[230] When I visited the United States for the first time, I was much astonished to see that there were no barriers at the railway crossings and no protective hedges alongside the railway track. In the remoter districts the line was actually used as a foot-path. When I voiced my astonishment about this, I was informed, “Only an idiot could fail to see that trains pass along the line at forty to a hundred miles an hour!” Another thing that struck me was that nothing is verboten; instead, one is merely “not allowed” to do something, or one is politely requested: “Please don’t ”——.
[231] These impressions, and others like them, reduced themselves to the discovery that in America civic life appeals to the intelligence and expects an intelligent response, whereas in Europe it plans for stupidity. America fosters and looks forward to intelligence; Europe looks back to see whether the dumb ones are also coming along. What is worse, Europe takes evil intentions for granted and is forever crying that bossy and officious “Verboten!” into our ears, whereas America addresses herself to people’s common sense and goodwill.
[232] Involuntarily I found my thoughts drifting back to my school-days, and there I saw the European prejudice embodied in certain of my teachers. I was not, as a twelve-year-old schoolboy, by any means drowsy or stupid, but often I felt uncommonly bored when the teacher had to busy himself with the slowcoaches. I had the good fortune to possess a genial Latin master who, during the exercises, used to send me to fetch books from the university library, and in these I browsed with delight as I dawdled back by the longest possible route. Boredom, however, was by no means the worst of my experiences. Once, among the numerous and not exactly stimulating themes for an essay, we were given something really interesting. I set to work very seriously and polished my sentences with the greatest care. In happy anticipation of having written the best, or at least one of the better essays, I handed mine in to the teacher. When giving them back he always used to discuss the best essay first, and then the others in order of merit. All the others came before mine, and when the last, feeblest effort was about to be discussed, the teacher inflated himself in a manner that boded disaster, and pronounced the following words: “Jung’s essay is by far the best, but he has composed it frivolously and dashed it off without taking any trouble. Therefore it merits no attention whatever.” “That is not true,” I cried, “I’ve never put so much work into any essay as I did into this.” “That’s a lie!” he shouted. “Look at Smith Minor”—the boy who had produced the worst essay—“he took trouble over his. He will get on in life, but you won’t, no, not you—for in life you can’t get away with cleverness and humbug.” I was silent. From that moment I never did a stroke of work during German lessons.
[233] This mishap lies more than half a century behind me, and I have no doubt that there have been many changes and improvements in the school since then. But, at the time, it obsessed my thoughts and left me with a feeling of bitterness, though this naturally gave place to better understanding as my experience of life increased. I came to realize that my teacher’s attitude was after all based on the noble precept of helping the weak and eradicating the bad. But, as so often happens with such precepts, they are apt to be elevated to soulless principles which do not bear thinking about further, so that a lamentable caricature of goodness results: one helps the weak and fights against the bad, but at the same time one runs the risk of putting the gifted child in a back place, as though being ahead of one’s fellows were something scandalous and improper. The average person distrusts and readily suspects anything that his intelligence cannot grasp. Il est trop intelligent—reason enough for the blackest suspicion! In one of his novels Paul Bourget describes an exquisite scene in the antechamber of some Minister, which serves as the perfect paradigm. A middle-class couple offer this criticism of a celebrated scholar, with whom of course they are not acquainted: “Il doit être de la police secrète, il a l’air si méchant.”
[234] I trust you will forgive me for having dwelt so long on autobiographical details. Nevertheless this Wahrheit without the Dichtung is not just an isolated instance; it is something that happens all too often. The gifted schoolchild faces us with an important task which we cannot ignore, despite that worthy maxim about helping the less gifted. In a country as small as Switzerland we cannot afford, however charitable our aspirations may be, to overlook these much-needed gifted children. Even today we seem to proceed somewhat diffidently in this matter. Not long ago I heard of the following case: An intelligent little girl in one of the lower forms at a primary school suddenly became a bad pupil, much to the astonishment of her parents. The things the child said out of school sounded so comical that her parents got the impression that the children were treated like idiots and were being stultified artificially. So the mother went to see the Principal about it and discovered that the teacher had been trained to cope with defectives and had formerly looked after backward children. Obviously she did not know the first thing about normal ones. Luckily the damage was caught in time, so that the child could be passed on to a normal teacher under whom she soon picked up again.
[235] The problem of the gifted child is not at all simple, because he is not distinguished merely by the fact of being a good pupil. Occasionally he is the exact opposite. He may even be notoriously absent-minded, have his head full of other things, be indolent, slovenly, inattentive, badly behaved, self-willed, or evoke the impression of being half asleep. From external observation alone it is sometimes difficult to distinguish the gifted child from a mental defective.
[236] Nor should we forget that gifted children are not always precocious, but may on the contrary develop slowly, so that the gift remains latent for a long time. The giftedness can then be spotted only with difficulty. On the other hand too much goodwill and optimism on the part of the teacher can imagine talents that later turn out to be blanks, as in the biography which says: “No signs of genius were observable up to his fortieth year—nor indeed afterwards.”
[237] Sometimes the only thing that helps in diagnosing a gift is careful observation of the child’s individuality both in school and at home, which alone enables us to see what is primary disposition and what is secondary reaction. In the gifted child inattentiveness, absent-mindedness, and day-dreaming may prove to be a secondary defence against outside influences, in order that the interior fantasy processes may be pursued undisturbed. Admittedly the mere existence of lively fantasies or peculiar interests is no proof of special gifts, as the same predominance of aimless fantasies and abnormal interests may also be found in the previous history of neurotics and psychotics. What does reveal the gift, however, is the nature of these fantasies. For this one must be able to distinguish an intelligent fantasy from a stupid one. A good criterion of judgment is the originality, consistency, intensity, and subtlety of the fantasy structure, as well as the latent possibility of its realization. One must also consider how far the fantasy extends into the child’s actual life, for instance in the form of hobbies systematically pursued and other interests. Another important indication is the degree and quality of his interest in general. One sometimes makes surprising discoveries where problem children are concerned, such as a voracious and apparently indiscriminate reading of books, done mostly in the forbidden hours after bedtime, or else some unusual practical accomplishment. All these signs can only be understood by one who takes the trouble to inquire into the reasons for the child’s problems, and who is not content merely to pick on the bad qualities. A certain knowledge of psychology—by which I mean common sense and experience—is therefore a desirable requisite in a teacher.
[238] The psychic disposition of the gifted child always moves in violent contrasts. That is to say, it is extremely rare for the gift to affect all regions of the psyche uniformly. The general rule is that one or the other region will be so little developed as to entitle us to speak of a defect. Above all the degree of maturity differs enormously. In the region of the gift abnormal precocity may prevail, while outside that region the mental attainment may be below normal for a child of that age. Occasionally this gives rise to a misleading picture: one thinks one is dealing with a rather undeveloped and mentally backward child and, in consequence, fails to credit him with any ability above the normal. Or it may be that a precocious intellect is not accompanied by a corresponding development of verbal facility, so that the child is driven to express himself in a seemingly confused or unintelligible way. In such cases only a careful inquiry into the why and wherefore, and a conscientious deliberation of the answers, can save the teacher from false judgments. But there are also cases where the gift applies to some aptitude not affected by school-work at all. This is particularly true of certain practical accomplishments. I myself remember boys who distinguished themselves at school by their remarkable stupidity, but who were highly efficient at the peasant trades of their parents.
[239] While I am on this subject I must not omit to point out that very erroneous views used to be held at one time concerning the gift for mathematics. It was believed that the capacity for logical and abstract thought was, so to speak, incarnate in mathematics and that this was therefore the best discipline if one wanted to think logically. But the mathematical gift, like the musical gift to which it is biologically related, is identical neither with logic nor with intellect, although it makes use of them just as all philosophy and science do. One can be musical without possessing a scrap of intellect, and in the same way astounding feats of calculation can be performed by imbeciles. Mathematical sense can be inculcated as little as can musical sense, for it is a specific gift.
[240] The gifted child is faced with complications not only in the intellectual but in the moral sphere, that is, in the province of feeling. The prevarication, lying, and other moral laxities so common in grown-ups can easily become a distressing problem for the morally gifted child. It is just as easy for an adult to disregard moral criticism that springs from feeling, as it is to overlook or underestimate intellectual sensitivity and precocity. The gifts of the heart are not quite so obvious or so impressive as intellectual and technical endowments, and, just as the latter demand special understanding from the teacher, so these other gifts often make the even greater demand that he himself should be educated. For the day will inevitably come when what the educator teaches by word of mouth no longer works, but only what he is. Every educator—and I use the term in its widest sense—should constantly ask himself whether he is actually fulfilling his teachings in his own person and in his own life, to the best of his knowledge and with a clear conscience. Psychotherapy has taught us that in the final reckoning it is not knowledge, not technical skill, that has a curative effect, but the personality of the doctor. And it is the same with education: it presupposes self-education.
[241] In saying this I have no wish to set myself up as a judge over the pedagogues; on the contrary, with my many years as active teacher and educator, I must count myself as one of them and await judgment or condemnation with the rest. It is only on the basis of my experience in treating human beings that I venture to draw your attention to the profound practical significance of this fundamental educational truth.
[242] There are, besides the gifts of the head, also those of the heart, which are no whit less important, although they may easily be overlooked because in such cases the head is often the weaker organ. And yet people of this kind sometimes contribute more to the well-being of society, and are more valuable, than those with other talents. But, like all gifts, talented feeling has two sides to it. A high degree of empathy, especially noticeable in girls, can adapt itself to the teacher so skilfully as to arouse the impression of a special talent, and moreover on the evidence of no mean achievements. But as soon as the personal influence ceases, the gift fizzles out. It was nothing but an enthusiastic episode conjured into existence through empathy, flaring up like a straw fire and leaving the ashes of disappointment behind.
[243] The education of gifted children makes considerable demands upon the intellectual, psychological, moral, and artistic capacities of the educator, demands which, it may be, no teacher can reasonably be expected to fulfil. He would have to be something of a genius himself if he were to do justice to the gift of genius among any of his pupils.
[244] Fortunately, however, many gifts seem to have a peculiar ability to take care of themselves, and the closer a gifted child comes to being a genius the more his creative capacity—as the very word “genius” implies—acts like a personality far in advance of his years, one might even say like a divine daemon who not only needs no educating, but against whom it is more necessary to protect the child. Great gifts are the fairest, and often the most dangerous, fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang on the weakest branches, which easily break. In most cases, as I have already suggested, the gift develops in inverse ratio to the maturation of the personality as a whole, and often one has the impression that a creative personality grows at the expense of the human being. Sometimes, indeed, there is such a discrepancy between the genius and his human qualities that one has to ask oneself whether a little less talent might not have been better. What after all is great intellect beside moral inferiority? There are not a few gifted persons whose usefulness is paralysed, not to say perverted, by their human shortcomings. A gift is not an absolute value, or rather, it is such a value only when the rest of the personality keeps pace with it, so that the talent can be applied usefully. Creative powers can just as easily turn out to be destructive. It rests solely with the moral personality whether they apply themselves to good things or to bad. And if this is lacking, no teacher can supply it or take its place.
[245] The narrow margin between a gift and its pathological variant makes the problem of educating such children much more difficult. Not only is the gift almost invariably compensated by some inferiority in another sphere, but occasionally it is coupled with a morbid defect. In such cases it is almost impossible to determine whether it is the gift or the psychopathic constitution that predominates.
[246] For all these reasons I would hardly like to say whether it would be of advantage to educate particularly gifted pupils in separate classes, as has been proposed.2 I at least would not care to be the expert upon whom devolved the selection of suitable pupils. Although it would be an enormous help to the gifted ones, we have still to consider the fact that these same pupils do not always come up to the level of their gifts in other respects, human as well as mental. Segregated in a special class, the gifted child would be in danger of developing into a one-sided product. In a normal class, on the other hand, although he might be bored with the subject in which he excelled, the other subjects would serve to remind him of his backwardness, and this would have a useful and much-needed moral effect. For all gifts have the moral disadvantage of causing in their possessor a feeling of superiority and hence an inflation which needs to be compensated by a corresponding humility. But since gifted children are very often spoilt, they come to expect exceptional treatment. My old teacher was well aware of this, and that is why he delivered his moral “knock-out,” from which I failed at the time to draw the necessary conclusions. Since then I have learnt to see that my teacher was an instrument of fate. He was the first to give me a taste of the hard truth that the gifts of the gods have two sides, a bright and a dark. To rush ahead is to invite blows, and if you don’t get them from the teacher, you will get them from fate, and generally from both. The gifted child will do well to accustom himself early to the fact that any excellence puts him in an exceptional position and exposes him to a great many risks, the chief of which is an exaggerated self-confidence. Against this the only protection is humility and obedience, and even these do not always work.
[247] It therefore seems to me better to educate the gifted child along with the other children in a normal class, and not to underline his exceptional position by transferring him to a special class. When all is said and done, school is a part of the great world and contains in miniature all those factors which the child will encounter in later life and with which he will have to come to terms. Some at least of this necessary adaptation can and should be learnt at school. Occasional clashes are not a catastrophe. Misunderstanding is fatal only when chronic, or when the child’s sensitivity is unusually acute and there is no possibility of finding another teacher. That often brings favourable results, but only when the cause of the trouble really does lie with the teacher. This is by no means the rule, for in many cases the teacher has to suffer for the ruin wrought by the child’s upbringing at home. Far too often parents who were unable to fulfil their own ambitions embody them in their gifted child, whom they either pamper or else whip up into a showpiece, sometimes very much to his detriment in later years, as is sufficiently evident from the lives of certain infant prodigies.
[248] A powerful talent, and especially the Danaän gift of genius, is a fateful factor that throws its shadow early before. The genius will come through despite everything, for there is something absolute and indomitable in his nature. The so-called “misunderstood genius” is rather a doubtful phenomenon. Generally he turns out to be a good-for-nothing who is forever seeking a soothing explanation of himself. Once, in my professional capacity, I was forced to confront a “genius” of this type with the alternative: “Or perhaps you are nothing but a lazy hound?” It was not long before we found ourselves in whole-hearted agreement on this point. Talent, on the other hand, can either be hampered, crippled, and perverted, or fostered, developed, and improved. The genius is as rare a bird as the phoenix, an apparition not to be counted upon. Consciously or unconsciously, genius is something that by God’s grace is there from the start, in full strength. But talent is a statistical regularity and does not always have a dynamism to match. Like genius, it is exceedingly diverse in its forms, giving rise to individual differentiations which the educator ought not to overlook; for a differentiated personality, or one capable of differentiation, is of the utmost value to the community. The levelling down of the masses through suppression of the aristocratic or hierarchical structure natural to a community is bound, sooner or later, to lead to disaster. For, when everything outstanding is levelled down, the signposts are lost, and the longing to be led becomes an urgent necessity. Human leadership being fallible, the leader himself has always been, and always will be, subject to the great symbolical principles, even as the individual cannot give his life point and meaning unless he puts his ego at the service of a spiritual authority superordinate to man. The need to do this arises from the fact that the ego never constitutes the whole of a man, but only the conscious part of him. The unconscious part, of unlimited extent, alone can complete him and make him a real totality.
[249] Biologically speaking, the gifted person is a deviation from the mean, and in so far as Lao-tzu’s remark that “high stands on low” is one of the eternal verities, this deviation takes place simultaneously in the heights and depths of the same individual. This produces a tension of opposites in him, which in its turn tempers and intensifies his personality. Like the still waters, the gifted child runs deep. His danger lies not only in deviating from the norm, however favourable this may appear to be, but even more in that inner polarity which predisposes to conflict. Therefore, instead of segregation in special classes, the personal interest and attention of the teacher are likely to be more beneficial. Although the institution of a trained school psychiatrist is thoroughly to be recommended and need not be a mere concession to the craze for what is technically right, I would say, in the light of my own experience, that an understanding heart is everything in a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.
[250] Because there are, among the other pupils, gifted and highly strung natures which ought not to be hemmed in and stifled, the school curriculum should for that very reason never wander too far from the humanities into over specialized fields. The coming generation should at least be shown the doors that lead to the many different departments of life and the mind. And it seems to me especially important for any broad-based culture to have a regard for history in the widest sense of the word. Important as it is to pay attention to what is practical and useful, and to consider the future, that backward glance at the past is just as important. Culture means continuity, not a tearing up of roots through “progress.” For the gifted child in particular, a balanced education is essential as a measure of psychic hygiene. As I have said, his gift is one-sided and is almost always offset by some childish immaturity in other regions of the psyche. Childhood, however, is a state of the past. Just as the developing embryo recapitulates, in a sense, our phylogenetic history, so the childpsyche relives “the lesson of earlier humanity,” as Nietzsche called it. The child lives in a pre-rational and above all in a prescientific world, the world of the men who existed before us. Our roots lie in that world and every child grows from those roots. Maturity bears him away from his roots and immaturity binds him to them. Knowledge of the universal origins builds the bridge between the lost and abandoned world of the past and the still largely inconceivable world of the future. How should we lay hold of the future, how should we assimilate it, unless we are in possession of the human experience which the past has bequeathed to us? Dispossessed of this, we are without root and without perspective, defenceless dupes of whatever novelties the future may bring. A purely technical and practical education is no safeguard against delusion and has nothing to oppose to the counterfeit. It lacks the culture whose innermost law is the continuity of history, the long procession of man’s more than individual consciousness. This continuity which reconciles all opposites also heals the conflicts that threaten the gifted child.
[251] Anything new should always be questioned and tested with caution, for it may very easily turn out to be only a new disease. That is why true progress is impossible without mature judgment. But a well-balanced judgment requires a firm standpoint, and this in turn can only rest on a sound knowledge of what has been. The man who is unconscious of the historical context and lets slip his link with the past is in constant danger of succumbing to the crazes and delusions engendered by all novelties. It is the tragedy of all innovators that they empty out the baby with the bath-water. Though the mania for novelty is not, thank heavens, the national vice of the Swiss, we live nevertheless in a wider world that is being shaken by strange fevers of renewal. In face of this frightening and grandiose spectacle, steadiness is demanded of our young men as never before, firstly for the stability of our country, and secondly for the sake of European civilization, which has nothing to gain if the achievements of the Christian past are wiped out.
[252] The gifted ones, however, are the torch-bearers, chosen for that high office by nature herself.