On Popular Education Page #11

"On Popular Education" is a thought-provoking essay by Leo Tolstoy in which the renowned Russian author explores the role of education in shaping individuals and society. Written in 1862, Tolstoy critiques the existing educational systems of his time, advocating for a more accessible, practical, and moral approach to learning. He emphasizes the importance of fostering critical thinking and moral values over rote memorization, urging educators to nurture the innate curiosity of learners. Tolstoy's reflections serve as a powerful call for a more humane and equitable educational framework that empowers individuals to contribute meaningfully to society.

• Essay

								

translated from the German, or from the prayer-book? In the solution of
this question I was aided by a certain pedagogical tact, with which I am
gifted, and especially by that close and impassioned relation in which I
stood to the matter.

When I entered at once into the closest direct relations with those
forty tiny peasants that formed my school (I call them tiny peasants
because I found in them the same characteristics of perspicacity, the
same immense store of information from practical life, of jocularity,
simplicity, and loathing for everything false, which distinguish the
Russian peasant), when I saw that susceptibility, that readiness to
acquire the information which they needed, I felt at once that the
antiquated church method of instruction had outlived its usefulness and
was not good for them. I began to experiment on other proposed methods
of instruction; but, because compulsion in education, both by my
conviction and by my character, are repulsive to me, I did not exercise
any pressure, and, the moment I noticed that something was not readily
received, I did not compel them, and looked for something else. From
these experiments it appeared to me and to those teachers who instructed
with me at Yásnaya Polyána and in other schools on the same principle of
freedom, that nearly everything which in the pedagogical world was
written about schools was separated by an immeasurable abyss from
reality, and that many of the proposed methods, such as object-lessons,
the natural sciences, the sound method, and others, called forth
contempt and ridicule, and were not accepted by the pupils. We began to
look for those contents and those methods which were readily taken up by
the pupils, and struck that which forms my method of instruction.

But this method stood in a line with all other methods, and the question
of why it was better than the rest remained as unsolved as before.
Consequently, the question of what the criterion was as to what to teach
and how to teach received an even greater meaning for me; only by
solving it could I be convinced that what I taught was neither injurious
nor useless. This question both then and now has appeared to me as a
corner-stone of the whole pedagogy, and to the solution of this question
I devoted the publication of the pedagogical periodical Yásnaya
Polyána. In several articles (I do not renounce anything I then said) I
tried to put the question in all its significance and to solve it as
much as I could. At that time I found no sympathy in all the pedagogical
literature, not even any contradiction, but the most complete
indifference to the question which I put. There were some attacks on
certain details and trifles, but the question itself evidently did not
interest any one. I was young then, and that indifference grieved me. I
did not understand that with my question, "How do you know what to teach
and how to teach?" I was like a man who, let us say, in a gathering of
Turkish pashas discussing the question in what manner they may collect
the greatest revenue from the people, should propose to them the
following: "Gentlemen, in order to know how much revenue to collect from
each, we must first analyze the question on what your right to exact
that revenue is based." Obviously all the pashas would continue their
discussion of the measures of extortion, and would reply only with
silence to his irrelevant question. But the question cannot be
circumvented. Fifteen years ago no attention was paid to it, and the
pedagogues of every school, convinced that everybody else was talking to
the wind and that they were right, most calmly prescribed their laws,
basing their principles on philosophies of a very doubtful character,
which they used as a substratum for their wee little theories.

And yet, this question is not quite so difficult if we only renounce
completely all preconceived notions. I have tried to elucidate and solve
this question, and, without repeating those proofs, which he who wishes
may read in the article, I will enunciate the results to which I was
led. "The only criterion of pedagogy is freedom, the only
method--experience." After fifteen years I have not changed my opinion
one hair's breadth; but I consider it necessary to define with greater
precision what I understand by these words, not only in respect to
education in general, but also in respect to the particular question of
popular education in a primary school. One hundred years ago the
question what to teach and how to teach could have had no place either
in Europe or with us. Education was inseparably connected with religion.
To learn reading meant to learn Holy Writ. In the Mohammedan countries
this relation of the rudiments and religion still persists in its full
force. To learn means to learn the Koran, and, therefore, Arabic. But
the moment religion ceased to be the criterion of what ought to be
taught, and the school became independent of it, this question had to
arise. But it did not arise because the school was not suddenly freed
from its dependence on religion, but by imperceptible steps. Now it is
accepted by everybody that religion cannot serve as the contents, nor as
an indication of the method of education, and that education has
different demands for its basis. In what do these demands consist? On
what are they based? In order that these principles should be
incontrovertible, it is necessary either that they be proved
philosophically, incontrovertibly, or that, at least, all educated
people should be agreed on them. But is it so? There can be no doubt
whatsoever about this, that in philosophy have not been found those
principles on which could be built up the decision of what ought to be
taught, the more so since the matter itself is not an abstract, but a
practical affair, which depends on an endless number of vital
conditions. Still less can these principles be discovered in the common
consent of all men who busy themselves with this matter, in the consent
which we may take as a practical foundation, as an expression of the
universal common sense. Not only in matters of popular, but even of
higher education do we see a complete diversity of opinions among the
best representatives of education, as, for example, in the question of
classicism and realism. And yet, in spite of the absence of any
foundations, we see education proceeding on its own path and on the
whole being guided by only one principle, namely by freedom. There exist
side by side the classical and the real school, each of which is
prepared to regard itself as the only natural school, and both satisfy
some want, for parents send their children to either.

In the popular school the right to determine what the children shall
learn, no matter from what standpoint we may consider this question,
belongs just as much to the masses, that is, either to the pupils

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