But during the first stage of childhood, roughly up to the age of six or even later, no child needs to learn to read or write, taking “need” in the psychological sense: that period is concerned with laying the foundation of real things and with learning surroundings;—­any records of experience that come to a child can come as they did to his earliest forefathers—­by word of mouth.  When he wants to read stories for himself, or write his own letters, then he is impelled by a sufficiently strong aim or incentive to make concentration possible, without resorting to any of the fantastic devices and apparatus so dear to so many teachers.  Indeed it is safe to say of many of these devices that they prove the fact that children are not ready for reading.

When a child is ready to read and write the process need not be a long one:  by wise delay many tedious hours are saved, tedious to both teacher and children; they have already learnt to talk in those precious hours, to discriminate sounds as part of language training, but without any resort to symbols—­merely as something natural.  It has been amply proved that if a child is not prematurely forced into reading he can do as much in one year as he would have done in three, under more strained conditions.

With regard to methods a great deal has been written on the subject; it is pretty safe to leave a teacher to choose her own—­for much of the elaboration is unnecessary if reading is rightly delayed, and if a child can read reasonably well at seven and a half there can be no grounds for complaint.  If his phonetic training has been good in the earlier stages of language, then this may be combined with the “look and say” method, or method of reading by whole words.  The “cat on the mat” type of book is disappearing, and its place is being taken by books where the subject matter is interesting and suitable to the child’s age; but as in other subjects the book chosen should be considered in reference to the child’s surroundings, either to amplify or to extend.

Writing is, in the first instance, a part of reading:  when words are being learnt they must be written, or in the earliest stages printed, but only those interesting to the children and written for some definite purpose should be selected:  a great aid to spelling is transcription, and children are always willing to copy something they like, such as a verse of poetry, or their name and address.  As in arithmetic and in handwork, they will come to recognise the need for practice, and be willing to undergo such exercise for the sake of improvement, as well as for the pleasure in the activity—­which actual writing gives to some children.

We must be quite clear about relative values.  Reading and writing are necessities, and the means of opening up to us things of great value; but the art of acquiring them is of little intrinsic value, and the recognition of the need is not an early one; nothing is gained by beginning too early, and much valuable time is taken from other activities, notably language.  The incentive should be the need that the child feels, and when this is evident time and pains should be given to the subject so that it maybe quickly acquired.  But the art of reading is no test of intelligence, and the art of writing is no test of original skill. The claims of the upper departments must be resisted.