At school, I was considered a very dull boy. My memory was not
retentive, and I comprehended ideas and formulas expressed by others
in a very imperfect manner. I needed a careful, judicious, and
patient teacher, who understood the character of my mind, and who
was able to come down to it with instruction in the simplest and
clearest forms; thus helping me to think for myself and to see for
myself. Instead of this, I was scolded and whipped because I could
not understand things that were never explained. As, for instance, a
slate and pencil were placed in my hands after I had learned to
read, upon which was a sum in simple addition for which I was
required to find an answer. Now, in the word, "Addition," as
referring to figures, I saw no meaning. I did not comprehend the
fact, in connexion with it, that two and two made four. True, I had
learned my "Addition Table," but, strangely enough, that did not
furnish me with any clue towards working out the problem of figures
set for me on my slate. I was then in my ninth year; and I can
remember, to this day, with perfect distinctness, how utterly
discouraged I became, as day by day went by, and still I had not
found a correct result to any one of my sums, nor gained a single
ray of light on the subject. Strange as it may seem, I remained for
several months in simple addition before I knew how to sum up
figures, and then the meaning of addition flashed, in a sudden
thought upon my mind, while I was at play. I had no trouble after
that. During the next week, I escaped both scolding and "belaboring"
(a favorite phrase of my teacher's), and then passed on to
subtraction. Five minutes devoted to an explanation, in some simple
form, of what "Addition" meant, would have saved me the loss of
months, to say nothing of the pain, both mental and bodily, that I
suffered during the time.