Texts:1968 Architecture and Pedagogy - Revision history

Robbie at 16:30, 19 November 2024

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	<p>Designs for classrooms not only tell us much about the didactic means that were used therein; they also reveal the essence of the pedagogy that directed the educative efforts of past times. As we shall see, a good architect not only designs a building to accommodate the external behavioral pattern of those who will inhabit it; he further makes it harmonious with the intellectual, aesthetic, and moral aspirations that affect the conduct of those who will live within its walls. Thus, in addition to providing a suitable space for the activities of instruction, a well-wrought classroom will be in keeping with the educative aims that brought the teacher and students to that particular place. The buildings of bygone times stand as monuments to the purposes of our predecessors. In what follows, we shall seek to extract an understanding of the old-time pedagogy by examining one of the better contributions to the architecture of the old-time school.</p>		<p>Designs for classrooms not only tell us much about the didactic means that were used therein; they also reveal the essence of the pedagogy that directed the educative efforts of past times. As we shall see, a good architect not only designs a building to accommodate the external behavioral pattern of those who will inhabit it; he further makes it harmonious with the intellectual, aesthetic, and moral aspirations that affect the conduct of those who will live within its walls. Thus, in addition to providing a suitable space for the activities of instruction, a well-wrought classroom will be in keeping with the educative aims that brought the teacher and students to that particular place. The buildings of bygone times stand as monuments to the purposes of our predecessors. In what follows, we shall seek to extract an understanding of the old-time pedagogy by examining one of the better contributions to the architecture of the old-time school.</p>

	<p><i>School Architecture, or Contributions to the Improvements of School-Houses in the United States</i> was an ungainly work. It had grown by accretion, beginning in 1838 with the text of an address on the disgraceful condition of the average schoolhouse, and becoming by 1842 a major manual on the art of building and equipping schools. To the heterogeneous committees that planned local schools, and to the citizens who paid for their construction, Barnard offered much improved patterns for facades, floors, yards, mechanical equipment, and furniture. In all his works, Barnard excelled as a compiler; and into this one he crammed available statistics and reports on the condition of existing school buildings, representative plans and elevations for various exemplary schoolhouses, designs for effective ventilating and heating systems, and the better catalogues and descriptions of instructional aids. All this he “unified” with a detailed index and an occasional editorial comment. But as for any art in his presentation, alas — “it was the wish of the author to revise that portion of the work in which the general principles of school architecture are discussed, and to arrange the various plans and descriptions of improvements in the construction, internal arrangement, and furniture of schoolhouses under appropriate heads. But his time is too much absorbed in the immediate and pressing duties of his office, to admit of his doing anything beyond a general superintendence of the publication, and the preparation of a few additional plans. . . .”<ref><i>School Architecture,</i> p. 6. Barnard’s reputation as a great orator suggests that had he had the time he could have written much better than he did.</ref>p></p>		<p><i>School Architecture, or Contributions to the Improvements of School-Houses in the United States</i> was an ungainly work. It had grown by accretion, beginning in 1838 with the text of an address on the disgraceful condition of the average schoolhouse, and becoming by 1842 a major manual on the art of building and equipping schools. To the heterogeneous committees that planned local schools, and to the citizens who paid for their construction, Barnard offered much improved patterns for facades, floors, yards, mechanical equipment, and furniture. In all his works, Barnard excelled as a compiler; and into this one he crammed available statistics and reports on the condition of existing school buildings, representative plans and elevations for various exemplary schoolhouses, designs for effective ventilating and heating systems, and the better catalogues and descriptions of instructional aids. All this he “unified” with a detailed index and an occasional editorial comment. But as for any art in his presentation, alas — “it was the wish of the author to revise that portion of the work in which the general principles of school architecture are discussed, and to arrange the various plans and descriptions of improvements in the construction, internal arrangement, and furniture of schoolhouses under appropriate heads. But his time is too much absorbed in the immediate and pressing duties of his office, to admit of his doing anything beyond a general superintendence of the publication, and the preparation of a few additional plans. . . .”<ref><i>School Architecture,</i> p. 6. Barnard’s reputation as a great orator suggests that had he had the time he could have written much better than he did.</ref></p>

	<p>In form, <i>School Architecture</i> was a pattern book, which was not an unusual layout for a building manual published in the 1840’s. At that time such publications on architecture became popular, and they continued to be the companion of prospective builders until the end of the century.<ref>On the use of pattern books in school building see “The Use of Architectural Handbooks in the Design of Schoolhouses from 1840 to 1860,” by Barbara Wriston, <i>Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians,</i> Vol. 22 (1963), 155-60. Unfortunately, Wriston pays too little attention to the pedagogical significance of the various designs she surveys..</ref> In Barnard’s book on schoolhouses, in Andrew Jackson Downing’s treatise on landscape gardening, and in Alexander Jackson Davis’s guide to rural residences, the authors recognized that the building needs of Americans differed from those of their contemporaries in England and Europe.<ref>See Andrew Jackson Downing, <i>A Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America. . . . with Remarks on Rural Architecture</i> (New York and London: Wiley and Putnam, 1841); and Alexander Jackson Davis, <i>Rural Residences. . . . Published Under the Supervision of Several Gentlemen, with a View to the Improvement of American Country Architectur</i> (New York, 1837).</ref> Americans needed architectural models that had been designed with local materials and conditions in mind. As buyers of clothing patterns today, the readers of these works could use the designs either without alteration or with adjustments to make them fit special needs. Gone were the days of the once popular builder’s guides, in which only structural and decorative details were illustrated. With the older guides the hapless reader, often a man who was inexperienced in building, had been forced to ponder alone how classical orders, designed to be executed in stone, might serve to stable his horses or grace his wooden outhouse.<ref>Typical of the old builder’s guides is <i>Asher Benjamin, The Builder’s Guide, or Complete System of Architecture</i> (Boston: Perkins and Marvin, 1839); and Owen Biddle, <i>The Young Carpenter’s Assistant</i> (Philadelphia: Benjamin Johnson, 1805).</ref> In the new pattern books whole buildings, rather than details, were illustrated and the readers were shown how historical styles might form a liveable rural residence or an efficient school. Authors of these books created building types and forms that have no historical counterparts.<ref>For instance, see the interesting note by Joseph Masheck, “The Meaning of Town and Davis’ Octagonal Schoolhouse Design,” <i>Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians,</i> Vol. 25 (1966), 302-4, in which Masheck tries to show the possible origin in Froebelian pedagogy of an original schoolhouse design.</ref></p>		<p>In form, <i>School Architecture</i> was a pattern book, which was not an unusual layout for a building manual published in the 1840’s. At that time such publications on architecture became popular, and they continued to be the companion of prospective builders until the end of the century.<ref>On the use of pattern books in school building see “The Use of Architectural Handbooks in the Design of Schoolhouses from 1840 to 1860,” by Barbara Wriston, <i>Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians,</i> Vol. 22 (1963), 155-60. Unfortunately, Wriston pays too little attention to the pedagogical significance of the various designs she surveys..</ref> In Barnard’s book on schoolhouses, in Andrew Jackson Downing’s treatise on landscape gardening, and in Alexander Jackson Davis’s guide to rural residences, the authors recognized that the building needs of Americans differed from those of their contemporaries in England and Europe.<ref>See Andrew Jackson Downing, <i>A Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America. . . . with Remarks on Rural Architecture</i> (New York and London: Wiley and Putnam, 1841); and Alexander Jackson Davis, <i>Rural Residences. . . . Published Under the Supervision of Several Gentlemen, with a View to the Improvement of American Country Architectur</i> (New York, 1837).</ref> Americans needed architectural models that had been designed with local materials and conditions in mind. As buyers of clothing patterns today, the readers of these works could use the designs either without alteration or with adjustments to make them fit special needs. Gone were the days of the once popular builder’s guides, in which only structural and decorative details were illustrated. With the older guides the hapless reader, often a man who was inexperienced in building, had been forced to ponder alone how classical orders, designed to be executed in stone, might serve to stable his horses or grace his wooden outhouse.<ref>Typical of the old builder’s guides is <i>Asher Benjamin, The Builder’s Guide, or Complete System of Architecture</i> (Boston: Perkins and Marvin, 1839); and Owen Biddle, <i>The Young Carpenter’s Assistant</i> (Philadelphia: Benjamin Johnson, 1805).</ref> In the new pattern books whole buildings, rather than details, were illustrated and the readers were shown how historical styles might form a liveable rural residence or an efficient school. Authors of these books created building types and forms that have no historical counterparts.<ref>For instance, see the interesting note by Joseph Masheck, “The Meaning of Town and Davis’ Octagonal Schoolhouse Design,” <i>Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians,</i> Vol. 25 (1966), 302-4, in which Masheck tries to show the possible origin in Froebelian pedagogy of an original schoolhouse design.</ref></p>

Robbie at 00:32, 19 November 2024

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	<p>Our task here is to understand precisely why intellectual, aesthetic,and pedagogical values were to be gained in Barnard’s time by improving the physical design and construction of school buildings. In Barnard’s work there was a true architectural significance in his singleminded concern for more rational, efficient schoolhouses. But this singlemindedness has been perpetuated among school builders long after it has ceased to be architecturally justified. Today the human spirit will gain little by further improvements in the efficiency, comfort, and furnishings of the classroom, for the law of diminishing returns has done its work. Yet, since contemporary school designers know how to attend to little else aside from cost and rational efficiency, we are very long on school construction and very short on school architecture.<ref>An exception to this tendency to be concerned with school building rather than school architecture is the work of certain members of Team 10, an international group of architects. In Alison and Peter Smithson’s Secondary School, Hunstanton, England; in Aldo Van Eyck’s Orphanage School, Amsterdam, Holland; and in Vittoriano Vigano’s Institute Marchiondi, Milan, Italy, the prime emphasis is on the spiritual and cultural value of the school. These architects are working to “make places where a man can realize what he wishes to be.” <i>Team 10 Primer,</i> edited by Alison Smithson, p. 1. [No publisher, no date.]</ref> The current categories of school design have been derived from Barnard; and to go beyond Barnard we should go back to Barnard to see why those categories, which are now matters of school building, were once elements of school architecture.</p>		<p>Our task here is to understand precisely why intellectual, aesthetic,and pedagogical values were to be gained in Barnard’s time by improving the physical design and construction of school buildings. In Barnard’s work there was a true architectural significance in his singleminded concern for more rational, efficient schoolhouses. But this singlemindedness has been perpetuated among school builders long after it has ceased to be architecturally justified. Today the human spirit will gain little by further improvements in the efficiency, comfort, and furnishings of the classroom, for the law of diminishing returns has done its work. Yet, since contemporary school designers know how to attend to little else aside from cost and rational efficiency, we are very long on school construction and very short on school architecture.<ref>An exception to this tendency to be concerned with school building rather than school architecture is the work of certain members of Team 10, an international group of architects. In Alison and Peter Smithson’s Secondary School, Hunstanton, England; in Aldo Van Eyck’s Orphanage School, Amsterdam, Holland; and in Vittoriano Vigano’s Institute Marchiondi, Milan, Italy, the prime emphasis is on the spiritual and cultural value of the school. These architects are working to “make places where a man can realize what he wishes to be.” <i>Team 10 Primer,</i> edited by Alison Smithson, p. 1. [No publisher, no date.]</ref> The current categories of school design have been derived from Barnard; and to go beyond Barnard we should go back to Barnard to see why those categories, which are now matters of school building, were once elements of school architecture.</p>

	<p>Architecture puts building in the service of spirit. Hence the significant feature of Barnard’s school architecture was his pedagogy, for it was his pedagogy that gave architectural — that is, spiritual — significance to improved school design. By pedagogy we mean a theory about what man can and should become and about the means by which he can be helped to fulfill his destiny. Thus Wilhelm Dilthey, the profound student of the “human sciences,” wrote that “the blossom and goal of all true philosophy is pedagogy in its widest sense — the formative theory of man.”<ref>Wilhelm Dilthey, <i>Padogogik: Geschichte und Grundhnien des Systems,</i> ~~3rd~~ unveranderte Auflage, <i>Gesammelte Schriften,</i> IX Band (Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner Verlagsgesellschaft, 1961 ),p. 7.</ref> And in his <i>Educational Aphorisms and Suggestions, Ancient and Modern,</i> Henry Barnard spun together a pedagogy by prefacing the section on “Education, Its Nature and Value” with an even longer section on “Man, His Dignity and Destiny.”<ref>Henry Barnard, <i>Educational Aphorisms and Suggestions, Ancient and Modern</i> (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott and Co., 1861), pp. 9-64.</ref> >Hence, to understand Barnard’s architecture we need to go back and savor early nineteenth century conceptions of man; we need to learn how human character was thought to be formed and to discover why, given such a conception of character, rational, efficient school design was spiritually important.</p>		<p>Architecture puts building in the service of spirit. Hence the significant feature of Barnard’s school architecture was his pedagogy, for it was his pedagogy that gave architectural — that is, spiritual — significance to improved school design. By pedagogy we mean a theory about what man can and should become and about the means by which he can be helped to fulfill his destiny. Thus Wilhelm Dilthey, the profound student of the “human sciences,” wrote that “the blossom and goal of all true philosophy is pedagogy in its widest sense — the formative theory of man.”<ref>Wilhelm Dilthey, <i>Padogogik: Geschichte und Grundhnien des Systems,</i> 3. unveranderte Auflage, <i>Gesammelte Schriften,</i> IX Band (Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner Verlagsgesellschaft, 1961 ),p. 7.</ref> And in his <i>Educational Aphorisms and Suggestions, Ancient and Modern,</i> Henry Barnard spun together a pedagogy by prefacing the section on “Education, Its Nature and Value” with an even longer section on “Man, His Dignity and Destiny.”<ref>Henry Barnard, <i>Educational Aphorisms and Suggestions, Ancient and Modern</i> (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott and Co., 1861), pp. 9-64.</ref> >Hence, to understand Barnard’s architecture we need to go back and savor early nineteenth century conceptions of man; we need to learn how human character was thought to be formed and to discover why, given such a conception of character, rational, efficient school design was spiritually important.</p>

	<p>For all that has been written about the nineteenth century apostles of public education, there is little said about their pedagogy. We know in detail the arguments that Horace Mann and Henry Barnard used to gain public support for the common school.<ref>For this campaign see Ellwood P. Cubberley, <i>Public Education in the United States,</i> Revised Edition (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Go., 1947), pp. 120-407; Frank Tracy Carlton, <i>Economic Influences upon Educational Progress in the United States, 1820-1850</i> (New York: Teachers College Press, 1965), esp. pp. 49-140; and Rush Welter, <i>Popular Education and Democratic Thought in America</i> (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), pp. 45-137. Welter, however, does not say much about Barnard’s part.</ref> We know how and why a vigorous effort at public persuasion convinced New Englanders that, as Barnard put it in 1837, “The common school will no longer be regarded as <i>common,</i> because it is cheap, inferior, and attended only by the poor, and those who are indifferent to the education of their children, but common as the light and the air, because its blessings are open to all, and enjoyed by all.”<ref>Quoted by Noah Porter, “Henry Barnard” in <i>The American Journal of Education,</i> Vol. 1 (1856), 662.</ref> We even know that part of the zeal for schoolhouse construction came from the wise realization that communities could be provoked into taking an interest in their schools by embarrassing them into appropriating funds for the construction of a new schoolhouse.<ref>It became a regular feature of the reports of state secretaries and commissioners of education to expose the conditions of schoolhouses. See Barnard’s <i>Annual Reports of The Board of Commissioners of Common Schools in Connecticut</i> (Hartford: Case, Tiffany and Burnham, 1839), pp. 47-49; 1840, p. 34; 1841, pp. 14-18. See also Horace Mann, <i>Annual Reports of the Board, of Education Together with the Annual Reports of the Secretary of the Board </i>(Boston: Dutton and Wentworth, Fifth, 1842), pp. 30-32; Seventh (1844), pp. 47-50; and Tenth (1847), pp. 65-72, 152-53.</ref> But we know little of the pedagogy with which common school educators worked, for it has been generally assumed that the pedagogical purposes and procedures of the common schools were the same as those of the twentieth century public schools.<ref>For a particularly egregious example of such assumptions, see John S. Brubacher (ed.), <i>Henry Barnard on Education</i> (New York: Russel and Russel, 1931, 1965), especially the section on “General Aims of Education,” pp. 69-76. It does not do justice to Barnard to characterize him as a twentieth century life-adjustment educator. Brubacher saddles Barnard with a pedagogy antithetical to Barnard’s real one by saying (p. 69): “to him schools were agencies of social rejuvenation. On the one hand this meant that they must equip the individual with the tools necessary for adjustment to his immediate environment. But Barnard also had in mind a broader horizon of the environment to which the schools must adjust not only children but even adults.” Barnard had no such grandiose conceptions of the school’s power; it could, with luck, impart to students the skills and standards that would enable them, each as he saw fit, to embark on the arduous course of self-education.</ref> Would that they were — if we would have our schools today informed by a profound and humane conception of education!</p>		<p>For all that has been written about the nineteenth century apostles of public education, there is little said about their pedagogy. We know in detail the arguments that Horace Mann and Henry Barnard used to gain public support for the common school.<ref>For this campaign see Ellwood P. Cubberley, <i>Public Education in the United States,</i> Revised Edition (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Go., 1947), pp. 120-407; Frank Tracy Carlton, <i>Economic Influences upon Educational Progress in the United States, 1820-1850</i> (New York: Teachers College Press, 1965), esp. pp. 49-140; and Rush Welter, <i>Popular Education and Democratic Thought in America</i> (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), pp. 45-137. Welter, however, does not say much about Barnard’s part.</ref> We know how and why a vigorous effort at public persuasion convinced New Englanders that, as Barnard put it in 1837, “The common school will no longer be regarded as <i>common,</i> because it is cheap, inferior, and attended only by the poor, and those who are indifferent to the education of their children, but common as the light and the air, because its blessings are open to all, and enjoyed by all.”<ref>Quoted by Noah Porter, “Henry Barnard” in <i>The American Journal of Education,</i> Vol. 1 (1856), 662.</ref> We even know that part of the zeal for schoolhouse construction came from the wise realization that communities could be provoked into taking an interest in their schools by embarrassing them into appropriating funds for the construction of a new schoolhouse.<ref>It became a regular feature of the reports of state secretaries and commissioners of education to expose the conditions of schoolhouses. See Barnard’s <i>Annual Reports of The Board of Commissioners of Common Schools in Connecticut</i> (Hartford: Case, Tiffany and Burnham, 1839), pp. 47-49; 1840, p. 34; 1841, pp. 14-18. See also Horace Mann, <i>Annual Reports of the Board, of Education Together with the Annual Reports of the Secretary of the Board </i>(Boston: Dutton and Wentworth, Fifth, 1842), pp. 30-32; Seventh (1844), pp. 47-50; and Tenth (1847), pp. 65-72, 152-53.</ref> But we know little of the pedagogy with which common school educators worked, for it has been generally assumed that the pedagogical purposes and procedures of the common schools were the same as those of the twentieth century public schools.<ref>For a particularly egregious example of such assumptions, see John S. Brubacher (ed.), <i>Henry Barnard on Education</i> (New York: Russel and Russel, 1931, 1965), especially the section on “General Aims of Education,” pp. 69-76. It does not do justice to Barnard to characterize him as a twentieth century life-adjustment educator. Brubacher saddles Barnard with a pedagogy antithetical to Barnard’s real one by saying (p. 69): “to him schools were agencies of social rejuvenation. On the one hand this meant that they must equip the individual with the tools necessary for adjustment to his immediate environment. But Barnard also had in mind a broader horizon of the environment to which the schools must adjust not only children but even adults.” Barnard had no such grandiose conceptions of the school’s power; it could, with luck, impart to students the skills and standards that would enable them, each as he saw fit, to embark on the arduous course of self-education.</ref> Would that they were — if we would have our schools today informed by a profound and humane conception of education!</p>

Robbie at 22:03, 18 November 2024

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	<p>In the light of these findings, two questions are of interest. To what degree did other movements towards functional rationality in design also derive their architectural significance from the principle of efficiency as it applied to self-culture? In view of the transformation of the pedagogy directing public education from one of self-help to one of paternalism, is the continuing emphasis on operational efficiency in classroom design still valid? Answers to these questions will have to be attempted on some other occasion.</p> </div>		<p>In the light of these findings, two questions are of interest. To what degree did other movements towards functional rationality in design also derive their architectural significance from the principle of efficiency as it applied to self-culture? In view of the transformation of the pedagogy directing public education from one of self-help to one of paternalism, is the continuing emphasis on operational efficiency in classroom design still valid? Answers to these questions will have to be attempted on some other occasion.</p> </div>
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	<blockquote>It is a far more just view of school instruction than that which commonly prevails, to regard it as an introduction to the art of self-education. It ought to be so planned and conducted, as to prepare the young to understand their powers and duties, — the objects of their creation, — the character of their maker, — the ways and means of promoting the best interests of their fellow beings and themselves, and to feel a desire to exert themselves in doing and learning more and more. All views of the subject less extensive and exalted than this, are inadequate, erroneous, and delusive. . . . Let every friend of our common schools, therefore, place before his eyes a higher standard than any which he finds adopted around him, and consider himself as having but just commenced his education when he leaves school, instead of having just completed it?<ref>Henry Barnard, “Education, A Business for Life,” <i>Connecticut Common School Journal,</i> Vol. 2, No. 4 (November, 1839), 55-56.</ref></blockquote>		<blockquote>It is a far more just view of school instruction than that which commonly prevails, to regard it as an introduction to the art of self-education. It ought to be so planned and conducted, as to prepare the young to understand their powers and duties, — the objects of their creation, — the character of their maker, — the ways and means of promoting the best interests of their fellow beings and themselves, and to feel a desire to exert themselves in doing and learning more and more. All views of the subject less extensive and exalted than this, are inadequate, erroneous, and delusive. . . . Let every friend of our common schools, therefore, place before his eyes a higher standard than any which he finds adopted around him, and consider himself as having but just commenced his education when he leaves school, instead of having just completed it?<ref>Henry Barnard, “Education, A Business for Life,” <i>Connecticut Common School Journal,</i> Vol. 2, No. 4 (November, 1839), 55-56.</ref></blockquote>
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	<p>Architectural designs for schools are among the best sources, short of direct observation, for discovering what actually happens in a classroom. Any well-designed school should embody what is to go on within it. The designer takes into account the number, age, and character of the students and the instructional techniques the teacher will probably employ; hence the differences between individualized instruction, group recitation, the monitorial system, and departmentalized schooling are palpably exposed in the layout of classrooms adapted for their use.</p>		<p>Architectural designs for schools are among the best sources, short of direct observation, for discovering what actually happens in a classroom. Any well-designed school should embody what is to go on within it. The designer takes into account the number, age, and character of the students and the instructional techniques the teacher will probably employ; hence the differences between individualized instruction, group recitation, the monitorial system, and departmentalized schooling are palpably exposed in the layout of classrooms adapted for their use.</p>

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	<p>Let us review our major points. Architecture differs from building in that the architect is primarily concerned with the cultural, rather than the physical, attributes of an edifice. In Barnard’s <i>School Architecture,</i> and in the standard conception of school design that has flourished ever since, the physical efficiency and comfort of the classroom has been the main concern. When Barnard wrote, the average schoolhouse was egregiously inefficient and uncomfortable, and it was generally condemned for spiritually degrading the child. Given this situation, the functional rationalization of the classroom was <i>architecturally </i>significant because the cultural function of the common school with respect to the reigning conception of self-education was to give efficient instruction to all in the rudiments of a spiritual life. The school had to impart certain intellectual skills and moral standards as efficiently as possible in order to send the pupil on the real business of education — self-culture — with a full preparation and without undue delay. As long as the school has this cultural function, operational efficiency will rightly be the main object of the school architect.</p>		<p>Let us review our major points. Architecture differs from building in that the architect is primarily concerned with the cultural, rather than the physical, attributes of an edifice. In Barnard’s <i>School Architecture,</i> and in the standard conception of school design that has flourished ever since, the physical efficiency and comfort of the classroom has been the main concern. When Barnard wrote, the average schoolhouse was egregiously inefficient and uncomfortable, and it was generally condemned for spiritually degrading the child. Given this situation, the functional rationalization of the classroom was <i>architecturally </i>significant because the cultural function of the common school with respect to the reigning conception of self-education was to give efficient instruction to all in the rudiments of a spiritual life. The school had to impart certain intellectual skills and moral standards as efficiently as possible in order to send the pupil on the real business of education — self-culture — with a full preparation and without undue delay. As long as the school has this cultural function, operational efficiency will rightly be the main object of the school architect.</p>

	<p>In the light of these findings, two questions are of interest. To what degree did other movements towards functional rationality in design also derive their architectural significance from the principle of efficiency as it applied to self-culture? In view of the transformation of the pedagogy directing public education from one of self-help to one of paternalism, is the continuing emphasis on operational efficiency in classroom design still valid? Answers to these questions will have to be attempted on some other occasion.</p>		<p>In the light of these findings, two questions are of interest. To what degree did other movements towards functional rationality in design also derive their architectural significance from the principle of efficiency as it applied to self-culture? In view of the transformation of the pedagogy directing public education from one of self-help to one of paternalism, is the continuing emphasis on operational efficiency in classroom design still valid? Answers to these questions will have to be attempted on some other occasion.</p> </div>

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Architecture and Pedagogy

Robert McClintock and Jean Gardner

Published in the Journal of Aesthetic Education
Vol. 2, Number 4, October 1968, pp. 59-77.

It is a far more just view of school instruction than that which commonly prevails, to regard it as an introduction to the art of self-education. It ought to be so planned and conducted, as to prepare t..."

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Created page with "__NOTITLE__ {{Setup|tick=Texts}} <div class="cent"> <h1>Architecture and Pedagogy</h1> <h3><i>Robert McClintock and Jean Gardner</i></h3> <h5>Published in the <i>Journal of Aesthetic Education</i><br>Vol. 2, Number 4, October 1968, pp. 59-77.</h5> </div> <blockquote>It is a far more just view of school instruction than that which commonly prevails, to regard it as an introduction to the art of self-education. It ought to be so planned and conducted, as to prepare t..."

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Texts:1968 Architecture and Pedagogy - Revision history

Robbie at 16:30, 19 November 2024

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Architecture and Pedagogy

Robert McClintock and Jean Gardner

Published in the Journal of Aesthetic EducationVol. 2, Number 4, October 1968, pp. 59-77.

Published in the Journal of Aesthetic Education
Vol. 2, Number 4, October 1968, pp. 59-77.