تبة

the simple relations such as I 2:34: etc., while it will respond weakly or not at all for other relations.

The action of the glottis in producing the voice tone is so closely like that of the siren, and the structure of the vocal cavities can be so closely imitated by the resonators of butcher's meat or water, that it is safe to assume that the production of the vowels proceeds on the same principles in both cases. A vowel, therefore, consists of two parts, namely, the voice tone and the group of cavity tones. The voice tone consists of the series of puffs from the glottis. The cavity tones consist of the vibrations aroused by these puffs. Any series of puffs from the glottis can arouse any cavity tones; consequently any vowel can be produced on

any note.

The cavity tones arise from the series of cavities-chest, pharynx, mouth, nose-below and above the glottis. The pitch of these tones depends on the sizes of these cavities and on the sizes and shapes of their openings. It will not de

pend on their shapes, because-according to a well-established principle of physics-they are all so small in comparison with the lengths of the sound waves that only the capacity, not the form, of the cavity is of any effect.

The system of vocal cavities is complicated. The mouth cavity may be made smaller or larger. It can be divided by two, or even three, The openings among

the tongue into smaller cavities.

these cavities can be varied by the shape of the tongue. The external opening can be varied in shape and size by the lips. The nasal cavity can be cut off entirely. or partially by the velum. Every change in the size of a cavity and in the size and shape of its openings produces a change in its tone. The system of cavities thus provides for a practically endless variety of vowels.

The disc siren of Seebeck has long been known in physics. The attempt to develop a vowel siren was the result of a grant from the Hodgkins Fund of the Smithsonian Institution. It was the first step in the direction of an object that has not yet been attained, namely, to produce an organ that would sing the vowels. The idea was to make each tone from an organ pass through one of a series of vowel cavities, so that the organ would actually sing the vowels of a hymn as it was played in a cathedral or a church.

MR. A. C. MANNING ILL

From the Western Pennsylvanian we learn that Mr. A. C. Manning has had to undergo a slight operation. Mr. Manning is a member of the Board of Directors of the American Association to Promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf, and the Volta Bureau, along with his many friends. wishes him a speedy re

covery.

GIFTS TO THE VOLTA BUREAU

Mrs. L. J. Richardson, Berkeley, California, has presented to the Volta Bureau ten photographs of eminent old-timers in work for the deaf that will make a valuable addition to its large collection of portraits. Mrs. Richardson also sent copies of old school papers and some old pamphlets that were very acceptable.

If you have photographs of the pioneer teachers, send them to the Volta Bureau.

PROFES

ROFESSOR CALZIA, of the Phonetic Laboratory of the University of Hamburg, has just sent such an excellent photograph showing the method of using the laryngoscope that it really must be added to the fourth article in this series (THE VOLTA REVIEW, October, 1920). The beam from a small arc lamp falls upon the large round mirror on the right. It is reflected into the mouth of the person on the left. Here it is caught by the small throat mirror, held in the mouth by the small handle. It is then reflected downward upon the glottis. The person at the right looks through a hole in the round mirror directly along the beam of

light and sees the glottis. In front of the large round mirror is a small one. The person on the left can see her own glottis in this mirror. The tongue is held in a piece of cloth after being put out. The alcohol lamp at the rear is for slightly warming the throat mirror, so that it will not be obscured by moisture when used in the mouth.

The small arc lamp is of the kind used for ultramicroscopic work and for projections; it can be used on any house circuit. The stand with the two mirrors is a device of Professor Calzia's.

* See THE VOLTA REVIEW, October, 1920, page 640.

T

HIS IS a subject which has been of the utmost interest to educators of the deaf for over a century, as the more one gets to know the deaf, the more one discovers that their chief need is language, and yet more language. The problem of improving their knowledge of and use of language has produced papers innumerable all through the years, since it was demonstrated that deaf-mutes could be taught, and so no doubt it will go on in years to come.

What is this language we wish the deaf to use? Certainly not the "langwidge" reported to have been used by the cabby when the old lady gave him a penny in place of the usual tuppence; nor yet any of the learned languages, but simply the vernacular in use by his contemporaries. Language, written or spoken, is a method of social communication-a means to an end-ard is therefore primarily an art, although when considered in relation to the principles on which it is founded, it is also a science. An art is something to be done a science is something to be known. To attain any skill in an art, long-continued practice in the imitation. of good models is required, and this skill may come without any study of the principles which underlie it.

Thus, in regard to language, we find that child with all his faculties, brought up in cuitable surroundings and hearing nothing but correct models of spoken language, will develop the power of expressing his desires and emotions in correct and even beautiful language without having any knowledge of the rules of philology. This language the hearing child acquires without any great difficulty, in the natural manner, his ever-open ear catching everything that is said round about him-even more than he is intended to hear, sometimes—and, the natural reaction of his brain to these impressions resulting in imitation of what he hears, he, even before school age, has become possessed of a means of communi

* Read before the National College of Teachers of the Deaf, Birmingham, England, 1920.

cation sufficient for all his wants and enabling him to reason so deeply sometimes as to be embarrassing to those who are called upon to answer his questions.

But it is not with children such as this we are concerned. No, the object of our solicitude is the deaf child, who through the failure, in some way or another, of the avenue of hearing, comes to us at the age of seven-it may be looking as bright and bonny as his more fortunate hearing brother-but without a word of the language that other has acquired, and no way of conveying his wants but by some simple gestures.

By the person unacquainted with deafness, and all that it entails when it exists from birth or from infancy, this condition of the deaf child's mind can hardly be realized. These persons have not grasped the fact that deaf children do not acquire language as they themselves had done, "without thinking much about it." and many there be who look upon these children as possessing the same facility for expression, if only the key, which they usually visualize as the "Deaf and Dumb Alphabet," be used.

Indeed. I well remember a prominent educationalist in the hearing world visiting a school for the deaf, who, seeing some children who had been admitted to school a few weeks before, inquired if they had learned the manual alphabet. Being informed that they now knew the letters, he, proud of the fact that he possessed a knowledge of the manual alphabet-having acquired it as a secret code in his school-days, no doubt-now stepped in front of the class and spelt "How do you like school"? To his great surprise, not one child answered, but we who knew the deaf child only smiled. We were not surprised. In the same way, it is commonly believed, even now, by many excellent people, that when a teacher has laboriously taught a deaf child to speak a few words, or even to say the "Lord's Prayer," then there is nothing to prevent that child from saying. anything.

Again we teachers of the deaf smile, but it is a sad smile, for a vision comes up before us of the deaf child in the world around him, where his limitations in language are so little realized and where people say: "Well, he ought to know, for I have told him," when they may have used language forms quite beyond his comprehension, and therefore conveying no meaning to his brain.

No, the deaf child who has been trained to speak a few words or phrases, and these he may pronounce exceedingly well, indeed, has not received the key to unlock the floodgates of expression, but of him it might be said, "Though I speak with the tongue of men and angels, and have not language, yet am I but as a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal."

This condition of things has been not entirely unknown, even in schools for the deaf where we have had people who have prided themselves upon their ignorance of the children whom they have professed to teach. "I don't know a single sign," so they have said; then how could they understand children who have as yet no other means of expression, and it is easy to see how these may fall into the mistake of thinking that their deaf pupils ought to know things because they have been told them. We must not refuse to make use of the pupils' mode of expression until we have given them a better way of expressing their ideas. Then the teacher should become wisely ignorant of signs, and able only to understand ideas expressed in the newly acquired medium of language.

To us, then, is set the task of giving to these children, with a seven years' handicap in the race for language, and with the best means of winning that race taken from them, such a knowledge of language as shall be sufficient to carry them through the battle of life intelligently, and if possible to enjoy some of our priceless inheritance in the printed words. of those who are no longer with us, but who though "being dead yet speak."

This task is one that demands tremendous effort from both teacher and pupil. Immense concentration must be brought to bear upon the work if the pupils are to be made to respond readily to the teaching. The hearing child in his pre

school age learned his language somewhat promiscuously, picking up a bit here and a bit there, from this one or that, but to the deaf child the language must be brought direct, and fed to him at appropriate times, in judicious quantities, and of the requisite strength. For the guidance of the teacher, there should be a plan or syllabus to follow. This should be suggestive only and should not prescribe the actual work to be done. The initiative of the teacher must not be taken away, but he must be encouraged to prepare his lessons, following out the hints of the plan, but supplying his own subjects.

From the first the object of the teacher should be to insure correct imaging on the part of the pupil in regard to the words or phrases taught. The words and the objects or actions should be closely associated, and drawing may be made a valuable ally in aiding memory. The effort made by the child to reproduce the drawing of the object by the side of the word he has written in his book has a wonderful effect in imprinting the word on his memory. This imaging should go all through the work, so that the pupil may really understand what the language means. For instance, you ask a boy in school one day, "Where are you?" "I am in the class-room," he correctly replies. Next day you come across him in the field and ask him the same question, getting the same answer. What is wrong here? Clearly, a want of correct imaging.

You will ob erve I speak of writing very soon in the scheme of instruction, and I do so of set purpose. At seven years of age, or it may be eight or nine, there is no time to be lost in the race for language, and while every effort should be made to develop and encourage speech, this should be supplemented by the written word almost from the first.

The teacher should be keenly interested in things that interest the pupils. Sometimes it may be more profitable to leave the prearranged plan and follow the lead of the children, when their interest has been aroused, of course giving them new language for all they are telling you all the time. The teacher who "doesn't know any signs" will be at a loss here, as

the child must eke out the few words you may have taught him by gestures. Beware of saying at this stage, "You must not sign," for the pupil who is denied this liberty of communication in the early stages of his instruction will not readily become communicative later on.

The things the pupils want to know should be told them by speech, and then, not before, written down by the teacher or preferably by one of the pupils. This I should do, as the spoken word is liable to be misinterpreted by the pupils, and writing it down makes for certainty. "Ask a question," said a teacher to her class when some visitors were ushered into her class-room. One of the boys had the temerity to ask one of the visitors, a lady, how old she was. "You are a rude boy," said the teacher, upon which the boy smiled complacently, thinking she had said, "You are a good boy."

Though we work as hard as ever we can, it is impossible that we can bring language to our deaf pupil as constantly as it comes to a hearing one, and in spite of all our efforts his handicap remains; but if we could enable him to read, he would then have a way of supplementing the teacher's efforts and of helping himself toward the goal, the acquisition of a working knowledge of language. With this object in view, I should introduce little reading books as soon as possible, even during the first year at school. Lately I have discovered some very suitable little books for the junior classes. These are "The Teaching of English by the Direct Method," by David Thomas, and they might almost have been written. for our deaf children. We don't experience much difficulty in thus early introducing printed books, as it is customary, as a pastime, to let the pupils use "wordbuilding" letters, which they arrange to represent the words they have learnt.

As I have already said, the language must be brought to our deaf pupils grouped round certain pitfalls where they might have difficulty and where the teacher may show them how to pass safely. Many of these pitfalls are marked on the "chart" supplied to the teacher, and his duty is to draw up lessons that will help to render these pitfalls less formidable.

Language, we are told, is an art, and to attain to any skill in an art we must practise it. Therefore, if we wish our deaf pupils to learn the art of language, it is obvious that they must soon begin to practise it. This can be done both by speech and by writing, but the deaf pupil will soon be able to write more than he can speak, owing to the difficulty of enunciation, and if we were to insist that he should say all he writes we should tend greatly to "limit his output."

In the very lowest classes the teacher can set aside a column on her blackboard for incidental language, a few simple sentences on the weather, or anything in which the pupils can see the application. Very soon the pupils will volunteer to write down these sentences, and thereafter every child in the class should be deputed to do this every morning in turn. It is, I consider, highly important that the pupils should be encouraged to use language spontaneously. For some years I have required every child above the very junior classes to write something every day-in the higher classes this is to be something original-and the result has been very gratifying.

I do not need to expatiate to an audience such as this on the various devices we use as language carriers, but I may mention some for which I have a great affection. There is the short, simple story, with questions on it. The questions asked at first should be those where the answer can be found from the story. Later, questions should be asked to test the thinking powers, and to find out if the pupil has really understood the story. For instance, here is a story I once gave to a class of deaf children, and not a junior class either: "One fine moonlight night a boy was walking along a road. He saw something bright on the footpath. He thought it was a shilling, but when he picked it up he was disappointed to find that it was only a piece of tin.

Question. Where did the boy find the shilling?

All answered, "On the footpath"!

After a course of such questions they began to look deeper into things and were not so easily caught.

Another favorite lesson is to write down an incomplete sentence on the