行的探索，但一个很关键的方面，便是在选材上。在中国久了，就慢慢发觉，中华文化的许多好东西都在古 文当中，而新加坡教师们或者不知古人之趣味追求，或者明白但不晓得如何以现代汉语的方式去进行表述。现当代作家固然不乏适合中学生的作品，但背景与语用方 式却是我们孩子不熟悉的。于是，我们确实有必要，广泛吸纳台湾、香港、甚至日本、韩国等与中国有着某种渊源的文化资源。吸纳这些地方的材料，一是在其年轻 流行文化的风靡上，乘胜追击，促进汉语阅读；二是透过这些作品背后的身份探索，激发学生透过语言对自己的身份的探索。这当然有一个翻译与出版的问题，但并 非不能克服。至于新加坡文学，亦不乏佳作，但有时对学生而言是阳春白雪，有时则有一种怪异心理在作祟，觉得离家太近的东西没吸引力。其实，家往往才是我们 最不熟悉的精神源泉。关键在于如何揭示这些盲点并激发学生的好奇心。

配 合着选材，还有引导方法的问题。长期以来，语文课堂的文化教育，很多时候都是对文化标志（cultural symbols）的描述，以及为了写作文而累积“文化资料”。知识当然重要，但也许华语课堂需要进一步注入的元素，在于对普遍人性的探索。也就是说，教师 们或许应该尝试把哲理性的反思带入课堂，而且同时从中探索不同民族对同一问题的各种态度与处理方法。母语也好，英语也好，这种广度与深度都是必要的。最理 想的状态，就是英语与母语课同步地围绕一个有含量的课题开展讨论。那么，学生既学语言，同时也学文化比较；而教师在合作的过程中，也可一反画地为牢的常 态，为前文提到的“突破中、英隔膜与分裂”开一个头。

结语：究竟算什么？

    留学中国，四年下来，看到的现象林林总总，思考的问题层出不穷。毕业之际，回顾几万字的日记，才猛然发觉，有意无意之间，在华人身份、中华文化、华语教学 等问题上费了不少笔墨。此文便是挑了这三个范畴中比较少有人谈及的观察与想法，特别是因为留学中国而关注到的问题或所得到的启发，综合而成。

那 么，有人也许会问，华人、华文、华语，究竟算什么？我写“华人”身份在当今中国的尴尬处境，写“华文”依旧在新加坡处于一种有点次等、不被人完全理解的情 况，写“华语”在心理上给人的乏味感，是切实的个人感受。但是，我既不愿意将问题无限量放大，成为悲观者，亦不希望回避现实，做一个乐观主义者。我一直相 信，历史是由人创造的。而此刻的我，依旧热爱华语、华文与华人身份。不同与以往的是，我已经逐步探索出“中文有什么好？学了有什么用？”的答案，并打算通 过自己的教学实践，让孩子从亲身体验中，也能够寻获他们自身对此问题的回答。

再思“寓教于乐”

         上周五，儿童协会属下的裕廊青年中心，在树群中学举办了一场名为YouthGig的音乐会。三十名表演者都是介于13至17岁的在籍学 生，来自不同学校，却因对音乐有着共同的热忱而聚在了一起。青年们轮番上阵，通过钢琴、吉他、打击乐、舞蹈和歌声，展现各自的才艺，释放出青春的无限能 量。音乐，似乎有种神奇的力量，让舞台上的同学们，隐去平日的羞怯腼腆，以自信、淡定的姿态，站在国会议员、 师长、家人和同学面前。

          更难能可贵的是，同学们的各项表演，都恰如其分地与音乐会的主题“爱护生命，远离吸烟”挂钩。几个月前，当我听青年中心的社工说，学生必须通过表演反映如 此严肃的课题时，心中难免有些担忧，不知这是否会对青年们构成困难。事实证明，我的顾虑是多余的。学生们的创意，远远超出了我和其他志愿者的想象。

         印象较深的一个表演，是由三首英文流行歌曲串联而成的组曲。按表演者的介绍，第一首歌《Payphone》，以钢琴的纯音伴奏配合自由式舞蹈，反映 一个吸烟者决心戒烟，拨打戒烟热线电话求助。之后，第二首歌《Titanium》，以钢琴配合演唱，通过歌词的涵义和歌声的跌宕起伏，刻画戒烟过程的痛苦 和艰辛。最后，表演者以钢琴、歌唱、舞蹈演绎第三首歌《Fireworks》，体现出成功戒烟后的欢愉气氛。

        也许有读者会质疑，这是不是有些过于牵强。但在我看来，学生能有意识地把他们喜欢的歌曲，通过声、乐、舞的有机结合，叙述一个故事，体现出起承转合，其中 的创意并非所有人都能做到。而且，同样是宣导戒烟的正面信息，青年们所采取的方式，远比官方“遏阻式”的宣传或长辈人们“奉劝式”的唠叨，来得新颖、有 趣。

        这使我不禁开始对“寓教于乐”进行重新的思考：当我们主张“寓教于乐”的时候，我们在多大程度上，能够真正调动青年们的主动性和积极性？对于“乐” 的理解，只是从我们成人的角度出发，去进行片面性的诠释，还是不断为青年们提供机会和平台，让他们去尝试不同的事物，找到心目中真正属于他们的“乐”？

         而对重要课题或知识的“教”，又应该如何以学生的“乐”（兴趣）为基础进行引导，使其不是硬生生的“灌输”，而能做到顺水推舟？

            沿着上述的问题，这里想分享近来听到的两个“寓教于乐”的案例。

            第一个例子，是在国民服役期间，从一位后辈那儿听来的。这位友人，在本地念完中学后，到了澳洲墨尔本的一所高中修读A水准课程。留学期间，他受学校的运动 风气影响，爱上了嘻哈舞（Hip Hop），甚至成了嘻哈舞社的会长。但真正让他惊喜的是，舞社并非只是一个练舞的地方。训练基本技巧之余，他的老师和教练还为社团成员上课，介绍嘻哈兴起 和传播的历史背景。此外，他们也一同进行实地考查，理解墨尔本乃至整个澳洲的街头文化。友人说，留学的经验让他理解到，嘻哈是一种活生生的“文化”，但很 多新加坡的舞者，只关注舞蹈动作的技巧性，却不理解整个舞蹈的起源，以及不同招式在创造时所承载的情感基础。

            第二个例子，听自一位在我国西部某特选中学执教的友人。该校近来注重学生品格和领导能力的培养，于是在上个月的假期，让十位学生领袖，自行组织到日本的背 包旅行。一周的行程，全由学生自行决定，学校方面只负责接洽机票和旅馆的安排。但前提是，学生必须考察日本群众的公德心与公民意识。随团的教师，只负责学 生的安全，其他方面听由学生的安排。我浏览了友人提供的学生部落格，欣然地发觉，同学们对公共设施、交通系统、住宿环境等方面进行了细腻的观察，对所遇到 的人如何待人接物也记录得十分详细。甚至，他们还到一个大型购物商场，模仿韩国综艺节目Running Man进行了一场男女追逐游戏，借机观察店主和顾客对于他们的行为有何反应，并逐步形成他们对公民意识的价值参照系。

         我想，以上的两个例子，对本地的教育是有启示作用的。澳洲的例子促使我们反思：所谓的“课外活动”，难道就该纯粹只是为了品格发展吗？正如嘻哈舞能够融合历史和社会学一样，我们的课外活动，是否也能够与不同学科的知识，进行更有机的衔接与联系？

        而本地学生到日本当背包客的例子，则如同本文开头提到的音乐会一样，昭示着我们：当成年人学会更加去尊重青年人的自发性和创造性时，有时，我们能够“教”给孩子的经验和内容，远比我们原先预设的，还要多、还要深刻。

华语语系与文化履迹

上个星期天，我出席了哈佛大学教授王德威在报业中心礼堂的演讲：《华语语系的人文视野与新加坡经验：十个关键词》。在演讲中，王教授解 释道，世界其他的语系，是殖民地时代，被殖民地区以宗主国的强势语言所进行的文化表征。而相反的，“华语语系”却是各代华人在大陆之外的地区，自觉地传承 中华文化认知的行为。正如在曾是英属海峡殖民地的新加坡，出现了华族子民以华语作为文化传承的标记。王教授接着以十个关键词，阐释了华语语系视野下的新加 坡经验。他从文学、艺术、文教和文化理念的领域，挑选了具代表的人事物，勾勒出新加坡华人社会这近两个世纪以来的人文面貌。

说者无心，听者有意。聆听着王教授娓娓道来，我不禁回想起过去十年，留学上海、香港，之后回到新加坡从事华文教育的经历。这一路的旅程，是一个新加坡华族后裔对自我身份认同的寻觅，也改变了我对“文化身份”的看法。

这里，从三个方面，略谈个人的文化履迹，分享我从王教授“华语语系”演讲中获得的启示。

首先，我想“华语语系”最重要的，是思想的传播和深化。这方面，王教授演讲中的例子，最具代表的要属在星洲推广儒学的林文庆。对新加坡华族子弟来说，在社会、家族、教育等场域中，都必然或多或少收到儒家思想潜移默化的熏陶。

出生于上世纪八十年代的我，在一个信奉民间信仰、长辈教育水平不高的传统华人家庭长大，在九十年代求学期间又接受了“儒家价值观”为基调的国家教育。因此，长大一些，自然想更了解中国传统的思想，弄清自己的文化价值观究竟为何物。

选择留学中国，便是纯粹为了想更了解自己。那些年，我明白了儒家的教化如何贯穿中国历史，明白了道家思想和道教之间的区别和关系，明白了佛家思想对 古代士人和现代文人的积极影响。于是，我很庆幸自己生长在一个儒释道融合的民间环境，也更加清楚地看到，儒释道思想的融合如何慢慢构成我的人生价值坐标。

不过，我后来愈加清楚地意识到，文化身份不只是思想。那当中还有时间长河中所发生的诸多事情，还有在这长河中沉浮的各色人物。新加坡华人，特别是年轻人，若要找到文化的归属感，就难免需要回归、理解本地华族社群的发展史。

这就提到了演讲给我的第二个启示：历史的视野。十个关键词，引出了十来个关键人物，仿佛给我这无知的后生晚辈上了一课“新加坡华社简史”。不论是以 英政府公民的视角书写《新华百年史》的宋旺相，整理了新马华文文学史的方修，或是带着忧患意识看待国家发展的“孤岛遗民”希尼尔，对于我来说都是耳熟的名 字，但很惭愧的，我却对他们的书写和文化产出，一知半解。

其实，演讲那天，我坐在一大群年长者之中，从他们的谈话中能听出他们是旧南大毕业生。看着他们提醒彼此，谁是谁的学长，谁哪一年毕业，又听到三位叔 叔在身后讨论他们小学时写繁体字、中学时写简体字的经验，我很想更深入地了解他们的故事。因为，他们的少年时代，对于我是遥远而陌生的。

但是，为何离我们最近的历史，反而是我们最不熟悉的？一代接着一代的不熟悉，伴随一代代人的逝去，历史的书写该如何延续，历史的断层又该如何弥补？我想，这是我们年轻一代需要深思的问题。

演讲来到了第七个关键词“多语剧场”。这时，郭宝崑的名字出现在屏幕上，接着是郭老曾说过的一段话：“文化无论是二元或多元，越往深处着想，你其实越会发现，它们之间是相通的。而且层次越深，关系就越紧密。这就是多元文化之美。”

这几年来，我一直在思考，身为一个新加坡华人，我是否太注重对“华人”的思考，而缺少了对新加坡本土的“在地性”想象？经时间沉淀，我发觉，在一个 多元文化的社会中，国家层面能提供的，是一个让不同族群、不同利益群体获得伸缩性的共同空间。但是，要填补和深化身份、价值、文化的实质，有赖于个人和群 体对当下和未来的集体想象。

只有这样，我们才有望从“容忍”过渡到“理解”，深化对其他族群、文化的交集和认识。

也许有人会问，思想的深化、历史的视野、在地性想象，在连华文都说不好的年幼一代华人身上，该如何发挥效益？再过二、三十年，本地是否还有所谓的“华语语系”文化现象？

曾经，我也因此而感到莫名的惆怅。但现在，身边许多朋友开始重拾华语，对他们的“华族性”展现出兴趣，也许正昭示着，前方并非一片黑暗。以后，即使年轻人需以英文为媒介，去理解自己的文化身份、甚至谱写自己的文化经验，最起码，他们对自己的“华族性”，不是麻木不仁的。

The Lost Tools of Learning

http://www.gbt.org/text/sayers.html

Dorothy Sayers

That I, whose experience of teaching is extremely limited, should presume to discuss education is a matter, surely, that calls for no apology. It is a kind of behavior to which the present climate of opinion is wholly favorable. Bishops air their opinions about economics; biologists, about metaphysics; inorganic chemists, about theology; the most irrelevant people are appointed to highly technical ministries; and plain, blunt men write to the papers to say that Epstein and Picasso do not know how to draw. Up to a certain point, and provided the the criticisms are made with a reasonable modesty, these activities are commendable. Too much specialization is not a good thing. There is also one excellent reason why the veriest amateur may feel entitled to have an opinion about education. For if we are not all professional teachers, we have all, at some time or another, been taught. Even if we learnt nothing--perhaps in particular if we learnt nothing--our contribution to the discussion may have a potential value. However, it is in the highest degree improbable that the reforms I propose will ever be carried into effect. Neither the parents, nor the training colleges, nor the examination boards, nor the boards of governors, nor the ministries of education, would countenance them for a moment. For they amount to this: that if we are to produce a society of educated people, fitted to preserve their intellectual freedom amid the complex pressures of our modern society, we must turn back the wheel of progress some four or five hundred years, to the point at which education began to lose sight of its true object, towards the end of the Middle Ages. Before you dismiss me with the appropriate phrase--reactionary, romantic, mediaevalist, laudator temporis acti (praiser of times past), or whatever tag comes first to hand--I will ask you to consider one or two miscellaneous questions that hang about at the back, perhaps, of all our minds, and occasionally pop out to worry us. When we think about the remarkably early age at which the young men went up to university in, let us say, Tudor times, and thereafter were held fit to assume responsibility for the conduct of their own affairs, are we altogether comfortable about that artificial prolongation of intellectual childhood and adolescence into the years of physical maturity which is so marked in our own day? To postpone the acceptance of responsibility to a late date brings with it a number of psychological complications which, while they may interest the psychiatrist, are scarcely beneficial either to the individual or to society. The stock argument in favor of postponing the school-leaving age and prolonging the period of education generally is there there is now so much more to learn than there was in the Middle Ages. This is partly true, but not wholly. The modern boy and girl are certainly taught more subjects--but does that always mean that they actually know more? Has it ever struck you as odd, or unfortunate, that today, when the proportion of literacy throughout Western Europe is higher than it has ever been, people should have become susceptible to the influence of advertisement and mass propaganda to an extent hitherto unheard of and unimagined? Do you put this down to the mere mechanical fact that the press and the radio and so on have made propaganda much easier to distribute over a wide area? Or do you sometimes have an uneasy suspicion that the product of modern educational methods is less good than he or she might be at disentangling fact from opinion and the proven from the plausible? Have you ever, in listening to a debate among adult and presumably responsible people, been fretted by the extraordinary inability of the average debater to speak to the question, or to meet and refute the arguments of speakers on the other side? Or have you ever pondered upon the extremely high incidence of irrelevant matter which crops up at committee meetings, and upon the very great rarity of persons capable of acting as chairmen of committees? And when you think of this, and think that most of our public affairs are settled by debates and committees, have you ever felt a certain sinking of the heart? Have you ever followed a discussion in the newspapers or elsewhere and noticed how frequently writers fail to define the terms they use? Or how often, if one man does define his terms, another will assume in his reply that he was using the terms in precisely the opposite sense to that in which he has already defined them? Have you ever been faintly troubled by the amount of slipshod syntax going about? And, if so, are you troubled because it is inelegant or because it may lead to dangerous misunderstanding? Do you ever find that young people, when they have left school, not only forget most of what they have learnt (that is only to be expected), but forget also, or betray that they have never really known, how to tackle a new subject for themselves? Are you often bothered by coming across grown-up men and women who seem unable to distinguish between a book that is sound, scholarly, and properly documented, and one that is, to any trained eye, very conspicuously none of these things? Or who cannot handle a library catalogue? Or who, when faced with a book of reference, betray a curious inability to extract from it the passages relevant to the particular question which interests them? Do you often come across people for whom, all their lives, a "subject" remains a "subject," divided by watertight bulkheads from all other "subjects," so that they experience very great difficulty in making an immediate mental connection between let us say, algebra and detective fiction, sewage disposal and the price of salmon--or, more generally, between such spheres of knowledge as philosophy and economics, or chemistry and art? Are you occasionally perturbed by the things written by adult men and women for adult men and women to read? We find a well-known biologist writing in a weekly paper to the effect that: "It is an argument against the existence of a Creator" (I think he put it more strongly; but since I have, most unfortunately, mislaid the reference, I will put his claim at its lowest)--"an argument against the existence of a Creator that the same kind of variations which are produced by natural selection can be produced at will by stock breeders." One might feel tempted to say that it is rather an argument for the existence of a Creator. Actually, of course, it is neither; all it proves is that the same material causes (recombination of the chromosomes, by crossbreeding, and so forth) are sufficient to account for all observed variations--just as the various combinations of the same dozen tones are materially sufficient to account for Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and the noise the cat makes by walking on the keys. But the cat's performance neither proves nor disproves the existence of Beethoven; and all that is proved by the biologist's argument is that he was unable to distinguish between a material and a final cause. Here is a sentence from no less academic a source than a front- page article in the Times Literary Supplement: "The Frenchman, Alfred Epinas, pointed out that certain species (e.g., ants and wasps) can only face the horrors of life and death in association." I do not know what the Frenchman actually did say; what the Englishman says he said is patently meaningless. We cannot know whether life holds any horror for the ant, nor in what sense the isolated wasp which you kill upon the window-pane can be said to "face" or not to "face" the horrors of death. The subject of the article is mass behavior in man; and the human motives have been unobtrusively transferred from the main proposition to the supporting instance. Thus the argument, in effect, assumes what it set out to prove--a fact which would become immediately apparent if it were presented in a formal syllogism. This is only a small and haphazard example of a vice which pervades whole books--particularly books written by men of science on metaphysical subjects. Another quotation from the same issue of the TLS comes in fittingly here to wind up this random collection of disquieting thoughts--this time from a review of Sir Richard Livingstone's "Some Tasks for Education": "More than once the reader is reminded of the value of an intensive study of at least one subject, so as to learn Tthe meaning of knowledge' and what precision and persistence is needed to attain it. Yet there is elsewhere full recognition of the distressing fact that a man may be master in one field and show no better judgement than his neighbor anywhere else; he remembers what he has learnt, but forgets altogether how he learned it." I would draw your attention particularly to that last sentence, which offers an explanation of what the writer rightly calls the "distressing fact" that the intellectual skills bestowed upon us by our education are not readily transferable to subjects other than those in which we acquired them: "he remembers what he has learnt, but forgets altogether how he learned it." Is not the great defect of our education today--a defect traceable through all the disquieting symptoms of trouble that I have mentioned--that although we often succeed in teaching our pupils "subjects," we fail lamentably on the whole in teaching them how to think: they learn everything, except the art of learning. It is as though we had taught a child, mechanically and by rule of thumb, to play "The Harmonious Blacksmith" upon the piano, but had never taught him the scale or how to read music; so that, having memorized "The Harmonious Blacksmith," he still had not the faintest notion how to proceed from that to tackle "The Last Rose of Summer." Why do I say, "as though"? In certain of the arts and crafts, we sometimes do precisely this--requiring a child to "express himself" in paint before we teach him how to handle the colors and the brush. There is a school of thought which believes this to be the right way to set about the job. But observe: it is not the way in which a trained craftsman will go about to teach himself a new medium. He, having learned by experience the best way to economize labor and take the thing by the right end, will start off by doodling about on an odd piece of material, in order to "give himself the feel of the tool." Let us now look at the mediaeval scheme of education--the syllabus of the Schools. It does not matter, for the moment, whether it was devised for small children or for older students, or how long people were supposed to take over it. What matters is the light it throws upon what the men of the Middle Ages supposed to be the object and the right order of the educative process. The syllabus was divided into two parts: the Trivium and Quadrivium. The second part--the Quadrivium--consisted of "subjects," and need not for the moment concern us. The interesting thing for us is the composition of the Trivium, which preceded the Quadrivium and was the preliminary discipline for it. It consisted of three parts: Grammar, Dialectic, and Rhetoric, in that order. Now the first thing we notice is that two at any rate of these "subjects" are not what we should call "subjects" at all: they are only methods of dealing with subjects. Grammar, indeed, is a "subject" in the sense that it does mean definitely learning a language--at that period it meant learning Latin. But language itself is simply the medium in which thought is expressed. The whole of the Trivium was, in fact, intended to teach the pupil the proper use of the tools of learning, before he began to apply them to "subjects" at all. First, he learned a language; not just how to order a meal in a foreign language, but the structure of a language, and hence of language itself--what it was, how it was put together, and how it worked. Secondly, he learned how to use language; how to define his terms and make accurate statements; how to construct an argument and how to detect fallacies in argument. Dialectic, that is to say, embraced Logic and Disputation. Thirdly, he learned to express himself in language-- how to say what he had to say elegantly and persuasively. At the end of his course, he was required to compose a thesis upon some theme set by his masters or chosen by himself, and afterwards to defend his thesis against the criticism of the faculty. By this time, he would have learned--or woe betide him-- not merely to write an essay on paper, but to speak audibly and intelligibly from a platform, and to use his wits quickly when heckled. There would also be questions, cogent and shrewd, from those who had already run the gauntlet of debate. It is, of course, quite true that bits and pieces of the mediaeval tradition still linger, or have been revived, in the ordinary school syllabus of today. Some knowledge of grammar is still required when learning a foreign language--perhaps I should say, "is again required," for during my own lifetime, we passed through a phase when the teaching of declensions and conjugations was considered rather reprehensible, and it was considered better to pick these things up as we went along. School debating societies flourish; essays are written; the necessity for "self- expression" is stressed, and perhaps even over-stressed. But these activities are cultivated more or less in detachment, as belonging to the special subjects in which they are pigeon-holed rather than as forming one coherent scheme of mental training to which all "subjects"stand in a subordinate relation. "Grammar" belongs especially to the "subject" of foreign languages, and essay-writing to the "subject" called "English"; while Dialectic has become almost entirely divorced from the rest of the curriculum, and is frequently practiced unsystematically and out of school hours as a separate exercise, only very loosely related to the main business of learning. Taken by and large, the great difference of emphasis between the two conceptions holds good: modern education concentrates on "teaching subjects," leaving the method of thinking, arguing, and expressing one's conclusions to be picked up by the scholar as he goes along' mediaeval education concentrated on first forging and learning to handle the tools of learning, using whatever subject came handy as a piece of material on which to doodle until the use of the tool became second nature. "Subjects" of some kind there must be, of course. One cannot learn the theory of grammar without learning an actual language, or learn to argue and orate without speaking about something in particular. The debating subjects of the Middle Ages were drawn largely from theology, or from the ethics and history of antiquity. Often, indeed, they became stereotyped, especially towards the end of the period, and the far-fetched and wire-drawn absurdities of Scholastic argument fretted Milton and provide food for merriment even to this day. Whether they were in themselves any more hackneyed and trivial then the usual subjects set nowadays for "essay writing" I should not like to say: we may ourselves grow a little weary of "A Day in My Holidays" and all the rest of it. But most of the merriment is misplaced, because the aim and object of the debating thesis has by now been lost sight of. A glib speaker in the Brains Trust once entertained his audience (and reduced the late Charles Williams to helpless rageb by asserting that in the Middle Ages it was a matter of faith to know how many archangels could dance on the point of a needle. I need not say, I hope, that it never was a "matter of faith"; it was simply a debating exercise, whose set subject was the nature of angelic substance: were angels material, and if so, did they occupy space? The answer usually adjudged correct is, I believe, that angels are pure intelligences; not material, but limited, so that they may have location in space but not extension. An analogy might be drawn from human thought, which is similarly non-material and similarly limited. Thus, if your thought is concentrated upon one thing--say, the point of a needle--it is located there in the sense that it is not elsewhere; but although it is "there," it occupies no space there, and there is nothing to prevent an infinite number of different people's thoughts being concentrated upon the same needle-point at the same time. The proper subject of the argument is thus seen to be the distinction between location and extension in space; the matter on which the argument is exercised happens to be the nature of angels (although, as we have seen, it might equally well have been something else; the practical lesson to be drawn from the argument is not to use words like "there" in a loose and unscientific way, without specifying whether you mean "located there" or "occupying space there." Scorn in plenty has been poured out upon the mediaeval passion for hair-splitting; but when we look at the shameless abuse made, in print and on the platform, of controversial expressions with shifting and ambiguous connotations, we may feel it in our hearts to wish that every reader and hearer had been so defensively armored by his education as to be able to cry: "Distinguo." For we let our young men and women go out unarmed, in a day when armor was never so necessary. By teaching them all to read, we have left them at the mercy of the printed word. By the invention of the film and the radio, we have made certain that no aversion to reading shall secure them from the incessant battery of words, words, words. They do not know what the words mean; they do not know how to ward them off or blunt their edge or fling them back; they are a prey to words in their emotions instead of being the masters of them in their intellects. We who were scandalized in 1940 when men were sent to fight armored tanks with rifles, are not scandalized when young men and women are sent into the world to fight massed propaganda with a smattering of "subjects"; and when whole classes and whole nations become hypnotized by the arts of the spell binder, we have the impudence to be astonished. We dole out lip-service to the importance of education--lip- service and, just occasionally, a little grant of money; we postpone the school-leaving age, and plan to build bigger and better schools; the teachers slave conscientiously in and out of school hours; and yet, as I believe, all this devoted effort is largely frustrated, because we have lost the tools of learning, and in their absence can only make a botched and piecemeal job of it. What, then, are we to do? We cannot go back to the Middle Ages. That is a cry to which we have become accustomed. We cannot go back--or can we? Distinguo. I should like every term in that proposition defined. Does "go back" mean a retrogression in time, or the revision of an error? The first is clearly impossible per se; the second is a thing which wise men do every day. "Cannot"-- does this mean that our behavior is determined irreversibly, or merely that such an action would be very difficult in view of the opposition it would provoke? Obviously the twentieth century is not and cannot be the fourteenth; but if "the Middle Ages" is, in this context, simply a picturesque phrase denoting a particular educational theory, there seems to be no a priori reason why we should not "go back" to it--with modifications--as we have already "gone back" with modifications, to, let us say, the idea of playing Shakespeare's plays as he wrote them, and not in the "modernized" versions of Cibber and Garrick, which once seemed to be the latest thing in theatrical progress. Let us amuse ourselves by imagining that such progressive retrogression is possible. Let us make a clean sweep of all educational authorities, and furnish ourselves with a nice little school of boys and girls whom we may experimentally equip for the intellectual conflict along lines chosen by ourselves. We will endow them with exceptionally docile parents; we will staff our school with teachers who are themselves perfectly familiar with the aims and methods of the Trivium; we will have our building and staff large enough to allow our classes to be small enough for adequate handling; and we will postulate a Board of Examiners willing and qualified to test the products we turn out. Thus prepared, we will attempt to sketch out a syllabus--a modern Trivium "with modifications" and we will see where we get to. But first: what age shall the children be? Well, if one is to educate them on novel lines, it will be better that they should have nothing to unlearn; besides, one cannot begin a good thing too early, and the Trivium is by its nature not learning, but a preparation for learning. We will, therefore, "catch 'em young," requiring of our pupils only that they shall be able to read, write, and cipher. My views about child psychology are, I admit, neither orthodox nor enlightened. Looking back upon myself (since I am the child I know best and the only child I can pretend to know from inside) I recognize three states of development. These, in a rough-and- ready fashion, I will call the Poll-Parrot, the Pert, and the Poetic--the latter coinciding, approximately, with the onset of puberty. The Poll-Parrot stage is the one in which learning by heart is easy and, on the whole, pleasurable; whereas reasoning is difficult and, on the whole, little relished. At this age, one readily memorizes the shapes and appearances of things; one likes to recite the number-plates of cars; one rejoices in the chanting of rhymes and the rumble and thunder of unintelligible polysyllables; one enjoys the mere accumulation of things. The Pert age, which follows upon this (and, naturally, overlaps it to some extent), is characterized by contradicting, answering back, liking to "catch people out" (especially one's elders); and by the propounding of conundrums. Its nuisance-value is extremely high. It usually sets in about the Fourth Form. The Poetic age is popularly known as the "difficult" age. It is self-centered; it yearns to express itself; it rather specializes in being misunderstood; it is restless and tries to achieve independence; and, with good luck and good guidance, it should show the beginnings of creativeness; a reaching out towards a synthesis of what it already knows, and a deliberate eagerness to know and do some one thing in preference to all others. Now it seems to me that the layout of the Trivium adapts itself with a singular appropriateness to these three ages: Grammar to the Poll-Parrot, Dialectic to the Pert, and Rhetoric to the Poetic age. Let us begin, then, with Grammar. This, in practice, means the grammar of some language in particular; and it must be an inflected language. The grammatical structure of an uninflected language is far too analytical to be tackled by any one without previous practice in Dialectic. Moreover, the inflected languages interpret the uninflected, whereas the uninflected are of little use in interpreting the inflected. I will say at once, quite firmly, that the best grounding for education is the Latin grammar. I say this, not because Latin is traditional and mediaeval, but simply because even a rudimentary knowledge of Latin cuts down the labor and pains of learning almost any other subject by at least fifty percent. It is the key to the vocabulary and structure of all the Teutonic languages, as well as to the technical vocabulary of all the sciences and to the literature of the entire Mediterranean civilization, together with all its historical documents. Those whose pedantic preference for a living language persuades them to deprive their pupils of all these advantages might substitute Russian, whose grammar is still more primitive. Russian is, of course, helpful with the other Slav dialects. There is something also to be said for Classical Greek. But my own choice is Latin. Having thus pleased the Classicists among you, I will proceed to horrify them by adding that I do not think it either wise or necessary to cramp the ordinary pupil upon the Procrustean bed of the Augustan Age, with its highly elaborate and artificial verse forms and oratory. Post-classical and mediaeval Latin, which was a living language right down to the end of the Renaissance, is easier and in some ways livelier; a study of it helps to dispel the widespread notion that learning and literature came to a full stop when Christ was born and only woke up again at the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Latin should be begun as early as possible--at a time when inflected speech seems no more astonishing than any other phenomenon in an astonishing world; and when the chanting of "Amo, amas, amat" is as ritually agreeable to the feelings as the chanting of "eeny, meeny, miney, moe." During this age we must, of course, exercise the mind on other things besides Latin grammar. Observation and memory are the faculties most lively at this period; and if we are to learn a contemporary foreign language we should begin now, before the facial and mental muscles become rebellious to strange intonations. Spoken French or German can be practiced alongside the grammatical discipline of the Latin. In English, meanwhile, verse and prose can be learned by heart, and the pupil's memory should be stored with stories of every kind--classical myth, European legend, and so forth. I do not think that the classical stories and masterpieces of ancient literature should be made the vile bodies on which to practice the techniques of Grammar--that was a fault of mediaeval education which we need not perpetuate. The stories can be enjoyed and remembered in English, and related to their origin at a subsequent stage. Recitation aloud should be practiced, individually or in chorus; for we must not forget that we are laying the groundwork for Disputation and Rhetoric. The grammar of History should consist, I think, of dates, events, anecdotes, and personalities. A set of dates to which one can peg all later historical knowledge is of enormous help later on in establishing the perspective of history. It does not greatly matter which dates: those of the Kings of England will do very nicely, provided that they are accompanied by pictures of costumes, architecture, and other everyday things, so that the mere mention of a date calls up a very strong visual presentment of the whole period. Geography will similarly be presented in its factual aspect, with maps, natural features, and visual presentment of customs, costumes, flora, fauna, and so on; and I believe myself that the discredited and old-fashioned memorizing of a few capitol cities, rivers, mountain ranges, etc., does no harm. Stamp collecting may be encouraged. Science, in the Poll-Parrot period, arranges itself naturally and easily around collections--the identifying and naming of specimens and, in general, the kind of thing that used to be called "natural philosophy." To know the name and properties of things is, at this age, a satisfaction in itself; to recognize a devil's coach-horse at sight, and assure one's foolish elders, that, in spite of its appearance, it does not sting; to be able to pick out Cassiopeia and the Pleiades, and perhaps even to know who Cassiopeia and the Pleiades were; to be aware that a whale is not a fish, and a bat not a bird--all these things give a pleasant sensation of superiority; while to know a ring snake from an adder or a poisonous from an edible toadstool is a kind of knowledge that also has practical value. The grammar of Mathematics begins, of course, with the multiplication table, which, if not learnt now, will never be learnt with pleasure; and with the recognition of geometrical shapes and the grouping of numbers. These exercises lead naturally to the doing of simple sums in arithmetic. More complicated mathematical processes may, and perhaps should, be postponed, for the reasons which will presently appear. So far (except, of course, for the Latin), our curriculum contains nothing that departs very far from common practice. The difference will be felt rather in the attitude of the teachers, who must look upon all these activities less as "subjects" in themselves than as a gathering-together of material for use in the next part of the Trivium. What that material is, is only of secondary importance; but it is as well that anything and everything which can be usefully committed to memory should be memorized at this period, whether it is immediately intelligible or not. The modern tendency is to try and force rational explanations on a child's mind at too early an age. Intelligent questions, spontaneously asked, should, of course, receive an immediate and rational answer; but it is a great mistake to suppose that a child cannot readily enjoy and remember things that are beyond his power to analyze--particularly if those things have a strong imaginative appeal (as, for example, "Kubla Kahn"), an attractive jingle (like some of the memory-rhymes for Latin genders), or an abundance of rich, resounding polysyllables (like the Quicunque vult). This reminds me of the grammar of Theology. I shall add it to the curriculum, because theology is the mistress-science without which the whole educational structure will necessarily lack its final synthesis. Those who disagree about this will remain content to leave their pupil's education still full of loose ends. This will matter rather less than it might, since by the time that the tools of learning have been forged the student will be able to tackle theology for himself, and will probably insist upon doing so and making sense of it. Still, it is as well to have this matter also handy and ready for the reason to work upon. At the grammatical age, therefore, we should become acquainted with the story of God and Man in outline--i.e., the Old and New testaments presented as parts of a single narrative of Creation, Rebellion, and Redemption--and also with the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. At this early stage, it does not matter nearly so much that these things should be fully understood as that they should be known and remembered. It is difficult to say at what age, precisely, we should pass from the first to the second part of the Trivium. Generally speaking, the answer is: so soon as the pupil shows himself disposed to pertness and interminable argument. For as, in the first part, the master faculties are Observation and Memory, so, in the second, the master faculty is the Discursive Reason. In the first, the exercise to which the rest of the material was, as it were, keyed, was the Latin grammar; in the second, the key- exercise will be Formal Logic. It is here that our curriculum shows its first sharp divergence from modern standards. The disrepute into which Formal Logic has fallen is entirely unjustified; and its neglect is the root cause of nearly all those disquieting symptoms which we have noted in the modern intellectual constitution. Logic has been discredited, partly because we have come to suppose that we are conditioned almost entirely by the intuitive and the unconscious. There is no time to argue whether this is true; I will simply observe that to neglect the proper training of the reason is the best possible way to make it true. Another cause for the disfavor into which Logic has fallen is the belief that it is entirely based upon universal assumptions that are either unprovable or tautological. This is not true. Not all universal propositions are of this kind. But even if they were, it would make no difference, since every syllogism whose major premise is in the form "All A is B" can be recast in hypothetical form. Logic is the art of arguing correctly: "If A, then B." The method is not invalidated by the hypothetical nature of A. Indeed, the practical utility of Formal Logic today lies not so much in the establishment of positive conclusions as in the prompt detection and exposure of invalid inference. Let us now quickly review our material and see how it is to be related to Dialectic. On the Language side, we shall now have our vocabulary and morphology at our fingertips; henceforward we can concentrate on syntax and analysis (i.e., the logical construction of speech) and the history of language (i.e., how we came to arrange our speech as we do in order to convey our thoughts). Our Reading will proceed from narrative and lyric to essays, argument and criticism, and the pupil will learn to try his own hand at writing this kind of thing. Many lessons--on whatever subject--will take the form of debates; and the place of individual or choral recitation will be taken by dramatic performances, with special attention to plays in which an argument is stated in dramatic form. Mathematics--algebra, geometry, and the more advanced kinds of arithmetic--will now enter into the syllabus and take its place as what it really is: not a separate "subject" but a sub- department of Logic. It is neither more nor less than the rule of the syllogism in its particular application to number and measurement, and should be taught as such, instead of being, for some, a dark mystery, and, for others, a special revelation, neither illuminating nor illuminated by any other part of knowledge. History, aided by a simple system of ethics derived from the grammar of theology, will provide much suitable material for discussion: Was the behavior of this statesman justified? What was the effect of such an enactment? What are the arguments for and against this or that form of government? We shall thus get an introduction to constitutional history--a subject meaningless to the young child, but of absorbing interest to those who are prepared to argue and debate. Theology itself will furnish material for argument about conduct and morals; and should have its scope extended by a simplified course of dogmatic theology (i.e., the rational structure of Christian thought), clarifying the relations between the dogma and the ethics, and lending itself to that application of ethical principles in particular instances which is properly called casuistry. Geography and the Sciences will likewise provide material for Dialectic. But above all, we must not neglect the material which is so abundant in the pupils' own daily life. There is a delightful passage in Leslie Paul's "The Living Hedge" which tells how a number of small boys enjoyed themselves for days arguing about an extraordinary shower of rain which had fallen in their town--a shower so localized that it left one half of the main street wet and the other dry. Could one, they argued, properly say that it had rained that day on or over the town or only in the town? How many drops of water were required to constitute rain? And so on. Argument about this led on to a host of similar problems about rest and motion, sleep and waking, est and non est, and the infinitesimal division of time. The whole passage is an admirable example of the spontaneous development of the ratiocinative faculty and the natural and proper thirst of the awakening reason for the definition of terms and exactness of statement. All events are food for such an appetite. An umpire's decision; the degree to which one may transgress the spirit of a regulation without being trapped by the letter: on such questions as these, children are born casuists, and their natural propensity only needs to be developed and trained--and especially, brought into an intelligible relationship with the events in the grown-up world. The newspapers are full of good material for such exercises: legal decisions, on the one hand, in cases where the cause at issue is not too abstruse; on the other, fallacious reasoning and muddleheaded arguments, with which the correspondence columns of certain papers one could name are abundantly stocked. Wherever the matter for Dialectic is found, it is, of course, highly important that attention should be focused upon the beauty and economy of a fine demonstration or a well-turned argument, lest veneration should wholly die. Criticism must not be merely destructive; though at the same time both teacher and pupils must be ready to detect fallacy, slipshod reasoning, ambiguity, irrelevance, and redundancy, and to pounce upon them like rats. This is the moment when precis-writing may be usefully undertaken; together with such exercises as the writing of an essay, and the reduction of it, when written, by 25 or 50 percent. It will, doubtless, be objected that to encourage young persons at the Pert age to browbeat, correct, and argue with their elders will render them perfectly intolerable. My answer is that children of that age are intolerable anyhow; and that their natural argumentativeness may just as well be canalized to good purpose as allowed to run away into the sands. It may, indeed, be rather less obtrusive at home if it is disciplined in school; and anyhow, elders who have abandoned the wholesome principle that children should be seen and not heard have no one to blame but themselves. Once again, the contents of the syllabus at this stage may be anything you like. The "subjects" supply material; but they are all to be regarded as mere grist for the mental mill to work upon. The pupils should be encouraged to go and forage for their own information, and so guided towards the proper use of libraries and books for reference, and shown how to tell which sources are authoritative and which are not. Towards the close of this stage, the pupils will probably be beginning to discover for themselves that their knowledge and experience are insufficient, and that their trained intelligences need a great deal more material to chew upon. The imagination-- usually dormant during the Pert age--will reawaken, and prompt them to suspect the limitations of logic and reason. This means that they are passing into the Poetic age and are ready to embark on the study of Rhetoric. The doors of the storehouse of knowledge should now be thrown open for them to browse about as they will. The things once learned by rote will be seen in new contexts; the things once coldly analyzed can now be brought together to form a new synthesis; here and there a sudden insight will bring about that most exciting of all discoveries: the realization that truism is true. It is difficult to map out any general syllabus for the study of Rhetoric: a certain freedom is demanded. In literature, appreciation should be again allowed to take the lead over destructive criticism; and self-expression in writing can go forward, with its tools now sharpened to cut clean and observe proportion. Any child who already shows a disposition to specialize should be given his head: for, when the use of the tools has been well and truly learned, it is available for any study whatever. It would be well, I think, that each pupil should learn to do one, or two, subjects really well, while taking a few classes in subsidiary subjects so as to keep his mind open to the inter-relations of all knowledge. Indeed, at this stage, our difficulty will be to keep "subjects" apart; for Dialectic will have shown all branches of learning to be inter-related, so Rhetoric will tend to show that all knowledge is one. To show this, and show why it is so, is pre-eminently the task of the mistress science. But whether theology is studied or not, we should at least insist that children who seem inclined to specialize on the mathematical and scientific side should be obliged to attend some lessons in the humanities and vice versa. At this stage, also, the Latin grammar, having done its work, may be dropped for those who prefer to carry on their language studies on the modern side; while those who are likely never to have any great use or aptitude for mathematics might also be allowed to rest, more or less, upon their oars. Generally speaking, whatsoever is mere apparatus may now be allowed to fall into the background, while the trained mind is gradually prepared for specialization in the "subjects" which, when the Trivium is completed, it should be perfectly will equipped to tackle on its own. The final synthesis of the Trivium--the presentation and public defense of the thesis--should be restored in some form; perhaps as a kind of "leaving examination" during the last term at school. The scope of Rhetoric depends also on whether the pupil is to be turned out into the world at the age of 16 or whether he is to proceed to the university. Since, really, Rhetoric should be taken at about 14, the first category of pupil should study Grammar from about 9 to 11, and Dialectic from 12 to 14; his last two school years would then be devoted to Rhetoric, which, in this case, would be of a fairly specialized and vocational kind, suiting him to enter immediately upon some practical career. A pupil of the second category would finish his Dialectical course in his preparatory school, and take Rhetoric during his first two years at his public school. At 16, he would be ready to start upon those "subjects" which are proposed for his later study at the university: and this part of his education will correspond to the mediaeval Quadrivium. What this amounts to is that the ordinary pupil, whose formal education ends at 16, will take the Trivium only; whereas scholars will take both the Trivium and the Quadrivium. Is the Trivium, then, a sufficient education for life? Properly taught, I believe that it should be. At the end of the Dialectic, the children will probably seem to be far behind their coevals brought up on old-fashioned "modern" methods, so far as detailed knowledge of specific subjects is concerned. But after the age of 14 they should be able to overhaul the others hand over fist. Indeed, I am not at all sure that a pupil thoroughly proficient in the Trivium would not be fit to proceed immediately to the university at the age of 16, thus proving himself the equal of his mediaeval counterpart, whose precocity astonished us at the beginning of this discussion. This, to be sure, would make hay of the English public-school system, and disconcert the universities very much. It would, for example, make quite a different thing of the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. But I am not here to consider the feelings of academic bodies: I am concerned only with the proper training of the mind to encounter and deal with the formidable mass of undigested problems presented to it by the modern world. For the tools of learning are the same, in any and every subject; and the person who knows how to use them will, at any age, get the mastery of a new subject in half the time and with a quarter of the effort expended by the person who has not the tools at his command. To learn six subjects without remembering how they were learnt does nothing to ease the approach to a seventh; to have learnt and remembered the art of learning makes the approach to every subject an open door. Before concluding these necessarily very sketchy suggestions, I ought to say why I think it necessary, in these days, to go back to a discipline which we had discarded. The truth is that for the last three hundred years or so we have been living upon our educational capital. The post-Renaissance world, bewildered and excited by the profusion of new "subjects" offered to it, broke away from the old discipline (which had, indeed, become sadly dull and stereotyped in its practical application) and imagined that henceforward it could, as it were, disport itself happily in its new and extended Quadrivium without passing through the Trivium. But the Scholastic tradition, though broken and maimed, still lingered in the public schools and universities: Milton, however much he protested against it, was formed by it--the debate of the Fallen Angels and the disputation of Abdiel with Satan have the tool-marks of the Schools upon them, and might, incidentally, profitably figure as set passages for our Dialectical studies. Right down to the nineteenth century, our public affairs were mostly managed, and our books and journals were for the most part written, by people brought up in homes, and trained in places, where that tradition was still alive in the memory and almost in the blood. Just so, many people today who are atheist or agnostic in religion, are governed in their conduct by a code of Christian ethics which is so rooted that it never occurs to them to question it. But one cannot live on capital forever. However firmly a tradition is rooted, if it is never watered, though it dies hard, yet in the end it dies. And today a great number--perhaps the majority--of the men and women who handle our affairs, write our books and our newspapers, carry out our research, present our plays and our films, speak from our platforms and pulpits--yes, and who educate our young people--have never, even in a lingering traditional memory, undergone the Scholastic discipline. Less and less do the children who come to be educated bring any of that tradition with them. We have lost the tools of learning--the axe and the wedge, the hammer and the saw, the chisel and the plane-- that were so adaptable to all tasks. Instead of them, we have merely a set of complicated jigs, each of which will do but one task and no more, and in using which eye and hand receive no training, so that no man ever sees the work as a whole or "looks to the end of the work." What use is it to pile task on task and prolong the days of labor, if at the close the chief object is left unattained? It is not the fault of the teachers--they work only too hard already. The combined folly of a civilization that has forgotten its own roots is forcing them to shore up the tottering weight of an educational structure that is built upon sand. They are doing for their pupils the work which the pupils themselves ought to do. For the sole true end of education is simply this: to teach men how to learn for themselves; and whatever instruction fails to do this is effort spent in vain. Paul M. Bechtel writes that Dorothy Leigh Sayers (1893-1967) briefly entered on a teaching career after graduating from Oxford. She published a long and popular series of detective novels, translated the "Divine Comedy," wrote a series of radio plays, and a defense of Christian belief. During World War II, she lived in Oxford, and was a member of the group that included C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Owen Barfield. By nature and preference, she was a scholar and an expert on the Middle Ages. In this essay, Miss Sayers suggests that we presently teach our children everything but how to learn. She proposes that we adopt a suitably modified version of the medieval scholastic curriculum for methodological reasons. "The Lost Tools of Learning" was first presented by Miss Sayers at Oxford in 1947.