First of all, Fear.  Fear of punishment has always been the great weapon of the teacher, and will always, of course, retain some place in the conditions of the schoolroom.  The subject is so familiar that nothing more need be said about it.

The same is true of Love, and the instinctive desire to please those whom we love.  The teacher who succeeds in getting herself loved by the pupils will obtain results which one of a more forbidding temperament finds it impossible to secure.

Next, a word might be said about Curiosity.  This is perhaps a rather poor term by which to designate the impulse toward better cognition in its full extent; but you will readily understand what I mean.  Novelties in the way of sensible objects, especially if their sensational quality is bright, vivid, startling, invariably arrest the attention of the young and hold it until the desire to know more about the object is assuaged.  In its higher, more intellectual form, the impulse toward completer knowledge takes the character of scientific or philosophic curiosity.  In both its sensational and its intellectual form the instinct is more vivacious during childhood and youth than in after life.  Young children are possessed by curiosity about every new impression that assails them.  It would be quite impossible for a young child to listen to a lecture for more than a few minutes, as you are now listening to me.  The outside sights and sounds would inevitably carry his attention off.  And, for most people in middle life, the sort of intellectual effort required of the average schoolboy in mastering his Greek or Latin lesson, his algebra or physics, would be out of the question.  The middle-aged citizen attends exclusively to the routine details of his business; and new truths, especially when they require involved trains of close reasoning, are no longer within the scope of his capacity.

The sensational curiosity of childhood is appealed to more particularly by certain determinate kinds of objects.  Material things, things that move, living things, human actions and accounts of human action, will win the attention better than anything that is more abstract.  Here again comes in the advantage of the object-teaching and manual training methods.  The pupil’s attention is spontaneously held by any problem that involves the presentation of a new material object or of an activity on any one’s part.  The teacher’s earliest appeals, therefore, must be through objects shown or acts performed or described.  Theoretic curiosity, curiosity about the rational relations between things, can hardly be said to awake at all until adolescence is reached.  The sporadic metaphysical inquiries of children as to who made God, and why they have five fingers, need hardly be counted here.  But, when the theoretic instinct is once alive in the pupil, an entirely new order of pedagogic relations begins for him.  Reasons, causes, abstract conceptions,