s are interested in education."

I am reminded of Socrates' shrewd parody of a supposed speech of
Euthydemus who, totally ignorant of statecraft, desired election to an
important position in the government of the city of Athens. It is
suggestive here: "I, O man of Athens, have never learned the medical art
from any one, nor have been desirous that any physician should be my
instructor; for I have constantly been on my guard, not only against
learning anything of the art from any one, but even against appearing to
have learned anything; nevertheless confer on me this medical
appointment, for I will endeavor to learn by making experiments upon
you." Comment is unnecessary.

There are three kinds of knowledge that every teacher should possess,
that every successful teacher does possess: first, knowledge of the
subject matter with which he deals; second, knowledge of the human mind
which he is trying to stimulate; and third, knowledge of the way to
bring these two together in a helpful manner. Of the three, I am afraid
that university instructors have, in the main, but the first. At any
rate, all they know of the other two is of an empirical character and
what they have picked up incidentally. There are exceptions, to be sure.
Every worthy institution has them, striking exceptions, too, some of
them are. A few of our older men have become good teachers thru practise
and experiment, and an occasional young man now comes with professional
preparation. But yet, as in so many other matters, the exceptions merely
prove the rule.

Thus equipt, or rather with this serious lack of equipment, the young
university instructor begins his work. If he is, to use the words of the
university president just quoted, "a raw doctor fresh from three years
of graduate work," he probably begins by copying the methods of
procedure of his own recent instructors. He tries to set these immature
boys and girls at research problems and, in classroom, tries to impart
information by the lecture method.

How well I remember such an instance in my own freshman days. I fell
into the hands of such an instructor in Greek. We were reading that most
charming of Greek stories--_The Odyssey_. Textual criticism was this
man's hobby, and we were put to work trying to compare texts, to delve
into the intricacies of form and structure--trying to improve upon
Homer! Such information as we could not find he gave us, in the formal
lecture, day after day. But when we