Notes on Jean Jacques Rousseau's "Emile"

In gray font are some of the highlights of Jean Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy on education (Emile) as paraphrased by me. Following each main point are my notes/comments (pink font).

(Disclaimer: These are not the only highlights of the book; just the things I chose to comment on. This entry is based on the critique I submitted to my EDFD class, but it is not the actual text nor does it follow the actual format.)



Humans are naturally good, but somehow, in the course of their lives, they tend to depart from their nature. Hence, like plants, they must be cultivated through education; for without education, they will be trampled upon by social conditions.

I am also of the belief — which, I must admit, is spawned forth by religion — that everything created by God (the author) is by nature good; but somehow, as we live among our fellow human beings, we tend to pick up habits that make us very far removed from our natural state; that is, of goodness.

That like a young plant, man must be fashioned through education and that without education, man would be trampled upon by social conditions, I completely agree. Education does refine man and enhance the gifts with which he is endowed.


The education of humans comes from three masters — nature, through which our organs and faculties are developed; men, from whom we learn the use to make of our growth; and things, from which we gain our experiences of our surroundings. The teachings of these three masters should not conflict. If they do, the education of man will be jeopardized.

Rousseau’s concept of three masters is acceptable to me. We do learn from nature, from the people around us, and from our experiences. But for the teachings of these three masters to not ever conflict with each other — that I consider a question of what might be the ideal and what is the reality. It is next to impossible, I think, for these three to be always in agreement with each other.


The teachings of nature are beyond the control of man; but the teachings of man and of things are. Hence, the teacher must control those teachings that can be controlled so that they remain in accordance with the teachings of that which cannot be controlled. Likewise, the teacher must control those factors that present themselves to the child much too early, when the child is not yet ready for them; as well as those that corrupt the child and lead him away from his nature. He must keep everything that might hinder the child from getting proper education, but he must do so such that the child does not learn of his interference.

Rousseau espouses the idea that the teacher must control the environment in which he places his pupil. I think such idea is rather doubtful. For one, it would require a perfect teacher to do that; sadly, there is no such teacher. Second, even the things that are not from nature which he considers to be within the control of man most often do not succumb to anyone’s control. Third, the teacher controlling a student’s environment is just like a researcher conducting and controlling an experiment. To me, such environment is artificial. It simply does not exist in the real world.



The ideal form of teaching is one that adheres to man’s nature. Hence, children are best educated not in the city where they are exposed to elements that will rob them off their nature, but in the rural areas where they are most in touched with it.

For Rousseau, the best education takes place in rural area. Howver, even if his arguments were correct, such would fall under what I consider a matter of what is and what should be. You just cannot transport all the kids to the rural areas. Besides, there are types of knowledge rural children are better at than the city children (like their knowledge of plants, animals and other natural phenomena they are exposed to). But it can also not be denied that children in the city have better knowledge of other things, such as technology, than the rural children.


The best method of teaching is showing, rather than telling. Pupils are better taught if they are made to experience the things that they must learn (experiential learning). They are better off being allowed to discover the facts of life on their own (learning by discovery), rather than being taught about them. The teacher must encourage them to draw conclusions from their experiences, and not to rely on what authorities or experts say about such experiences.

I can see some semblance between present teaching methods and Rousseau’s point that the best method of teaching is showing rather than telling, and letting students learn by experience. There are now teaching theories that support experiential learning and learning by discovery. There is no question, I think, that such theories are effective. However, I also would not discredit the effectiveness of learning by instruction (Rousseau does). If I were a teacher, I would opt to integrate these three methods to teach my students; and if in some instances I favor one over the other, my decision to do so shall be based on what type of lesson I am giving the students.


The ideal form of teaching is in accordance with the pupil’s age. Children must be allowed to be children. They must be allowed to play, and should not be given lessons that are beyond what they are ready to take nor should they be introduced to concepts not within their grasp.

Human development is divided into five phases: infancy, (birth to two years), the age of nature, (two to 12 years), pre-adolescence (12 to 15 years), puberty, (15 to 20) and adulthood (20 to 25).

Education must start at birth, well before the child “can speak or understand he is learning.” During the infancy period, education focuses on (1) not letting the child “contract habits,” for habits interfere with the child’s nature; and (2) giving the child more liberty and less power. Children must be taught to be self-reliant, to “do more for themselves and to demand less of others.” Confining their wishes within the limits of their powers will make them not desire things that are beyond their power.

When children are already in the second stage of development, they are given only “negative education.” Children’s education at this stage focuses on their physical development, and on the use of their senses. Neither moral instruction nor verbal learning is given them. At this stage, the children’s faculties are not yet fully developed; hence it is best that their mind is left undisturbed.

The third stage of development is where the children’s strength increases faster than their needs. In no other stage of development is the children’s strength more abundant than in the third. It is at this period that learning takes a mental form, for they are now more capable of having a sustained attention.

At fifteen, the age at which the fourth stage of development begins, the children’s reason is already well developed. They are now able to deal with the emotions of adolescence as well as with religion and moral issues. Children this age may now enter into community life, but they must still hold back from societal pressures and influences.

The last and final stage, adulthood, signals the full development of humans. It is at this point that they are expected to be ready to deal with love and relationship (marriage) and to be ready to re-enter into the society.

At all stages of development, children must be taught to be independent and to not want things that are not within their power to provide for themselves. To not to rely on anyone but themselves being one of the main goals of their education, they must be safeguarded against the “seductive illusions” of the society. They must “not be seduced by too much learning, too much imaginative literature or art” for these might stir in them wants they cannot satisfy and lead them to become dependent. Practical knowledge of things that are directly relevant is preferable to insatiable pursuits of wisdom of which they do not have any need. Rather than endeavoring in such pursuits, children should focus instead on the practical aspects of things. Likewise, they must veer away from human interactions, except in instances where the people they are to interact with are rehearsed players in a planned environment.

That children must be allowed to be children and that they must be taught according to their level, I completely agree. Like Rousseau, I too believe that children must not be rushed to learn things they would eventually learn. However, I disagree with Rousseau that such activities as singing to children, reading to them, guiding them to walk, and guiding them to speak are forms of rushing children to learn. There are now studies showing that babies, even while they are in their mother’s wombs, are able to recognize voices and are picking up from the things in their mother’s surroundings. These studies show that introducing activities previously thought to be too high or too advance for children does not have negative impact on the children’s development; that, on the contrary, doing so facilitates the children’s learning.

My idea of teaching children according to their level is different from Rousseau’s. He would not facilitate learning of the things he says will be learnt by the child eventually, I would. He would not read to the child, I would. For me, doing so is not rushing the child to learn; it is providing him the things he might already be capable of picking up.

Rousseau’s program of education, which involves classifying activities and then deciding which of them are suitable for each stage of human development, (i.e., affective learning for the first stage; sense-focused lessons on the second stage) — of this I am not comfortable. I would rather adhere to the present educational system, where all types of learning are taught in each of the stages of development; only, they are taught gradually. Lessons are prepared such that children are taught the same concepts but the method and language of instruction differ in complexity (depending on the children’s level).

I am also not comfortable with Rousseau’s decision not to give children the gift of literary and art appreciation. As a struggling writer, I derive profound happiness and satisfaction from reading and creating literary works. I pity a child denied that kind of experience, especially if such child would have had the talent to create works of art had his talent been nurtured.

And while I agree that practical knowledge is very important for it is that form of knowledge that would help the children go through life as they grow older, I also would not dream of denying them the chance to pursue higher thinking if they are so inclined. (I will always say NO to mediocrity.)


On the whole, I would say that Rousseau’s idea of proper education is far removed from what is achievable. It is too “ideal.” As a manual on child rearing and teaching, his treatise is definitely impossible and impractical. The conditions one needs to create one Emile are beyond what one teacher — even the perfect one — can provide.

However, Rousseau’s treatise must not be completely ignored, either. There are points in the book which we can adapt to better teach our children. The idea of learning by discovery and by experience is one good example. Another is the idea of a child-centered learning, which now has good theories supporting its effectiveness and “superiority” over other methods.

What part-time?

Whew! Life’s been so hectic these past days because of the adjustments in school that I needed to make. I had thought that with my “semi-employment,” I’d have a lot more time for myself. But then I realized, while my load is technically normal for a part-time student, I have to put in 3 units more than the load of a fulltime student (and that’s twice the normal load of a part timer), if I want to complete my INCs — and I have to, because this semester’s my last chance to do that.

Whew! My sched’s in limbo again!

And that means I may not be able to write nonsensical stuff for a while, because I need to concentrate on my academic research works. To think that writing good-for-nothing articles is what I'm really good at. Kaloka!

Dr. O's verdict

1.25 for me.

Damn!

I know, I know! A grade of 1.25 should not be so awful. But when you know that a non-deserving soul got 1.0, it is.

Hah... biatch!

Bullshit personified

Warning: This is a shitty entry. If you’d rather have a feel-good article, read no further.


Dr. O didn’t list it as a requirement in the class syllabus she gave us at the start of the semester. Neither did she mention that it was important when she encouraged us to write and publish an opinion piece on the new bill on bilingual education. Not even during the long months we met every week did she say something that would have given us a hint that it was necessary. But after our group had fulfilled all the class requirements and we were ready to party, it was then that she announced in class that the only way for us to have a grade of one is to get published, and that only one among us has made it — Pao.

Damn! Magpapa-publish lang pala, uno na?

Why then did we have to conduct an in-service training? Why the hell did we have to do interviews, surveys and class observations and find out the needs of the teachers of a public school the existence of which we did not even know about until three months ago? Why the hell did we have to spend a lot of money, waste much of our time, exhaust our energy, and go through weekly meetings, brainstorming sessions and planning when all we needed to do lang pala was flip through files of studies, sit a couple of hours writing a one-page opinion piece, email our output to a broadsheet, and presto! — UNO na?

Oh! Before you go thinking that I’m merely sour-graping, let me tell you this: that isn’t my way. I know when I deserve something and when I don’t. And right now, I am not saying that I deserve a grade of one. But I dare say that if no one in my group deserves it, then Pao deserves it much less.

I don’t have any problem if she’d choose to give Pao a bonus grade for having his work published. Maybe, he deserves it. But uno? No way!

Yes, Pao may be the brightest student in class. He can easily outshine anyone. He is smart, intelligent and articulate. And he is a fulltime student. It helps too, that he has a knack for befriending teachers (a skill I lack, and never bothered to acquire).

Still, I maintain that he doesn’t deserve a one. Why should he? As the leader of his group, he has failed big time. Their in-service training was not quite good — our bitch of a teacher said so herself (They made a big mistake of hiring a professional as a speaker in their training when it should have been one or two among them who did the talk. Now, who should the teacher grade, the speaker whom they hired?) Even before they concluded their in-service training, their group was already divided into two — with him on one side, and the rest of the group on the other. And to top it all, their documentation/written output was still not ready when the original submission date arrived.

So where did Pao’s grade of one come from? It could not have been from the in-service training, which, we were made to believe all throughout the semester, was the main requirement in class.

(Oh, I forgot! He got his opinion piece published nga pala! Patawa naman o! Kukunin ‘yung grade niya sa extra work na pinagawa ng teacher? Extra, kasi hindi naman bilingual education ang description ng class! And ha! Ha! What’s the fuss nga pala about his opinion piece having been published? Was it a major article? Was it a literary piece? Neither. So what’s the big deal? It’s not as if it’s so difficult to have something published. I should know, because I happen to be in the publishing industry.)

And, as if the racket of a news about Pao already assured of his top marks — long before his group drafted and submitted their written output — still wasn’t enough, the piece of vermin sitting on the teacher’s desk further elicited my group’s annoyance when, as we were submitting our output on the day of submission, she suddenly realized that there are specific things she wanted to see in our documentation (Oh… let’s just say she simply forgot to tell us beforehand, OK? I’m sure it was an honest mistake on her part).

So needless to say, she extended the deadline to another two weeks. However, one week to go before deadline 2, she again realized she wanted us pala to follow a certain format. (Now, of course it would be too bad of us to think she’s stalling things so that her favorite student’s group could catch up, so let’s just think she’s really forgetful, shall we?)

But damn… damn… damn!

I’ve been trying to justify her actions since her announcement; I’ve been trying to see things from her perspective to understand the whys of things; but until now I still think that we (my groupmates and I, including Pao’s group members) were unjustly treated.

To this date, I still feel I've been cheated.

Maybe if it were just the grade we are talking about, I would not have cared one bit. I’ve grown matured enough to know that grade isn’t everything; that in fact, it doesn’t mean anything in most of our endeavors. But the issue isn’t just about grade. Neither is it about Pao. It’s about a teacher who thought she could subject her students to her whims and get away with it. It’s about favoritism and power play.

Oh! I may never be a genius like Pao. But dammit, I know bullshit when I see one.

Empathizing with the pupils’ plight

A reflection on the in-service training my classmates and I conducted in a public school in Quezon City, in fulfillment of one of the requirements of our EDL 261 class. The training is a two-fold process: needs analysis (based on the outcomes of our class observations and survey and interview among several teachers and pupils) and seminar-workshop (based on the results of the needs analysis).


The in-service training our group conducted was both an eye-opening experience for us to the actual plight of our public schools and an affirmation of what we’ve known all along: that our public educational system is in dire need of overhaul.

During the course of our interview (I was the leader of the interview group) with several pupils and language teachers, I realized that while it was apparent that the level of competency among the teachers is low and that of learning among students is compromised; there is a desire, albeit of varying degrees, among members of both groups (at least, the ones we interviewed) to better themselves. Perfectly aware of their limitations, they are willing to join activities that promise learning enhancement.

But, as pointed out by one of the teachers, they can only do so much. They can give it all their best, and it still won’t be enough. For what is a teacher to do when the pupils couldn’t come to school because they are needed at home, either to do some household chores or to make a living?

Nothing, for the teachers’ economic status is, in most cases, only slightly better than that of their pupils. All they could do is hope that the absentee pupils would soon surface — bathed, fully clothed and with full stomach — so that they could provide them the kind of education they deserve. But even these two scenarios — the pupils’ showing up in what I’d call “optimally teachable” condition and the teachers’ giving them good education — are wishful thinking. For, with due respect to the teachers, they themselves need to do a lot of learning; not only in areas of teaching strategies, but, more important, in what they teach (content) the pupils. [During the observation phase of our in-service training, our observation group noted some factual errors made by the teachers, e.g., “what is the third person of him?” (The pronoun him is in the third person point of view; hence, it cannot possibly have a “third person.” But, being in the objective case, it does have a nominative case, which is he. The question should have been: "What is the nominative case of him?")]

Being a product of public schools myself, I was only slightly shocked (at least, not as shocked as my classmates were) at what I heard and saw in the school. But more than that, I can easily relate to the plight of the pupils. Looking at them as we were conducting our in-service training, I couldn’t help but imagine how I looked like when I was an elementary pupil myself, and be saddened that what was true during my time is still true up to this day: our quality of education is embarrassingly dismal. But while our situation then was bad, compared to that of the pupils in good schools in Metro Manila, the situation now is at its most alarming state — a hundred times worse than before.

Thinking what would become of the pupils when they grow up, given the kind of education they are getting, a thought hit me: the pupils who would be lucky enough to get into good schools for their tertiary education (or even simply attend tertiary education in whatever school, for that matter), would have a lot of catching up (of the right learning) and unlearning (of the wrongful teachings) to do in order to survive; that is, if they’d even realize that they had been taught wrong. Having gone through both processes of learning and unlearning myself (hence, I know how difficult it could be), I deeply empathize with them.

But more than everything else, the whole experience awakened in me passion for teaching. Being a non-teacher, I had always questioned my decision to take up MA in Language Education, especially when difficult tasks are being required of us, and more so whenever my schedule would be so hectic that I had to choose between attending my classes and staying late in the office to beat our deadline. (I had always chosen the latter, that I almost got dropped out from my classes last semester). During those times, I was always reduced to contemplating quitting from the program, reasoning to myself that an MA degree would not have any use to me, anyway.

But something always kept me from ditching my studies. At the back of my mind, I was (and still am) hopeful that someday, there would be a venue for me to share all the things I’m learning from all these studying that I do.

So, I guess the whole exercise was not for naught. After all, it allowed our group to cultivate deep friendship among ourselves, and gave us the good feeling that we were able to share knowledge and gain valuable lessons from it. If these don’t make for good reasons for the activity to be deemed worthwhile, then I don’t know what would. [seb/22feb2006]



[P.S. I love graduate school (GS). For some reason, I find GS easier than tertiary education. GS teachers likewise tend to give you the grades you deserve. There are teachers in tertiary education who give ridiculous grades. (I remember a particularly arrogant one who, upon learning that our class was big (40 students) during the first day of class, announced: “Half of you will fail.” And she did fail a lot of my classmates. She gave me a grade of 3. The reason? I argued with her about her (and her department’s) penchant for coining words to explain Philippine history and expecting everyone to know of these terms, hence, refusing to explain them. When she learned that I was a linguistics student, she made provocative statements about my department’s penchant for re-spelling English words into Filipino (e.g., association into asosyeysyon; subject into sabjek, and so on). Though I personally wasn’t very much into re-spelling English words into Filipino, I used a lot of re-spelled words in the written requirements I submitted in her class, just to annoy her. (Hey, what did you expect? Bully eh! Hehehehe.) I guess the only thing that stopped her from failing me was that I got high marks in her exams; and maybe (just maybe) my oral as well as written reports were good, albeit the re-spelled words.

Anyway, I haven’t seen that sort of thing happen in GS. (Although I heard that our GS teachers are also “terrors” in their tertiary classes.)

But what I like most about GS is the near absence of competition in class. The students help each other out. They give pieces of advice when you ask them to. They cheer you up when you think you did poorly in class; and pat you in the back when you turned in an exemplary performance. And above all, they urge you to keep going when you think you are ready to quit.]