The New Education - A Review of Progressive Educational Movements of the Day (1915)

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Title: The New Education - A Review of Progressive Educational Movements of the Day (1915)
Author: Nearing, Scott, 1883-1983
Language: English
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* * * * *

THE NEW EDUCATION

A REVIEW OF PROGRESSIVE
EDUCATIONAL MOVEMENTS
OF THE DAY

SCOTT NEARING, Ph.D.

Wharton School, University of Pennsylvania

AUTHOR OF "SOCIAL ADJUSTMENT,"
"THE SUPER RACE," "WAGES IN THE UNITED STATES,"
"SOCIAL SANITY," "REDUCING THE COST OF LIVING," etc.

CHICAGO NEW YORK
ROW, PETERSON & COMPANY

* * * * *

PREFACE

During 1910, 1911, and 1912, as a part of a general plan to write a book
on education, I reread a great deal of the classical educational
literature, and carefully perused most of the current material in
magazine and book form. An interest aroused by undergraduate and
graduate work in the department of pedagogy had been whetted by the
revolutionary activity in every field of educational endeavor. The time
seemed ripe for an effective piece of constructive educational writing,
yet I could not see my way clear to begin it. Glaring faults there were;
remedies appeared ready at hand and easy of application; the will of an
aroused public opinion alone seemed to be lacking. By what method could
this wheel horse of reform best be harnessed to the car of educational
progress?

I was still seeking for an answer to this riddle when the editors of
"The Ladies' Home Journal" asked me to consider the preparation of a
series of articles. "We have done some sharp destructive work in our
criticisms of the schools," they said. "Now we are going to do some
constructive writing. We are in search of two things:--first, a
constructive article outlining in general a possible scheme for
reorganizing the course of study; second, a series of articles
describing in a readable way the most successful public school work now
being done in the United States. We want you to visit the schools, study
them at first-hand, and bring back a report of the best that they have
to offer. When your investigation is completed, we shall expect you to
write the material up in such a form that each reader, after finishing
an article, will exclaim,--'There is something that we must introduce
into our schools.'"

That was my opportunity. Instead of writing a book to be read by a
thousand persons, I could place a number of constructive articles before
two million readers. The invitation was a godsend.

The articles, when completed, formed a natural sequence. First there was
the general article (Chapter 3) suggesting the reorganization. Then
followed descriptions of the schools in which some such reorganizations
had been effected. Prepared with the same point of view, the articles
constituted an acceptable series, having a general object and a
connecting idea running throughout. What more natural than to write a
few words of introduction and conclusion, and put the whole in book
form? The style of the articles has been changed somewhat, and
considerable material has been added to them; but, in the main, they
stand as they were written--simple descriptions of some of the most
advanced school work now being done in the United States.

Looked at from any standpoint, this study is a collection of articles
rather than a book, yet there is sufficient relation between the
articles to give a measure of continuity to the thought which they
convey. In no sense is the work pedagogical or theoretical. It is, on
the contrary, a record of the impressions made on a traveler by a number
of school systems and schools. The articles purported to cover the most
progressive work which is being done in the most progressive schools.
Although the selection of successful schools was made only after a
careful canvass among the leading educators of the country, there are
undoubtedly many instances, still at large, which are in every sense as
worthy of commendation as any here recorded. This fact does not in any
way vitiate the purpose of the original articles, which was to set down
a statement of some educational successes in such a way that the lay
reader, grasping the significance of these ventures, might see in them
immediate possibilities for the schools in his locality.

Behind all of the chapters is the same idea--the idea of educating
children--an idea which has taken firm hold of the progressive educators
in every section of the community. The schoolmaster is breaking away
from the traditions of his craft. He has laid aside the birch, the three
"R's," the categorical imperative, and a host of other instruments
invented by ancient pedagogical inquisitors, and with an open mind is
going up and down the world seeking to reshape the schools in the
interests of childhood. The task is Herculean, but the enthusiasm and
energy which inspire his labors are sufficient to overcome even those
obstacles which are apparently insurmountable.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION. THE OLD EDUCATION 11

I. The Critical Spirit and the Schools 11

II. Some Harsh Words from the Inside 12

III. A Word from Huxley and Spencer 15

IV. Some Honest Facts 17

V. Have We Fulfilled the Object of Education? 22

CHAPTER I. THE NEW BASIS FOR EDUCATION 24

I. Can There Be a New Basis? 24

II. Social Change 25

III. Keeping Up With the Times 26

IV. Education in the Early Home 27

V. City Life and the New Basis for Education 28

CHAPTER II. TEACHING BOYS AND GIRLS 32

I. The New School Machinery 32

II. Rousseau Versus a Class of Forty 33

III. The Fallacious "Average" 34

IV. The Five Ages of Childhood 35

V. Age Distribution in One Grade 36

VI. Shall Child or Subject Matter Come First? 39

VII. The Vicious Practices of One "Good" School 40

VIII. Boys and Girls--The One Object of Educational Activity 42

CHAPTER III. FITTING SCHOOLS TO CHILDREN 44

I. Child Growth--A Primary Factor in Child Life 44

II. Children Need Health First 45

III. Play as a Means to Growth 46

IV. Some Things Which a Child Must Learn 48

V. What Schools Must Provide to Meet Child Needs 51

VI. The Educational Work of the Small Town 52

VII. The Educational Problems of an Industrial Community 55

VIII. Beginning With Child Needs 56

CHAPTER IV. PROGRESSIVE NOTES IN ELEMENTARY EDUCATION 58

I. The Kindergarten 58

II. Translating the Three R's 59

III. Playing at Mathematics 60

IV. A Model English Lesson 61

V. An Original Fairy Story 65

VI. The Crow and the Scarecrow 67

VII. School and Home 68

VIII. Breaking New Ground 71

IX. The School and the Community 72

X. New Keys for Old Locks 74

XI. School and Shop 76

XII. Half a Chance to Study 79

XIII. Thwarting Satan in the Summer Time 80

XIV. Sending the Whole Child to School 81

XV. Smashing the School Machine 84

XVI. All Hands Around for an Elementary School 86

XVII. From a Blazed Trail to a Paved Highway 90

CHAPTER V. KEEPING THE HIGH SCHOOL IN STEP WITH LIFE 92

I. The Responsibility of the High School 92

II. An Experiment in Futures 92

III. The Success Habit 95

IV. The Help-out Spirit 97

V. Joining Hands With the Elementary Schools 98

VI. The Abolition of "Mass Play" 101

VII. Experimental Democracy 103

VIII. Breaching [the] Chinese Wall of High School Classicism 105

IX. An Up-to-Date High School 107

X. From School to Shop and Back Again 109

XI. Fitting the High School Graduate Into Life 110

XII. The High School as a Public Servant 114

CHAPTER VI. HIGHER EDUCATION AT LOWVILLE 116

I. Lowville and the Neighborhood 116

II. Lowville Academy 117

III. The School's Opportunity 119

IV. Field Work as Education 120

V. Real Domestic Science 122

VI. One Instance of Success 123

CHAPTER VII. A GREAT CITY SCHOOL SYSTEM 125

I. "Co-operation" and "Progressivism" 125

II. An Educational Creed 127

III. Vitalizing the Kindergarten 129

IV. Regenerating the Grades 132

V. Popularizing High School Education 137

VI. A City University 140

VII. Special Schools for Special Classes 141

VIII. Special Schools for Special Children 144

IX. Playground and Summer Schools 145

X. Mr. Dyer and the Men Who Stood With Him 147

CHAPTER VIII. THE OYLER SCHOOL OF CINCINNATI 153

I. An Experiment in Social Education 153

II. An Appeal for Applied Education 156

III. Solving a Local Problem 157

IV. Domestic Science Which Domesticates 159

V. Making Commercial Products in the Grades 161

VI. A Real Interest in School 162

VII. The Mothers' Club 163

VIII. The Disappearance of "Discipline" 165

IX. The Spirit of Oyler 167

CHAPTER IX. VITALIZING RURAL EDUCATION 170

I. The Call of the Country 170

II. Making Bricks With Straw 171

III. Making the One-Room Country School Worth While 182

IV. Repainting the Little Red Schoolhouse 187

V. A Fairyland of Rural Education 188

VI. The Task of the Country School 193

CHAPTER X. OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES AND SUCKLINGS 195

I. Miss Belle 195

II. Going to Work Through the Children 196

III. Beginning on Muffins 197

IV. Taking the Boys in Hand 200

V. "Busy Work" as an Asset 201

VI. Marguerite 203

VII. Winning Over the Families 204

CHAPTER XI. WIDE-AWAKE SLEEPY EYE 207

I. Fitting Schools to Needs 207

II. Getting the Janitor in Line 208

III. The Department of Agriculture 209

IV. A Short Course for Busy People 212

V. Letting the Boys Do It 214

VI. A Look at the Domestic Science 214

VII. How It Works Out 216

VIII. Theoretical and Practical 217

CHAPTER XII. THE SOUTH FOR THE NEW EDUCATION 220

I. A Dream of Empire 220

II. Finding the Way 222

III. Jem's Father 224

IV. Club Life Militant 228

V. Canning Clubs 234

VI. Recognition Day for Boys and Girls 235

VII. Teaching Grown-Ups to Read 236

VIII. George Washington, Junior 237

IX. A Step Toward Good Health 239

X. Theory and Practice 242

XI. A People Coming to Its Own 249

CHAPTER XIII. THE SPIRIT OF THE NEW EDUCATION 251

I. The Standard of Education 251

II. Standardization Was a Failure 252

III. Education as Growth 254

IV. Child Needs and Community Needs 255

V. The Final Test of Education 257

THE NEW EDUCATION

INTRODUCTION

THE OLD EDUCATION

I The Critical Spirit and the Schools

"Everybody is doing it," said a high school principal the other day. "I
look through the new books and I find it; it stands out prominently in
technical as well as in popular magazines; even the educational papers
are taking it up,--everybody seems to be whacking the schools. Yesterday
I picked up a funny sheet on which there were four raps at the schools.
One in particular that I remember ran something like this,--

"'James,' said the teacher, 'if Thomas has three red apples and William
has five yellow apples, how many apples have Thomas and William?'

"James looked despondent.

"'Don't you know?' queried the teacher, 'how much three plus five is?'

"'Oh, yes, ma'am, I know the answer, but the formula, ma'am,--it's the
formula that appals me.'

"Probably nine-tenths of the people who read that story enjoyed it
hugely," continued the schoolman, "and they enjoyed it because it struck
a responsive chord in their memories. At one time or another in their
school lives, they, too, bowed in dejection before the tyranny of
formulas."

This criticism of school formulas is not confined to popular sources.
Prominent authorities in every field which comes in contact with the
school are barbarous in their onslaughts. State and city
superintendents, principals, teachers, parents, employers,--all have
made contribution to the popular clamor. On every hand may be gleaned
evidences of an unsatisfied critical spirit.

II Some Harsh Words from the Inside

The Commissioner of Education of New York State writes of the
schools,--[1] "A child is worse off in a graded school than in an
ungraded one, if the work of a grade is not capable of some specific
valuation, and if each added grade does not provide some added power.
The first two grades run much to entertainment and amusement. The third
and fourth grades repeat the work supposed to have been done in the
first two. Too many unimportant and unrelated facts are taught. It is
like the wearying orator who reels off stories only to amuse, seems
incapable of choosing an incident to enforce a point, and makes no
progress toward a logical conclusion.

"When but one-third of the children remain to the end of the elementary
course, there is something the matter with the schools. When half of the
men who are responsible for the business activities and who are guiding
the political life of the country tell us that children from the
elementary schools are not able to do definite things required in the
world's real affairs, there is something the matter with the schools.
When work seeks workers, and young men and women are indifferent to it
or do not know how to do it, there is something the matter with the
schools.[2]

"There is a waste of time and productivity in all of the grades of the
elementary schools."[3] "The things that are weighing down the schools
are the multiplicity of studies which are only informatory, the
prolongation of branches so as to require many text-books, and the
prolixity of treatment and illustration that will accommodate
psychological theory and sustain pedagogical methods which have some
basis of reason, but which have been most ingeniously overdone."[4]

Former United States Commissioner of Education, E. E. Brown, is
responsible for the statement that,--"With all that we have done to
secure regular and continuous attendance at school, it is still a mark
of distinction when any city is able to keep even one-half of the pupils
who are enrolled in its schools until they have passed even the seventh
grade."[5]

Here is an illustration, from the pen of a widely known educational
expert, of the character of educational facilities in the well-to-do
suburb of an Eastern city. After describing two of the newer schools
(1911) Prof. Hanus continues,--"The Maple Avenue School is too small for
its school population, without a suitable office for the principal or a
common room for the teachers, and, of course, very inadequately equipped
for the work it ought to do; it ought, therefore, to be remodeled and
added to without delay. The Chestnut Street School is old, gloomy,
crowded, badly ventilated, and badly heated, has steep and narrow
stairways, and it would be dangerous in case of fire. There are fire
escapes, to be sure, but the access to some of these, though apparently
easy in a fire drill, might be seriously inadequate and dangerous in
case of haste or panic due to a real fire. In such a building sustained
good work by teachers and pupils is very difficult....

"The High School is miserably housed. It is dingy, badly lighted and
badly ventilated. These defects constitute a serious menace to the
physical welfare of pupils and teachers and, of course, seriously
interfere with good work. It is crowded. Intercommunication is devious
and inconvenient. The building is quite unfit for high school uses. Some
of the school furniture is very poor; the physical and chemical
classrooms and laboratories are very unsatisfactory, and its biological
laboratory and equipment scarcely less so. The assembly room is too
small, badly arranged, and badly furnished. There are no toilet-rooms
for the teachers, and there is no common room. There is no satisfactory
or adequate lunch-room. The library is in crowded quarters; the
principal's office space is altogether too small, and his private office
almost derisively so."[6]

Overwork in the school is said to be alarmingly prevalent. "It is
generally recognized by physicians and educators to-day that many
children in the schools are being seriously injured through nervous
overstrain. Throughout the world there is a developing conviction that
one of the most important duties of society is to determine how
education may be carried on without depriving children of their health.
It is probable that we are not requiring too much work of our pupils,
but they are not accomplishing their tasks economically in respect to
the expenditure of nervous energy. Some experiments made at home and
abroad seem to indicate that children could accomplish as much
intellectually, with far less dissipation of nervous energy, if they
were in the schoolroom about one-half the time which they now spend
there. German educators and physicians are convinced that a fundamental
reform in this respect is needed. In fact, among school children we are
learning the same lesson as among factory employees, viz., that high
pressure and long hours are not economy but waste of time."[7]

The school has been rendered monotonous. "We have worked for system till
the public schools have become machines. It has been insistently
proclaimed that all children must do things the same way for so long a
time, that many of us have actually come to believe it. Children unborn
are predestined to work after the same fashion that their grandparents
did."[8]

III A Word from Huxley and Spencer

These are typical of a host of similar criticisms of the schools which
leading educators, men working within the school system, are directing
against it. Out of the fullness of their experience they spread the
conviction that the school often fails to prepare for life, that it
frequently distorts more effectively than it builds. The thought is not
new. Thomas Huxley asked, years ago, whether education should not be
definitely related to life. He wrote,--"If there were no such things as
industrial pursuits, a system of education which does nothing for the
faculties of observation, which trains neither the eye nor the hand,
and is compatible with utter ignorance of the commonest natural truths,
might still be reasonably regarded as strangely imperfect. And when we
consider that the instruction and training which are lacking are exactly
those which are of most importance for the great mass of our population,
the fault becomes almost a crime, the more so in that there is no
practical difficulty in making good these defects."[9]

Approaching the matter from another side, Tyler puts a pertinent
question in his "Growth and Education,--" "In the grammar grade is
learning and mental discipline of chief importance to the girl, or is
care of the body and physical exercise absolutely essential at this
period? No one seems to know, and very few care. What would nature
say?"[10]

Herbert Spencer answers Tyler's question in spirited fashion. "While
many years are spent by a boy in gaining knowledge, of which the chief
value is that it constitutes 'the education of a gentleman;' and while
many years are spent by a girl in those decorative acquirements which
fit her for evening parties; not an hour is spent by either of them in
preparation for that gravest of all responsibilities--the management of
a family."[11] "For shoe-making or house-building, for the management of
a ship or a locomotive-engine, a long apprenticeship is needful. It is,
then, that the unfolding of a human being in body and mind, may we
superintend and regulate it with no preparation whatever?"[12]

One fact is self-evident,--the existence of a body of criticism and
hostility is prima facia evidence of weakness on the part of the
institution criticised, particularly when the criticism comes strong and
sharp from school-men themselves. The extent and severity of school
criticism certainly bespeaks the careful consideration of those most
interested in maintaining the efficiency of the school system.

IV Some Honest Facts

Let us face the facts honestly. If you include country schools, and they
must be included in any discussion of American Education, the school
mortality,--i. e., the children who drop out of school between the first
and eighth years--is appalling. We may quarrel over percentages, but the
dropping out is there.

The United States Commissioner of Education writes,--[13] "Of
twenty-five million children of school age (5 to 18), less than twenty
million are enrolled in schools of all kinds and grades, public and
private; and the average daily attendance does not exceed fourteen
million, for an average school term of less than 8 months of 20 days
each. The average daily attendance of those enrolled in the public
schools is only 113 days in the year, less than 5-3/4 months. The
average attendance of the entire school population is only 80-1/2 days,
or 4 months of 20 days each. Assuming that this rate of attendance shall
continue through the 13 school years (5 to 18), the average amount of
schooling received by each child of the school population will be 1,046
days, or a little more than 5 years of 10 school months. This bureau
has no reliable statistics on the subject, but it is quite probable that
less than half the children of the country finish successfully more than
the first 6 grades; only about one-fourth of the children ever enter
high school; and less than 8 in every 100 do the full 4 years of high
school work. Fewer than 5 in 100 receive any education above the high
school."

Taking this dropping out into consideration, it is probable that the
majority of children who enter American schools receive no more
education than will enable them to read clumsily, to write badly, to
spell wretchedly, and to do the simplest mathematical problems
(addition, subtraction, etc.) with difficulty. In any real sense of the
word, they are neither educated nor cultured.

Judge Draper, Superintendent of Public Instruction in New York State,
writes,--[14] "We cannot exculpate the schools. They are as wasteful of
child life as are the homes. From the bottom to the top of the American
educational system we take little account of the time of the child....
We have eight or nine elementary grades for work which would be done in
six if we were working mainly for productivity and power. We have shaped
our secondary schools so that they confuse the thinking of youth and
break the equilibrium between education and vocations, and people and
industries.... In the graded elementary schools of the State of New
York, less than half of the children remain to the end of the course.
They do not start early enough. They do not attend regularly enough. The
course is too full of mere pedagogical method, exploitation and
illustration, if not of kinds and classes of work. The terms are too
short and the vacations too long.... More than half of the children drop
out by the time they are fourteen or fifteen, the limits of the
compulsory attendance age, because the work of the schools is behind the
age of the pupils, and we do not teach them the things which lead them
and their parents to think it will be worth their while to remain."

Observe that Judge Draper writes of the graded schools only. Could you
conceive of a more stinging rebuke to an institution from a man who is
making it his business to know its innermost workings?

These statements refer, not to the small percentage of children who go
to high school, but to that great mass of children who leave the school
at, or before, fourteen years of age. If you do not believe them, go
among working children and find out what their intellectual
qualifications really are.

One fact must be clearly borne in mind,--the school system is a social
institution. In the schools are the people's children. Public taxes
provide the funds for public education. Perhaps no great institution is
more generally a part of community interest and experience than the
public school system.

The most surprising thing about the school figures is the overwhelming
proportion of students in the elementary grades--17,050,441 of the
18,207,803. If you draw three lines, the first representing the number
of children in the elementary schools, the second showing the number in
the high school, and the third the number of students in colleges,
professional and normal schools, the contrast is astonishing.

It is perfectly evident, therefore, that the real work of education
must be done in the elementary grades. The high schools with a million
students, and the universities, colleges, professional and normal
schools with three hundred thousand more, constitute an increasingly
important factor in education; at the same time, for every seven
students in these higher schools, there are ninety-three children in the
elementary grades. The proportion is so unexpected that it staggers
us--more than nine-tenths of the children who attend school in the
United States are in the elementary grades! Can this be the school
system of which our forefathers dreamed when they established a
universal, free education nearly a hundred years ago? Did they foresee
that such an overwhelming proportion of American children would never
have an opportunity to secure more than the rudiments of an education?

Be that as it may, the facts glower menacingly at us from city, town and
countryside,--the overcrowded elementary grades and the higher schools
with but a scant proportion of the students. So, if we wish to educate
the great mass of American children, we must go to the primary grades to
do it.

There are, in the public schools, 533,606 teachers, four-fifths of whom
are women. These teachers are at work in 267,153 school buildings having
a total value of $1,221,695,730. Each year some four hundred and fifty
million dollars are devoted to maintaining and adding to this
educational machine.

The school system is the greatest saving fund which the American people
possess. The total value of school property is greater than the entire
fortune of the richest American. Each year the people spend upon their
schools a sum sufficient to construct a Panama Canal or a
transcontinental railway system. Thus the public school is the greatest
public investment in the United States.

It is one thing to invest, and quite a different matter to be assured a
fair return on the investment. Nevertheless, the individual investor
believes in his right to a fair return. From their public investments,
the people, in fairness, can demand no more; in justice to themselves,
they may accept no less. Are they receiving a fair return? The people of
the United States have invested nearly a billion dollars in the public
school system; each year they contribute nearly half a billion dollars
more toward the same end. Are they getting what they pay for?

Turn to another section of the Report of the Commissioner of Education,
and note how, in mild alarm, he protests against teachers' salaries so
low "that it is clearly impossible to hire the services of men and women
of good native ability and sufficient scholarship, training and
experience to enable them to do satisfactory work;" against the
schoolhouses, which are "cheap, insanitary, uncomfortable and
unattractive;" against "thousands of schools" in which "one teacher
teaches from twenty to thirty classes a day;" against "courses of study
ill-adapted to the interest of country children or the needs of country
life;" against "a small enrollment of the total children of school age,"
and a school attendance so low that "the average of the entire school
population is only 80-1/2 days per year."[15]

The tone of these statements is certainly not reassuring. Perhaps it is
high time that the citizens inquired into the status of their
educational securities--their public school system.

V Have We Fulfilled the Object of Education?

The object of education is complete living. A perfect educational system
would prepare those participating in it to live every phase of their
lives, and to derive from life all possible benefit. Any educational
system which enables men to live completely is therefore fulfilling its
function. On the other hand, an educational system which does not
prepare for life is not meeting the necessary requirements.

Charles Dickens, in his characteristic way, thus describes in "Hard
Times" a public school class under the title "Murdering the Innocents:"

"'In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but
Facts.'

"The speaker and the school master swept with their eyes the
inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in
order, ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them
until they were full to the brim. So Mr. M'Choakumchild (the
school master) began in his best manner. He went to work on this
preparatory lesson, not unlike Morgiana in the Forty
Thieves--looking into all the vessels ranged before him, one
after another, to see what they contained. Say, good Mr.
M'Choakumchild: when from thy store thou shalt fill each jar
brim full by and by, dost thou think thou wilt always kill
outright the robber Fancy lurking within, or sometimes only maim
him and distort him!"

Is the picture overdrawn? Are there grades in our large American cities
where conditions similar to those just portrayed may be found? Every
parent who has a child in the public schools, every taxpayer who
contributes to school support, has a right to a direct, impartial and
honest answer to that question.

Among educators as well as among members of the general public a spirit
of educational unrest has developed. Everywhere there is an ill-defined
feeling of dissatisfaction with the work of the schools; everywhere an
earnest desire to see the schools do more effectively the school work
which is regarded, on every hand, as imperative.

The facts of school failure are more generally known than the facts of
school success; yet there are successful schools. Indeed, some of the
school systems of the United States are doing remarkably effective work.
Emphasis has been lavished on the failure side of the educational
problem, until public opinion is fairly alive to the necessity of some
action. The time is, therefore, ripe for a positive statement of
educational policy. Many schools have succeeded. Let us read the story
of the good work. Efficient educational systems are in operation. Let us
model the less successful experiments on those more successful ones.

Circumstances force people to live in one place, to see one set of
surroundings and meet one kind of folks, until they are led to believe,
almost inevitably, that their kind is _the_ kind. Schools are the
victims of just such provincialism. Although the school superintendents
and principals, and some of the school teachers meet their co-workers
from other cities, the people whose children attend the schools almost
never have an opportunity to learn intelligently what other schools are
doing. This city develops one educational idea, and that city develops
another idea. Although both ideas may deserve widespread consideration,
and perhaps universal adoption, they will fail to measure up to the full
stature of their value unless the people in all communities learn about
them intelligently.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: "American Education," Andrew S. Draper, Boston;
Houghton Mifflin Co., 1909, pp. 281-83.]

[Footnote 2: Ibid., p. 275.]

[Footnote 3: Ibid., p. 281.]

[Footnote 4: Idem.]

[Footnote 5: The Responsibility of the School, E. E. Brown, U. S.
Commissioner of Education. A pamphlet privately printed in
Philadelphia, 1908, containing a series of addresses.]

[Footnote 6: Report on the Programme of Studies in the Public
Schools of Montclair, N. J., Paul H. Hanus, Cambridge, Mass., pp.
7 and 8.]

[Footnote 7: Report on National Vitality, Irving Fisher,
Washington Government Print., 1909, pp. 76-77.]

[Footnote 8: The Problem of Individualizing Instruction, W. F.
Andrew, Education, Vol. 26, p. 135 (1905).]

[Footnote 9: Evolution and Ethics, T. H. Huxley, New York, D.
Appleton & Co., 1902, p. 220.]

[Footnote 10: Growth and Education, J. M. Tyler, Houghton Mifflin
Co., New York, 1907, p. 21.]

[Footnote 11: Education, H. Spencer, New York, D. Appleton & Co.,
1861, p. 162.]

[Footnote 12: Supra, p. 63.]

[Footnote 13: Annual Report, U. S. Commissioner of Education,
1911; Washington Government Print., 1912, Vol. I, pp. 12-13.]

[Footnote 14: Conserving Childhood, Andrew S. Draper; The Child
Workers of the Nation, Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Conference
on Child Labor, Chicago, Ill., Jan. 21-23, 1909; New York, 1909,
pp. 9-10.]

[Footnote 15: Report U. S. Commissioner of Education, 1911, Vol.
I, p. 12.]

CHAPTER I

THE NEW BASIS FOR EDUCATION[16]

I Can There Be a New Basis?

Can there be a new basis for education? Does the foundation upon which
education rests really change? Is the educational system of one age
necessarily unfitted to provide for the educational needs of the next?
These, and a multitude of the similar questions which people interested
in educational progress are asking themselves, arise out of the process
of transition that is seemingly one of the fundamental propositions of
the universe. All things change, and are changing, from the smallest
cell to the most highly organized creature, the noblest mountain range,
and the vastest sun in the heavens. To-day differs from yesterday as
to-morrow must differ from to-day. All things are becoming.

Test this statement with the observed facts of life. Here is a garden,
well-planted and watered. The soil is loamy and black. On all its
surface there is nothing, save a clod here and there, to relieve the
warm, moist regularity. Come to-morrow and the level surface is broken
by tiny green shoots which have appeared at intervals, thrusting through
the top crust. Next week the black earth is striped with rows of green.
Onions, beets, lettuce, and peas are coming up. Go back to the hills
which you climbed in boyhood, ascend their chasmed sides and note how
even they have changed. Each year some part of them has disappeared
into the rapid torrent. Had you been there in April, you might have seen
particles of your beloved hills in every water-course, hurrying toward
the lowlands and the sea. While you watch them, the clouds change in the
sky, the sunset wanes, and the forest covers the bared hills. Nature,
fickle mistress of our destinies, spreads a never-ending panorama before
our eyes that we may recognize the one great law of her being,--the law
of progression.

II Social Change

How well does this principle of change apply to the organization of
society! The absolute monarchy of one age yields to the semi-democracy
of the next. Yesterday the church itself traded in men's
bodies,--holding slaves, and accepting, without question, the proceeds
of slavery. To-day machines replace men in a thousand industries.
To-morrow slavery is called into question, until in the dim-glowering
nineteenth century, men will struggle and die by tens of thousands;--on
the one side, those who believe that the man should be the slave; on the
other, those who hold that the slavery of the machine is alone necessary
and just. Thus is every social institution altered from age to age. Thus
is effected that transformation which men have chosen to call progress.

How profoundly does this truth apply to the raw material of
education,--the children who enroll in the schools! Under your very eyes
they lose their childish ways, feel their steps along the precipice of
adolescence, enter the wonderland of imagery and idealism, and pass on
into the maturity of life. How vain is our hope that the child may
remain a child; how worthless our prayer that adult life shall never lay
her heavy burden of cares and responsibilities upon his beloved
shoulders. Even while you raise your hands in supplication, the child
has passed from your life forever, leaving naught save a man to confront
you.

From these mighty scythe strokes which change sweeps across the meadows
of time, naught is exempt. The petals fall from the fairest flower; the
bluest sky becomes overcast; the greatest feats of history are
surpassed; and the social machinery, adequate for the needs of one age,
sinks into the insignificance of desuetude in the age which follows.
Thus does the inevitable come to pass. Thus does the social institution,
wrought through centuries of turmoil and anguish, become useless in the
newer civilization which is arising on every hand. The educational
system in its inception was well founded, but the changes of time
invalidate the original idea. Yesterday the school fulfilled the needs
of men. To-day it fails to meet a situation which reshapes itself with
each rising and each setting of the sun.

Each epoch must have its institutions. With the work of the past as a
background, the present must constantly reshape the institutions which
the past has bequeathed to it. These modified institutions, handed on in
turn by the present, must again be rebuilt to meet the needs of the
future; and so on through each succeeding age.

III Keeping Up with the Times

At times the march of progress is so rapid that even the most advanced
grow breathless with attempts to keep abreast of the vanguard. Again,
marking time for ages, progressive movements seem wholly dead, and the
path to the future is overgrown with tradition, and blocked by oblivion
and decay. The rapid advances of the nineteenth century, challenging the
quickest to keep pace, forced upon many institutions surroundings
wholly foreign to their bent and scope.

Nowhere is this more true than in the case of the educational system,
which had its rise in an age of individualized industry and governmental
non-interference, and now faces a newly inaugurated socialization of
industry and an impromptu system of government control.

The new basis of education lies in the changes which the nineteenth
century wrought in industry, transforming village life into city
dwelling, and substituting for the skilled mechanic, using a tool, the
machine, employing the unskilled worker. The men of the eighteenth
century made political institutions, and were content with democracy;
the men of the nineteenth century, accepting government as it stood,
built up a new industry. The society which we in the twentieth century
must erect upon the political and industrial triumphs of our
forefathers, can never be successful unless it recognizes the
fundamental character of the issues which nineteenth century industry
and eighteenth century politics have brought into twentieth century
life.

Is it too much to ask that the school stand foremost in this recognition
of change, when it is in the school that the ideas of the new generation
are moulded, tempered, and burnished? May we not expect that in its
lessons to the young our educational system shall speak the language of
the twentieth century rather than that of the eighteenth?

IV Education in the Early Home

Before the modern system of industry had its inception, while the old
hand trades still held sway, at a time when the household was the center
of work and pleasure, when the family made its butter, cheese, oatmeal,
ale, clothing, tools, and utensils,--in such an atmosphere of domestic
industry, Froebel wrote his famous "Education of Man." Note this
description of the way in which a father may educate his son. "The son
accompanies his father everywhere, to the field and to the garden, to
the shop and to the counting house, to the forest and to the meadow; in
the care of domestic animals and in the making of small articles of
household furniture; in the splitting, sawing, and piling up of wood; in
all the work his father's trade or calling involves."[17] In another
passage he calls upon parents, "more particularly fathers (for to their
special care and guidance the child ripening into boyhood is confided),"
to contemplate "their parental duties in child guidance;"[18] and he
prefaces this exhortation with a long list of illustrations, suggesting
the methods which may be pursued by the farm laborer, the goose-herd,
the gardener, the forester, the blacksmith, and other tradesmen and
craftsmen, in the education of their sons. Any such man, Froebel points
out, may take his child at the age of two or three and teach him some of
the simple rules of his trade. How different is the position of the son
of a workman in a modern American city! An American city dweller reading
Froebel's discussion would not conceive of it as applying in any sense
to him, or to his life.

V City Life and the New Basis for Education

The very thought of city life precludes the possibility of home work.
The narrow house, the tenement, the great shop or factory, on the one
hand, prevent the mechanic from carrying on his trade near his family;
and on the other hand, make it impossible for the father whose work
lies far from his home to give his boys the "special care and guidance"
about which Froebel writes.

The system of industry which was established in England during the
closing decades of the eighteenth century, and which secured a foothold
in both Germany and the United States during the first half of the
nineteenth century, has revolutionized the basis of our lives. The
workshop has been transplanted from the home to the factory; both men
and women leave their homes for ten, eleven, or even twelve hours a day
to carry on their industrial activities; great centers of population
collect about the centers of industry; the farm, the flock of geese, the
garden, the forest, and the blacksmith shop disappear; food, clothing,
and other necessaries of life--formerly the product of home
industry--are produced in great factories; and the city home, stripped
of its industrial functions, restricted in scope, robbed of its adults,
presents little opportunity for the education of the city child.
Standing on the threshold of his meager dwelling, this child of six
looks forward to a life which must be based on the instruction provided
in a public school system.

The country boy still has his ten-acre lot, where he may run and play.
There are flowers and freckles in the spring; kite-flying, fishing,
hunting, and trapping in summer and autumn. The general farm is a
storehouse of useful information in rudimentary form. From day to day
and from year to year the country boy may learn and enjoy.

The city boy is differently situated. His playground is the street,
where he plays under the wheels of wagons, automobiles, and trolley
cars; or else he plays in a public playground in company with hundreds,
or even thousands, of other children. Even then his activities are
restricted by city ordinances, monitors, policemen, and other exponents
of law and order.

The city home, whether tenement or single house, cannot begin to supply
the opportunities for growth and development which were furnished by
life in the open. Where else, then, does the responsibility for such
growth and development rest than upon the school? On the farm the boy
learned his trade, as Froebel suggests, at the hands of his father. The
father of the city boy spends his working hours in a mill, or in an
office, where boys under fourteen or sixteen are forbidden by law to go.
The city home is unavoidably deprived of the chance to provide adequate
recreation or adequate vocational training for its children. The burden
in both cases shifts to the school.

A hundred years ago practically all industries were carried on in
connection with the home. The weaver, the carpenter, the hatter, the
cobbler, the miller, lived and worked on the same premises. Then steam
was applied to industry; the machine replaced the man; semi-skilled and
unskilled labor replaced skilled labor; great numbers of men and women,
and even of children, crowded together in factories to spin thread, make
bolts and washers, weave ribbon, bake bread, manufacture machinery, or
do some one of the many hundreds of things now done in factories. The
change from home industry to factory industry is well named the
Industrial Revolution. It completely overturned the established and
accepted means of making a living.

The industrial upheaval has changed every phase of modern life. Industry
itself has replaced apprenticeship by a degree of specialization
undreamed of in primitive life. From the superintendent to the office
boy, from the boss roller to the yard laborer, from the chief clerk to
the stenographer, the work of men and women is monotonous and
specialized. The city has grown up as a logical product of an industrial
system which centers thousands, or even tens of thousands, of workmen in
one place of employment. The city home differs fundamentally from the
country home as the city differs from the country.

The changes now going on in farming are no less significant than those
which the nineteenth century witnessed in manufacturing. Science has
been applied to agriculture. Old methods are brought into question.
Intensive study and specialization are widespread. The time has passed
when a farmer can afford to neglect the agricultural bulletins or
papers. To be successful, he must be a trained specialist in his line,
and the school and college are called upon to provide the training.

No individual is responsible for these changes. They have come as the
logical product of a long series of discoveries and inventions. New
methods, built upon the ideas and methods of the past, have created a
new civilization.

The civilized world, reorganized and reconstituted, rebuilt in all of
its economic phases, demands a new teaching which shall relate men and
women to the changed conditions of life. This is the new basis for
education,--this the new foundation upon which must be erected a
superstructure of educational opportunity for succeeding generations. It
remains for education to recognize the change and to remodel the
institutions of education in such a way that they shall meet the new
needs of the new life.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: Portions of this chapter originally appeared in The
Journal of Education.]

[Footnote 17: "The Education of Man," F. Froebel. Translated by
W. N. Halliman, New York; D. Appleton & Co. 1909, p. 103.]

[Footnote 18: Ibid., p. 187.]

CHAPTER II

TEACHING BOYS AND GIRLS

I The New School Machinery

The influence which the industrial changes of the past hundred years has
had on education is considerable. With the transformation of the home
workshop into the factory has come the transition from rural and village
life to life in great industrial cities and towns. The introduction of
specialized machinery has placed upon education the burden of vocational
training. More important still, it has so augmented the size of the
educational problem that an intricate system of school machinery has
been devised to keep the whole in order.

The rural, or village, school was a one or two-room affair, housing a
handful of pupils. Aside from matters of discipline, the administration
of the school was scarcely a problem. General superintendents, associate
superintendents, compulsory attendance laws, card index systems, and
purchasing departments were unknown. The school was a simple, personal
business conducted by the teacher in very much the same way that the
corner grocer conducted his store--on faith and memory.

The growth of cities and towns necessitated the introduction of
elaborate school machinery. In place of a score of pupils, thousands,
tens, and even hundreds of thousands were placed under the same general
authority. City life made some form of administrative machinery
inevitable.

The increasing size of the school system,--and in new, growing cities
the school system increases with a rapidity equal to the rate of growth
of the population,--leads to increase in class size. A school of twenty
pupils is still common in rural districts. In the elementary grades of
American city schools, investigators find fifty, sixty, and in some
extreme cases, seventy pupils under the charge of one teacher, while the
average number, per teacher, is about forty.

Recrimination is idle. The obvious fact remains that the rate of growth
in school population is greater than the rate of growth in the school
plant. The schools in many cities have not caught up with their
educational problem. The result is a multiplication of administrative
problems, not the least of which is the question of class size.

II Rousseau Versus a Class of Forty

A toilsome journey it is from the education of an individual child by an
individual teacher (Rousseau's Emile) to the education of forty children
by one teacher (the normal class in American elementary city schools).
Rousseau pictured an ideal; we face a reality--complex, expanding, at
times almost menacing.

The difference between Rousseau's ideal and the modern actuality is more
serious than it appears superficially. Rousseau's idea permitted the
teacher to treat the child as an individuality, studying the traits and
peculiarities of the pupil, building up where weakness appeared, and
directing freakish notions and ideas into conventional channels. The
modern city school with one teacher and forty pupils places before the
teacher a constant temptation, which at times reaches the proportions of
an overmastering necessity, to treat the group of children as if each
child were like all the rest. A teacher who can individualize forty
children, understand the peculiarities of each child, and teach in a way
that will enable each of the children to benefit fully by her
instruction, is indeed a master, perhaps it would be fairer to say a
super-master in pedagogy. A class of forty is almost inevitably taught
as a group.

There is another feature about the large school system which is even
more disastrous to the welfare of the individual child. Rousseau studied
the individual to be educated, and then prescribed the course of study.
The city teacher, no matter how intimately she may be acquainted with
the needs of her children, has little or no say in deciding upon the
subjects which she is to teach her class. Such matters are for the most
part determined by a group of officials--principals, superintendents,
and boards of education,--all of whom are engaged primarily in
administrative work, and some of whom have never taught at all, nor
entered a psychological laboratory, nor engaged in any other occupation
that would give first-hand, practical, or theoretical knowledge of the
problems encountered in determining a course of study.

A course of study must be devised, however, even though some of the
responsible parties have no first-hand knowledge of the points at issue.
The method by which it is devised is of peculiar importance to this
discussion. The administrative officials, having in mind an average
child, prepare a course of study which will meet that average child's
needs. Theoretically, the plan is admirable. It suffers from one
practical defect,--there is no such thing as an average child.

III The Fallacious "Average"

Averages are peculiarly tempting to Americans. They supply the same
deeply-felt want in statistics that headlines do in newspapers. They
tell the story at a glance. In this peculiar case the story is
necessarily false.

An average may be taken only of like things. It is possible to average
the figures 3, 4, and 8 by adding them together and dividing by 3. The
average is 5. Such a process is mathematically correct, because all of
the units comprising the 3, 4, and 8 are exactly alike. One of the
premises of mathematics is that all units are alike, hence they may be
averaged.

Unlike mathematical units, all children are different. They differ in
physical, in mental, and in spiritual qualities. Their hair is different
in color and in texture. Their feet and hands vary in size. Some
children are apt at mathematics, others at drawing, and still others at
both subjects. Some children have a strong sense of moral
obligation,--an active conscience,--others have little or no moral
stamina. No two children in a family are alike, and no two children in a
school-room are alike. After an elaborate computation of hereditary
possibilities, biologists announce that the chance of any two human
creatures being exactly alike is one in five septillions. In simple
English, it is quite remote.

IV The Five Ages of Childhood

A very ingenious statement of the case is made by Dr. Bird T. Baldwin.
Children, says Dr. Baldwin, have five ages,--

1. A chronological age,
2. A physical age,
3. A mental age,
4. A moral age,
5. A school age.

Two children, born on the same day, have the same age in years. One is
bound to grow faster than the other in some physical respect. Therefore
the two children have different physical ages, or rates of development.
In the same way they have differing mental and moral ages. The school
age, a resultant of the first three, is a record of progress in school.
Even when children are born on the same day, the chances that they will
grow physically, mentally, and morally at exactly the same rate, and
will make exactly the same progress in school, are remote indeed. School
children are, therefore, inevitably different.

V Age Distribution in One Grade

A very effective illustration of the differences in chronological age,
in school age, and in the rate of progress in school is furnished in the
1911 report of the superintendent of schools for Springfield, Mass.
There are in this report a series of figures dealing with the ages, and
time in school, of fifth-grade pupils in Springfield. The first table
shows the number of years in school and the age of all the fifth-grade
pupils.

TABLE 1

_Age and Time in School, Fifth Grade, Springfield, December, 1911_

Years in Ages
School 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 Total
-----------------------------+---+-----------------------------------
1 .. .. .. .. .. ..| 1| .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 1
2 .. .. .. 2 1 1| 1| 2 2 .. .. .. .. .. 9
3 .. .. .. 6 38 25| 9| .. 1 1 .. .. .. .. 80
4 .. .. .. .. 162 200| 63| 12 10 3 .. .. .. .. 450
-----------------------------+---+-----------------------------------
5 .. .. .. .. 17 178|131| 47 14 2 .. .. .. .. 389
-----------------------------+---+-----------------------------------
6 .. .. .. .. 1 11|120| 60 29 3 .. .. .. .. 224
7 .. .. .. .. .. 1| 3| 46 29 8 1 .. 1 .. 88
8 .. .. .. .. .. ..| 1| 4 17 4 1 .. .. .. 28
9 .. .. .. .. .. ..| ..| .. .. 4 1 .. .. .. 5
10 .. .. .. .. .. ..| ..| .. .. 1 .. .. .. .. 1
11 .. .. .. .. .. ..| ..| .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
12 .. .. .. .. .. ..| ..| .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
13 .. .. .. .. .. ..| ..| .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
Total .. .. .. 8 219 416|329| 171 102 26 3 .. 1 .. 1,275
-----------------------------+---+-----------------------------------

Theoretically, children in Springfield enter the school at six, and
spend one year in each grade. If all of the children in the Springfield
schools had lived up to this theory, there would be 1,275 eleven years
of age, and 1,275 in the fifth grade. A glance at the table shows that
only 131, or about 10 per cent of the children, are both eleven years of
age and five years in the school. Among the 1,275 fifth-grade children,
389, or 31 per cent, have been in school five years, and 329, or 26 per
cent, are eleven years of age.

The superintendent follows this general table with other tables giving a
more detailed analysis of over and under age pupils, and of rate of
progress in school.

TABLE 2

_Age and Progress Groups of Fifth-Grade Pupils in Springfield,
December, 1911_

Rapid 435 34 | 74 6 | 31 2 | 540 42
Normal 195 16 | 131 10 | 63 5 | 389 31
Slow 13 1 | 124 10 | 209 16 | 346 27
--- -- | --- -- | --- -- | ----- ---
Total 643 51 | 329 26 | 303 23 | 1,275 100

The inferences from Table 2 are very clear. Of the 1,275 fifth-grade
pupils, 435, or 34 per cent, are not only under-age for the grade, but
they have progressed at more than normal speed. They are the
exceptionally capable pupils of the grade. At the other extreme we find
209 children, or 16 per cent of all in the grade, who need special
attention because they are both over-age and slow. Feeble-minded
children rarely advance beyond the second grade; hence we know that none
of these are feeble-minded, but among their number will be found many
who will be little profited by the ordinary curriculum; 110 of them are
already 12 years old, and 75 are 13 years old. A majority of them will,
in all probability, drop out of school as soon as they reach the age of
14, unless prior to that time some new element of interest is introduced
that will make a strong appeal; for example, some activity toward a
vocation.

A further study of the over-age column shows that 31 pupils, 2 per cent,
are over-age, but they have reached their present position in less than
usual time; while 63 of them, also over-age, have required the full five
years to reach their present grade position. Unless by limiting the
required work of these over-age pupils to the essentials, or by some
administrative arrangement involving special grouping with relatively
small numbers in a class, so that we can in the one case maintain, and
in the other case bring about, accelerated progress, there is little
likelihood that any large number will remain in school to complete the
ninth grade, much less take a high school course; for four years hence
their ages will range from 16 to 18 years. The 124 pupils who are of
normal age, but slow, are also subjects for special attention, for they
have repeated from one to three grades, or have failed to secure from
two to six half-yearly promotions, and are in danger of acquiring the
fatal habit of failure, if they have not already acquired it.

The superintendent then goes on to emphasize the imperative duty resting
on each principal, to examine and to understand the varying capacities
of individual children in his school. Without such an understanding real
educational progress cannot be made.

This study is most illuminating. Nothing could more effectually show
variation in individual children than the difference in one city grade
of the most obvious of characteristics--age and progress in school. The
infinitely greater variations in the subtle characteristics that
distinguish children can be more readily guessed at than measured. Under
these circumstances, the attempt to prepare studies for an "average
child" is manifestly futile. The course may be organized, but it will
hardly meet the needs of large numbers of the individual children who
take it.

VI Shall Child or Subject Matter Come First?

The old education presupposed an average child, and then prepared a
course of study which would fit his needs. The new education recognizes
the absurdity of averaging unlike quantities, and accepts the ultimate
truth that each child is an individual, differing in needs, capacity,
outlook, energy, and enthusiasm from every other child. An arithmetic
average can be struck, but when it is applied to children it is a
hypothetical and not a real quantity. There is not, and never will be,
an average child; hence, a school system planned to meet the needs of
the average child fits the needs of no child at all.

Mathematics may be taught to the average child. So may history and
geography. While subject matter comes first in the minds of educators, a
course of study designed to meet average conditions is a possibility.
The moment, however, that the schools cease to teach subjects and begin
to teach boys and girls, such a proceeding is out of the question.

The temptation in a complex school system, where children are grouped by
hundreds and thousands, to allow the detail of administration to overtop
the functions of education is often irresistible. The teacher with
forty pupils learns to look upon her pupils as units. The superintendent
and principals, seeking ardently for an overburdened commercial ideal
named "efficiency," sacrifice everything else to the perfection of the
mechanism. Among the smooth clicking cogs, child individuality has only
the barest chance for survival.

VII The Vicious Practices of One "Good" School

There are school systems in which organization has overgrown child
welfare, in which pedagogy has usurped the place of teaching. In such
systems the teacher teaches the prescribed course of study, whether or
no. The officers of administration, aiming at some mechanical ideal,
shape the schools to meet the requirements of system.

The proneness of some teachers and school administrators alike to
overemphasize mechanics, and to underemphasize the welfare of individual
children is well illustrated in a recent statement by Dr. W. E.
Chancellor, who, in writing of a first-hand investigation made in a city
in the Northeast, describes a condition which he says "I know by fairly
authoritative reports does exist in a considerable number of cities and
towns--not merely in a school here and there, but generally and
characteristically.

"In the city to which I definitely refer," Dr. Chancellor continues, "I
found that the intermediate and grammar grade teachers had
systematically, deliberately, and successfully sacrificed hundreds of
boys and girls upon the altar of examinations to the fetish of good
schools. They have been so anxious to have good schools that they have
kept an average of 20 per cent of their pupils one grade lower than they
belong. In some schools the average runs to above 35 per cent.

"Some teachers and some school superintendents cannot see that the
school is simply a machine for developing boys and girls; cannot see
that the machine in itself is worthless save as it contributes to human
welfare. A school may be so good as actually to damage the souls and
bodies of human beings. It damages their souls when the machine
operators, seeking 75 per cent in every subject, keep boys and girls in
grammar schools until they average sixteen years of age."[19] Dr.
Chancellor continues with a stinging arraignment of school officials who
sacrifice children to systems.

The article strikes an answering chord in the experiences of many men
and women. A friend came recently to our bungalow, and, with a troubled
face, spoke of his daughter's ill-health.

"She is not sick," he said, "but just ailing. These first May days have
taken her appetite. She needs the country air."

The daughter was a dear little girl of twelve--any one might have envied
the father of his treasure--and we offered to keep her with us for a
month in the country, and to go over her school work with her every day.
The father accepted our proposal on the spot, but two days later he came
back to say that he could not make the arrangements.

"It cannot be done," he explained, "because the school will not let her
off. I told the principal about my daughter's health and showed him the
advantage of a month in the country with her school work carefully
supervised. Her school is rather crowded, and as I want her to go on
with her class in the autumn, I asked him if he could arrange to keep
her place for her. In reply he said,--

"'I cannot do as you wish. Such cases as yours interfere seriously with
the working of the school.'"

VIII Boys and Girls--The One Object of Educational Activity

Perhaps our language was not as temperate as it should have been, but we
told that father something which we would fain repeat until every
educator and every parent in the United States has heard it and written
it on the tables of his heart,--

THE ONE OBJECT OF EDUCATION IS TO ASSIST AND PREPARE
CHILDREN TO LIVE.

Why have we established a billion-dollar school system in the United
States? Is it to pay teachers' salaries, to build new school houses, and
to print text-books by the million? Hardly. These things are incidents
of school business, but they are no more reason for the school's
existence than fertilizer and seed are reasons for making a garden.
Gardens are cultivated in order to secure plants and flowers; the school
organization of which Americans so often boast exists to educate
children.

"Of course," you exclaim, "we knew that before." Did you? Then why was
my friend forced to choose between the wreck of his daughter's health
and the disarrangement of a bit of school machinery? Why is Dr.
Chancellor able to describe a situation existing "generally and
characteristically," in which the welfare of children is bartered away
for high promotion averages? The truth is that society still tolerates,
and often accepts, the belief that the purpose of education is the
formation of a school system. We have yet to learn that, to use Herbert
Spencer's phrase, the object of education is the preparation of
children for complete living.

Education exists for the purpose of preparing and assisting children to
live. To do that work effectively, it must devote only so much effort to
school administration and to school machinery as will perform for boys
and girls that very effective service.

No two children are alike, and no two children have exactly similar
needs. There are, however, certain kinds of needs which all children
have in common. It is obviously impossible to discuss in the abstract
the needs of any individual child. It is just as obviously possible to
analyze child needs, and to classify them in workable groups. It is true
that all children are different; so are all roses different, yet all
have petals and thorns in common. Similarly, there are certain needs
which are common to all children who play, who grow, who live among
their fellows, and who expect to do something in life. The matter may be
stated more concretely thus,--

I. The school exists to assist and prepare children to live.

II. Living involves three kinds of needs, which it is the duty
of the school to understand and interpret.

1. Needs which the child has because he is a physical being.

2. Needs which result from the child's surroundings.

3. Needs which arise in connection with the things which the
child hopes to do in life.

A further analysis of these groups of needs constitutes the subject
matter of the next chapter.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 19: Sacrificing Children, W. E. Chancellor, Journal of
Education, Vol. 77, pp. 564-565 (May 22, 1913).]

CHAPTER III

FITTING SCHOOLS TO CHILDREN

I Child Growth--A Primary Factor in Child Life

In the first place children have certain needs because in common with
many other living creatures they develop through spontaneous,
self-expressive activity. The growth of children is a growth in body, in
mind and in soul.

During the first six years of life the bodies of children grow rapidly,
and during these years we wisely make no attempt to train their minds.
From six to twelve or thirteen body growth is slower, the mind is having
its turn at development, and during these years the children start to
school.

Then, at twelve or thirteen or fourteen, differing with different races
and different individuals, all normal children enter the fairyland of
adolescence. Life takes on new meanings, human relationships are closer,
great currents of feeling run deep and strong through the child's being,
because there is coming into his life one of the most wonderful of human
experiences--the dawning of sex consciousness.

This period of sex awakening produces a profound change in the lives of
boys, but it works an even greater transformation in the lives of girls.
For both sexes it is a time of rapid physical growth and of severe
mental and spiritual strain. It is a time when the energies of the body
are so entirely devoted to the development of sex functions that great
mental stress should above all things be avoided, yet it is at this
very time--think of it!--when we send our boys and girls to high school,
and force them to spend a great part of their waking hours in severe
intellectual efforts.

II Children Need Health First

Had we set out with the deliberate intention of torturing our children
we could have devised no better method. If we had applied ourselves to
physiology, found out the time when the child needed the most energy for
physical growth and the most relief from mental strain, and had then set
out to plan a course of study which would wreck his health, we should
have built a school system which gave him the comparatively easy work of
the elementary grades until he was fourteen, and then, at the most
critical period of his life, sent him into a new system of schools to
study new, abstract subjects.

What is it that our children must have before they can acquire anything
else? Health! We cry the word aloud, emphasizing and exhorting--nothing
without health! Yet, despite our protest, at a period of rapid physical
growth, at the time of severe spiritual trial, there yawns the high
school--grim for boys, ghastly for girls--with its ever-recurring
demand: "Work, study; study, work."

Considering the child's physical welfare, the high school is placed at
exactly the point (fourteen to eighteen years) where it is best
calculated to destroy the delicate balance of sanity, rendering its
victims unable to stand the burden and heat of life's later day.

We cannot escape the fact that children have bodies. The first duty of
the schools, therefore, is to recognize the existence of these bodies by
giving them due attention, particularly at the crucial periods of
physical growth. Therefore every school must provide as much physical
training as is necessary to insure normal body growth at each particular
age.

Then there are certain rules of health--"hygiene," they are
called--which should be taught to every child. Since bodies do not stay
normal if they are abused every child should have right ideas of body
care.

Most important of all, the schools must instruct children in sex hygiene
because the growth of sex consciousness is one of the most significant
of the changes which occur in the life of a child.

"But must sex hygiene be taught in the school?" you will ask.

Undoubtedly it must. If it were a choice between sex instruction in the
home or in the school, there would be no hesitation about delegating it
to the home; but since most homes neglect the discussion of sex matters,
leaving the children to gain their knowledge of sex from unreliable
sources on the streets, the choice lies between the perversion of sex as
it is taught on the streets, and the science of sex as it should be
taught in the schools.

III Play as a Means to Growth

Children's minds grow as well as their bodies--grow in retention, in
grasp, and in power. Memory work (the learning of poems, songs, and
formulas) helps to make minds more retentive, while all studies, but
particularly number work, increase mental grasp and power.

Besides body growth and mind growth all children have soul growth. They
develop human sympathy, and they are interested in esthetic things. To
supply these needs the school must give the child literature and art.
Simple these lessons must be, particularly in the elementary grades; but
there is scarcely a child who will not respond to the noble in
literature or the beautiful in art if these things are presented to him
in an understandable way.

The bodies, minds, and souls of children grow. They are all sacred. Each
child needs a normal body, an active mind, a healthy and a beautiful
soul. We dare not develop bodies at the expense of minds and souls, but
neither may we educate minds at the expense of souls and bodies--a
tendency which has been fearfully prevalent in American education.

The most valuable means of securing this all-important growth is "play,"
which Froebel said contained the germinal leaves of all later life.
Growth comes only through expression. One does not develop muscle by
watching the strong man in the circus, but by exercising. The child's
chief means of expression is through play, hence play is the child's
method of securing growth.

In their earliest infancy children play. Their frolics and antics are
really "puppy play," the product of overflowing life and animal spirits.
At this "puppy play" stage, when the child plays merely to work off
surplus energy, the most essential thing is a place to play, and the
school must meet this need by providing playgrounds.

As children grow older they turn to a more advanced type of play.
Instead of romping and frolicking individually they play in groups. It
is in these group plays that the child gets his first idea of the duty
which he owes to his fellows, his first glimmering of a social sense. In
the home and in the school he is in a subordinate position, but in the
"gang," or "set," he is as good as the next. Group play teaches
democracy. More than that, group play has a moral value. Each one must
play fair. Those who do not are ruthlessly ostracized, so children learn
to abide by the decision of the crowd. While children's plays should be
as untrammeled as possible, it is the duty of the school to stimulate
group play by suggesting new games, organizing athletic meets, getting
up interclass sports, and in other ways supervising and directing games
and sports.

In the course of the child's life play takes another form, the form of
creative work. Boys build wagons and houses; girls cook, and make dolls.
The "puppy play" of their early childhood has evolved into a form of
creative activity that sooner or later grips every human creature. We
want to plant, to build, to plan, to make. It is the creative power
within us yearning for expression, hence the well-planned school will
provide simple forms of manual training by means of which both boys and
girls will be taught to use their hands so skillfully that they may
translate an idea into a concrete product.

Civilization has been described as the art of playing. Big folks are apt
to look down on play because most of it is done by children. But listen,
big folks: When Anna plays dolls she does it in a frank, serious,
whole-souled way that you seldom imitate. There is no activity so vital
to the child as play, nor does any man succeed at his work unless he can
"play at it" with the fervor and abandon of a child.

IV Some Things Which a Child Must Learn

So much for the needs which a child has because he is a living creature.
Suppose we turn now to some other needs--the needs which arise because
the child is in a great universe and surrounded by his fellowmen.
Wherever a child lives and whatever he does he must always face certain
surrounding conditions. First among his surroundings are people. No one
except Robinson Crusoe can get away from people, and even Crusoe had his
man Friday.

Since we are compelled, whether we like it or not, to live with people,
the school must teach language (oral and written), in order that the
children may learn to tell others what they think, and may likewise
understand the thoughts of others. The better the language the more
clearly can they understand each other.

In order that children may have a proper respect for the rights of
others the school should teach ethics by means of simple stories about
people. Teachers should explain how men live in groups, and how, if
group life is to be tolerable, men must respect each other's rights.

Perhaps in the upper elementary grades, and certainly in the high
school, there should be some simple work in psychology in order that
children may know how people's minds work.

Then besides the people of the present there are the people of the past,
and, because the things which they did enable us to live as we do,
children should be taught history, particularly the history of their own
country, state, and town.

The child comes into contact, in addition to people, with the
institutions which people have constructed--the home, the school, the
state, the industrial system. Every child who grows to maturity will
participate in the activity of these institutions, hence every child
should be taught about them. In the last two years of the elementary
grades civics can be successfully taught, since even at twelve years
children are interested in the things which are happening around them.
In the high schools this work can be carried much further in the form of
social and industrial problem courses.

The most universal and by far the largest of the child's surroundings
consist of the things about him. He lives in a world, a very little
world to be sure, but to him it is great; and a knowledge of the world
comes through a study of geography. Beginning with the geography of his
native town (not with the basin of the Ganges) he can learn successively
about the geography of the county, the state, the country, and then of
the world.

Surrounding the child on every hand are plants and animals. Nature study
gives him an intelligent interest in them. As he grows older general
nature study may be subdivided into geology, botany, zoology; and the
forces of nature may be examined in astronomy, chemistry, and physics:
but most of these subjects are too specialized for the elementary
grades, and should appear, if at all, in the high schools.

There is a group of courses which belongs in every school--elementary
school as well as high school--namely, the courses which prepare
children for life activity. Growth and training in the art of living
enable children to fulfill the third function of their being--that of
doing. Every man and every woman needs work in order to live, and it is
a part of the duty of education to prepare them for that work.

First of all, as modern society has developed, every man and many women
need an income-producing trade or occupation; hence it is the duty of
the schools to provide trade and professional educations (really the
same thing under different names). No child should be permitted to leave
the schools until he is proficient in some income-giving work. The
character of the teaching must be altered to suit the locality, but the
principle is absolute.

Further, since men should not devote their entire lives to the same
task, because they require a change of occupation, the school should aim
to provide an avocation, or secondary occupation, which may occupy
leisure hours. Manual training, agriculture, art work, and civics will
supply different people with occupations for spare time.

Finally, since one of the chief duties of society is to insure a healthy
and increasingly valuable supply of human beings, no one should leave
the schools without a thorough domestic training, including training for
parenthood. While this training should be given in a measure to boys, it
should be intended primarily for girls, and should include biology,
hygiene, chemistry, dietetics, psychology, and nursing. Although the
elementary grades can provide only the simplest training along these
lines that training should be given to every future housekeeper and
mother.

V What Schools Must Provide to Meet Child Needs

If, up to this point, we have rightly described child needs, the school
must be so organized as to provide for growth and play, for instructing
the child in a knowledge of people, institutions, things and ideas, and
for preparing every child to do his work in life.

These subjects must be so apportioned over the grades that each child
has the benefit of them. The high school is a continuation of the
elementary school. It is in the high school that children should begin
to specialize, because specialization before the beginning of
adolescence is undesirable; but since, in many localities, almost all of
the children leave before reaching the high school, these subjects must
be taught in the elementary grades. Certain things every child must
know. If he is going to drop school at fourteen, as three-quarters of
the American school children do, he must be reached in the first eight
school grades. If he goes to high school he may there be given an
opportunity to complete and intensify the education which the elementary
school has started.

We believe that these fundamental principles of education are
sufficiently flexible to fit any community in the United States; they
will apply to places of the most divergent school needs.

VI The Educational Work of the Small Town

Let us begin by applying the scheme to a mining village of three
thousand inhabitants, a typical industrial community.

In this village more than nine-tenths of the children leave school at or
before fourteen years of age, so that whatever school training they get
must be secured between the ages of six and fourteen.

The kind of activities that the children will take up in life is fixed
by the custom of the town. The great majority of the boys go into the
mines or shops, while practically all of the girls help around the home
until they marry. A small number work in stores and factories.

The life is rather primitive; the houses are set far apart; the children
have an abundance of play space; they are required to do chores in homes
where they receive little home training. The town affords an
unparalleled opportunity to learn nasty things in a nasty way.

Almost all of the educational work in such a town must be done in the
elementary schools. While high school facilities may be afforded they
will appeal to a vanishingly small percentage of the children.

The elementary schools in such a village must provide organized games
for the younger children and organized sports for the older ones; a
sufficient amount of physical training to insure robust bodies; careful
instruction in physiology, body hygiene, and sex hygiene; simple manual
training for the younger children; thorough preparation in the reading
and writing of English; the fundamentals of numbers; geography with
particular reference to the geographic conditions in the immediate
locality; civics and history--particularly American history; a thorough
drill in English and American literature; a minimum amount of
instruction in fine art--drawing, painting, modeling; an extensive
system of nature study, supplemented by field trips.

This course should be required of boys and girls alike. In addition to
these studies the boys in a coal-mining village should receive careful
instruction in geology, particularly in the mineralogy of the region in
which the mine is located; technical training in mining, drafting, and
shop work; and a sufficient training in agriculture to enable them to
make good kitchen gardens, since gardening is one of the chief
avocations of men in such a community.

Parallel to this special training for boys the schools should provide
for girls a thorough course in domestic science, with particular
emphasis on economical purchasing, and an education for parenthood,
including hygiene, dietetics, psychology, and nursing.

Such a course of study given in a typical mining village would tend to
make of the boys educated, trained workmen, and of the girls educated,
trained mothers. To be sure this course would not make of the boys
railroad presidents or United States senators; but even that is not a
drawback because, incredible as it may sound to many old-fashioned
ears, the vast majority of these boys will be miners and mechanics. The
question is, therefore, Shall they be good miners or bad ones? United
States senatorships bother them not a whit.

If there are, as there always will be in such a village, a few
exceptional children who desire more advanced work, the teacher can do
exactly what he does now--namely, give them special instruction.

Such an educational system as that outlined would require more training
in the teachers, and an additional outlay for tools and school-rooms,
but it would train the boys and girls of the village to live their lives
effectively.

The mine-village educational problem is rendered especially easy of
solution because the community is small in size, and because there are
only two occupations, mining and homekeeping, into which the children
go.

A similar situation may be found in most of the agricultural districts,
except that the boys take up farming instead of mining, while the girls
are called upon to participate in farm work to the extent of caring for
chickens and pigs, and sometimes for milk. In such an agricultural
community the same outline for study might apply, except that in
training for occupations boys should be taught the facts regarding soil
fertility, fruit culture, dairying, market gardening, and other
agricultural problems, while girls need instruction which will fit them
for domestic life and for parenthood.

In New York State a number of agricultural high schools giving a course
such as the one just hinted at, have met with marked success. Most
country children do not go to high school, however--although they are
doing so in increasing numbers--and hence the necessity for shaping the
elementary course along similar lines.

VII The Educational Problems of an Industrial Community

When the mining village and the farming district are replaced by the
industrial town and the city, the school problem is greatly complicated
by the crowding of many people into a small space and by the great
diversity of occupations which the people pursue. The larger the town
the worse the crowding and the greater the variety of jobs. Otherwise
the problem of education remains largely the same.

The most apparent need of the town child is a place to play, and the
plainest duty of the town elementary school is to provide play space. In
thinly settled places there is no such need. In towns and cities there
is no more imperative duty resting on the school than the furnishing of
playgrounds and gymnasiums for children. The practice of building school
houses without gymnasiums and without play spaces cannot be too strongly
condemned. It is robbing children of the chance to grow into normal
human beings.

The other side of the town problem--the question of occupations--has
been settled in Germany, and more recently in certain American cities,
by the "continuation" school, which unties the Gordian knot by cutting
it. Instead of allowing children to stop school at fourteen the
"continuation" system requires partial school attendance until they are
eighteen.

Under this system, when children reach the end of the elementary schools
they may either go on with a high school course for four years, or else
they may take a "continuation" course for four years.

For example, if a boy elects to be a carpenter he spends forty hours a
week as a carpenter's apprentice. Then for fourteen hours a week he goes
to a school where he is taught mechanical drawing, designing, the
testing of materials, and any other subjects which bear on carpentering.
The time he spends in school is credited on the time sheets of his
employer.

So at the end of four years the boy, at eighteen, has been well trained
in the practice of carpentering by working at his job, and well schooled
in its theory by taking a "continuation" course which bore directly on
his work. Thus wage-earning and education are united to produce a
well-trained man.

The school problem of the city suburb is very different from that of the
mining village, the rural community, the industrial town, or the city.
The children have space, good homes, and abundant opportunity to go
through high school and even through college. Under these conditions the
elementary grades can be directly preparatory for high school work,
since six or even seven out of ten children will go to high school.

In the city suburb there need be little specialization in the elementary
grades. The high school, with a general course and two or three special
courses, can be relied upon for all necessary specific training.

VIII Beginning with Child Needs

In the industrial town, in the city, and in the city suburb the high
school is being looked to as the place where specialized training must
be given. The trade school can succeed a little, but its effectiveness
will always be limited by the narrow technical character of its
instruction, which makes the "continuation" school generally preferable.
The high school is not a separate institution, but an integral part of
the school system. In a high school, therefore, the children should move
naturally from the studies of the elementary grades to more advanced
studies, but the purpose of both elementary and high schools is the
same--the preparation of children for living.

Children have needs which the schools are here to supply. Certain of
these needs are common to all children, and to that extent all schools
must provide similar training. Other needs, varying with the size and
character of the community, call for a like variation in the course of
study.

CHAPTER IV

PROGRESSIVE NOTES IN ELEMENTARY EDUCATION

I The Kindergarten

No single chapter can contain all of the progressive notes that are
being sounded in American Elementary Education; yet it is possible,
after some arbitrary picking and choosing, to describe a number of the
most typical and most successful educational innovations. At the bottom
of most up-to-date elementary school systems is the kindergarten. Not so
often as it might be, but still frequently, the child begins school work
there. The games, the songs, the children's sports of these kindergarten
years, make a joyous entry-way into the grades. In Gary the kindergarten
child sees life. The flowers, leaves, grasses, lichens, fruits,
butterflies, moths, and birds are usually brought to the classroom. The
Gary children go on expeditions to explore nature's wonderland, besides
making excursions to squares, parks, and to the open country. The
kindergartners of Cincinnati plant tulip bulbs in the city parks, and
visit farms in order to have a chance to meet the farm animals. Singing,
visiting, playing, shaping, building, the kindergarten child sees life
on many sides. Perhaps, finally, other cities following the lead of
Cincinnati will introduce the kindergarten spirit and kindergarten
activities into the lower grades where they will clarify an atmosphere,
fetid and dank with concepts which to the six-year-old are meaningless
abstractions.

II Translating the Three R's

At best the kindergarten reaches but a few. Even in cities which boast
of a system of organized kindergartens, only a small portion of the
children attend them. On the other hand, since practically all school
children enter the grades, it is on them that an inquiry into elementary
education must be focused.

The time has passed when reading, writing, and arithmetic made up the
entirety of a satisfactory elementary education. Like the kindergarten,
the elementary school must touch life; like the kindergarten, it must
provide for child needs. Everywhere schools are turning from the old
methods of teaching spelling, multiplication, and syntax to the new
methods of teaching children,--yes, and teaching them those things which
they need, irrespective of name. Three R's no longer suffice. The child
requires training from the Alpha to the Omega of life.

Compare, for example, the old method of teaching geography with the new.
Under the abandoned system, the child began with capes, peninsulas,
continents, meridians, trade routes, rivers, boundaries and products.
Under the new system, he begins with the town in which he lives. Each
schoolroom in Newark, for example, is provided with a large map of the
city. In addition to these complete maps, each child is given a series
of small maps, each of which centers about a familiar square, store, or
public building. Then, from this simple beginning, the child fills in
the surrounding streets and buildings. Newark geography begins in the
third grade with a description of the school yard and the surroundings
of the school lot. After all, what more simple geography could be
conceived than the geography that you already know. Borneo and
Beloochistan are abstractions except to the most traveled, but what
child has not noted the red bricks and ugly iron fences surrounding his
own school yard? Charity and geography both begin logically at home.

When in the later Newark grades the children are taught about Europe and
Australasia, they are taught on a background of the geography of yards,
alleys, squares, streets and playgrounds with which they are familiar.
Geography thus concretely presented, becomes comprehensible to even the
dullest mind.

III Playing at Mathematics

The passing system of elementary mathematics took the innocents through
addition, subtraction and the abatis of multiplication tables, until
every child was fully convinced that

Multiplication is vexation,
Division's twice as bad,
The rule of three perplexes me,
And practice drives one mad.

To-day arithmetic begins with life. The teachers at Gary organize games
in which the children are divided into two sides. Some of the children
play the game, while others keep score. Unconsciously, under the stress
of the most gripping of impulses--the desire to win--these little
scorekeepers learn addition. As they advance in the work, they take up
practical problems--measure the room for flooring and measure the school
pavement for cementing. At school No. 4, in Indianapolis, one of the
teachers wanted a cold-frame and a hot-bed for use in connection with
her nature work. The class in mathematics made the measurements; the
drawing class provided the plans; the boys in the seventh and eighth
grades dug the pit and constructed the beds.

The higher grade mathematics work in Indianapolis is extremely concrete.
Prices and descriptions of materials are supplied, and the children are
asked to compute given problems involving the buying of meats,
groceries, and other household articles; the cost of heating and
lighting the home; the cost of home furnishing; the construction of
buildings; cost-keeping in various factories; the management of the city
hospital; the taxation of Indianapolis; the estimation and construction
of pavement; and, generally, the mathematical problems involved in the
conduct of public and private business.

Mathematics is alive when it is joined to the problem of life. Well
taught, it becomes a part of the real experiences of childhood and
furnishes a foundation for the knowledge of later life.

IV A Model English Lesson

Of all subjects taught in the schools, English is the most practical,
because it is most used in life. We buy with it, sell with it, converse
with it, write with it, adore with it, and protest with it. English is
the open sesame of life in English-speaking countries. In some classes
the English period would be fascinating even for adults.

What experience could be more delightful than a visit to a third or
fourth grade room in which the children were writing original poems,
fables and stories! The monotony of routine English work was completely
broken down; the children were enthusiastic,--enthusiastic to such a
degree that they had all written poetry.

Just before Halloween the teacher had distributed pictures of a witch on
a broomstick, with a cat at her side, riding toward the moon. Each
child was called upon for an original poem on this picture. One boy of
eight wrote:--

There was an old witch
Who flew up in the sky,
To visit the moon
That was shining so high.

Another child improved somewhat upon the versification--

The witch's cat was as black as her hat,
As black as her hat was he.
He had yellow eyes which looked very wise
As he sailed high over the trees.

How many of you mature men and women could have done a better piece of
work than Dorothy Hall, nine and a half years old?

THE MOONLIGHT PEOPLE

When the stars are twinkling,
And the ground with snow is white,
And we are just awaking
For to see the morning light;
Little moonlight people
Are dancing here and there
O'er a snow white carpet,
Dancing everywhere.

This same class of little people, after learning Riley's "Pixie People,"
were asked to write down what they believed were the circumstances under
which Riley composed the poem. Their reasons varied all the way from a
dream of butterflies, to cornfields.

Seventh and eighth grade children in this same city (Newton, Mass.)
write books, the titles of which are selected by the children with the
approval of the teacher. "A Boy's Life in New York," "Fairy Stories,"
"A Book About Airships," "A Story of Boarding School Life," are a few of
the titles. Having chosen his title, the child outlines the work and
then begins on it, writing it week by week, illustrating the text with
drawings, illuminating and decorating the margins with water colors,
painting a tasty cover, and at last, as the product of a year's work in
English, taking home a book written, hand printed, hand illumined,
covered and bound by the author. Could you recognize in this fascinating
task the dreaded English composition and spelling of your childhood
days?

One eighth grade lad, who had always made a rather poor showing in
school, decided to write his book on birds. As he worked into the
subject it gradually got hold of him. In the early spring he found
himself, at half past four, morning after morning, out in the squares,
the parks and the fields, watching for the birds. He became absorbed in
writing his book, but at the same time the teachers of other subjects
found him taking additional interest in them. The whole tone of his
school work improved; and when, in May, he delivered an illustrated
lecture, before one of the teachers' meetings, on the birds of Newton,
he was triumphant. In less than a year he had vitalized his whole being
with an interest in one study.

"In his talk to the teachers," said Superintendent Spalding, "he showed
a deeper knowledge of the subject than most of the teachers present
possessed."

Those who remember with a shiver of dread the syntax, parsing, sentence
diagramming, paragraph dissecting, machine composition construction of
the grammar grades, should have stepped with me into the class of an
Indianapolis teacher of seventh grade English. The teacher sat in the
back of the room. The class bent forward, attentively listening while a
roughly clad, uncouth boy, slipshod in attitude, stumbled through the
broken periods of his ungrammatical sentences.

"And Esau went out after a venison," he was saying, "and Jacob's mother
cooked up some goat's meat till it smelled like a venison. And then
Jacob, he took the venison--I mean the goat's meat to Isaac, and Isaac
couldn't tell it wasn't Esau because"--so the story continued for two or
three minutes. When it was ended, the boy stood looking gloomily at the
class.

"Well, class?" queried Miss Howes, "has any one any criticism to make?"

Instantly, three-quarters of the class was on its feet.

"Well, Edward."

Edward, a manly fellow, spoke quietly to the boy who had told the story.

"Paul, you don't talk quite loud enough. Then you should raise and lower
your voice more."

Several of the class (having intended to make the same criticism) sat
down with Edward. The teacher turned.

"Yes, Mary."

"Paul, your grammar wasn't very good. You didn't make periods."

One by one, in a spirit of kindly helpfulness, criticisms were made.
When the children had finished, Miss Howes said:

"Paul, you did very well. This is your first time in this class, isn't
it?"

"Yes'm."

"Yes, Paul, you did very well; but, Paul"--and with care and precision
she outlined his mistakes, suggesting in each case ways of avoiding them
in the future.

Throughout the grades in Indianapolis the children have some oral
English work every day. When they reach the seventh and eighth years
this oral work takes on quite pretentious forms. Beginning with Aesop's
Fables, the children tell fairy tales, Bible stories, Greek legends,
Norse legends, animal stories, and any other stories that the teacher
thinks appropriate. Each child may select in the particular group of
stories whatever topic seems most interesting.

Each day has its written English work, too. On Monday, letters are
written and criticized; Tuesday is composition day; on Wednesday each
scholar writes a description of the day in a Season Journal; Thursday is
set aside for the revision and correction of compositions; and on
Friday, the letters for the following Monday are written. Wherever
possible, the subjects for written work are selected with reference to
the other studies which the child is taking.

V An Original Fairy Story

The work is arranged primarily to arouse interest. At Halloween, the
theme is timely, and one girl, Dorothy Morrison, selects as her title,
"How the Witch got the Black Cat for her Prisoner." Read this charming
fairy tale--an original piece of work by a girl of twelve:

"Years ago, when the witch rode her broomstick, no snarling
black cat accompanied her on her midnight rides. That wicked
person was always planning and plotting how to get some nice
young girl to go with her.

"At this time there lived a beautiful fairy, who was condemned
to death by a cruel magician, who had no reason to do so. This
good fairy, Eilene, finally decided to take the shape of a bird
and to fly through the tiny window of her prison to her old
friend, Mr. Moon.

"She did so, and when she arrived at her friend's home she
assumed the form of a fairy and entreated him to keep her safe
from the cruel clutches of the magician.

"He promised to do his best.

"The next Halloween, the witch, Crono, rode up to the moon and
on spying Eilene she exclaimed, 'Aha, just what I have been
looking for--a nice young maiden.'

"Eilene became frightened at first and clutched the moon's hand.
Just then Crono grabbed at her, but she was too quick for her,
for she changed herself into a bird and flew out of the reaches
of the witch.

"Shaking her fist at the girl she muttered, 'I will get you
yet.'

"Then the witch returned to her caldron and Eilene returned to
the moon. Mr. Moon then advised her to be careful for Crono
wanted her for her prisoner. She did not heed this because she
thought that she could outwit Crono with all her fairy power,
but she was mistaken, for Crono had more power than she. One
day, while sitting at the moon's knee, listening to the story of
how he got up in the sky, Eilene's hands and feet were tied, and
before Mr. Moon could help her, what little power that fat
personage possessed was taken from him.

"Crono transformed Eilene into a snarling black cat which now
always accompanies her on her Halloween rides when she tells the
grinning Jack-o'-Lanterns of how she captured Eilene.

"Because Mr. Moon loved Eilene so well, Crono gave him a picture
of the fairy, which he always keeps near him, and even to this
day, if we look up at the moon, we can see the picture of
Eilene. So let us remember that, although the black cat does
appear fierce, she is really good at heart."

VI The Crow and the Scarecrow

When corn was sprouting, "Crows and Scarecrows" was announced as a
topic, and one Irish lad, giving rein to his imagination, wrote:--

THE CROW AND THE SCARECROW

"Having a story to write concerning a crow, I decided to go to
the zoological gardens and seek an interview with one of the
species. Accordingly I went, and after passing numerous cages
containing all kinds of animals, I arrived at the bird cages.
Here in one cage all by himself I met Mr. Crow. He was a big
bird with coal-black feathers that glistened in the sunlight.

"I made a bow, explained my errand and asked for a story. He
cocked his head to one side, looked steadily for a few seconds
and then actually winked at me. 'Well, young man,' he said in a
throaty voice, 'you have certainly come to the right place. But
as it is near my lunch time I must be brief.

"'In the first place, I was the leader of as wild and
mischievous a band of crows as you ever heard tell of. There was
one particular farm in our territory we loved to visit. The
owner's name was Silas Whimple and he was the grouchiest, most
miserly man in the county. He lived alone and what part of the
ground that was tilled, he did it himself. As much to tease as
to eat, we would pay him an occasional flying visit, digging up
his newly planted seeds, nibbling at the young green shoots, or,
later on, scratching up his potatoes. All his shouting and
screaming did not scare us a bit. One day one of my companions
came winging with the news that Silas had a farm hand. I laughed
and said, "If there is another man on the farm then Silas
Whimple must be dead." Off we flew to investigate. Sure enough,
out in a patch of potatoes was a man. Watching him quite a
while, I saw he did not move or make a noise as Silas would. He
just stood still. I came down to take a closer look, when who
should come to the doorway but Silas himself. He was laughing
and shouting, "Now I have something to keep you away. The
scarecrow shall keep you from bothering me any more." He laughed
and laughed, but I watched my chance and flew behind this being
and scratched off his cap. Then the story was out. It was only a
straw man. I went back to my companions and explained, and
before evening we had picked the scarecrow to pieces. Next day I
was unfortunate enough to put my foot in a wire trap and then
they sent me up here for life.'

"At this moment his keeper came up with something to eat, so I
bade him good-bye and left."

English, in these classes, is so alive with interest that the children
write with ardor and read eagerly the literature which, improperly
handled, they learn so soon to despise.

The time-honored studies of the old curriculum may be charged with
interest if they are linked to life. The most irksome task has its
pleasant aspects. Even the three R's may be translated into current
thought.

VII School and Home

Even more significant for the future is the work which is being done in
a few cities to train girls for their chief work in life--homemaking.
The home schools at Indianapolis and Providence are, perhaps, typical.
The Indianapolis School Board bought a number of wretched homes near one
school in a crowded district. The boys in the school renovated the
homes, converting one into a rug shop, another into a mop factory, and
still a third into a shoe-shop. In these shops the children of the
school did their trade work. Another house was made into a model
home--(model for that quarter)--in which the domestic science department
was located. Of this home the girls took entire charge, living in it by
the day. There they were taught, by practical experience, the art of
homemaking.

The home school of Providence, Rhode Island, under the direction of Mrs.
Ada Wilson Trowbridge, has received nation-wide recognition. Six hundred
dollars, appropriated by the Board of Education, renovated and furnished
the flat on Willard Avenue in which the school is held.

The girls who elect to take work in the home school--the work is wholly
elective--may come on Monday and Tuesday, or on Wednesday and Thursday.
The hours are 4 to 6, or 7:30 to 9:30. On Friday, anyone comes who cares
to. The day pupils are from the grammar schools and the evening pupils
come from the factories and shops. Seventy-five names on the waiting
list of day classes indicate the popularity of the school.

"We try to keep the school like the homes from which these girls come,"
explained Mrs. Trowbridge, as she showed her tastefully arranged
apartment. "The girls in the Technical High School worked out the color
schemes, selected the patterns and bought the materials. We tried to get
things which were good looking and durable."

The three kinds of work, (1) Cooking, (2) Housekeeping, and (3) Sewing,
are carried on in rotation, a girl spending one entire afternoon at
cooking, the next at sewing and a third at housework. Thus each girl
does an afternoon's job in each subject. The cooking class studies
successively "breakfast," "lunch" and "dinner," in each case preparing
menus and cooking the food. A meal is served nearly every day. The
service falls to the housekeeping class, which is also responsible for
cleaning up, tending the furnace, washing, ironing and the like.
Included in this part of the work are a number of thorough discussions
of personal hygiene and home sanitation. To the sewing class, the girls
bring their home sewing problems. Certain classes darn stockings while a
teacher reads to them. Some girls make underclothing and dresses. The
beginners hem table cloths, napkins, towels, dustcloths, etc., for the
school. The classes are small (ten to fifteen) making individual work
possible.

"No, no," protested Mrs. Trowbridge, "we have no course of study, or
else, if you please, there are as many courses as there are girls. Each
girl has her problems and we aim to meet them."

The backyard, utilized as a garden, furnishes vegetables which the girls
cook and can. These vegetables, together with canned fruits, jellies,
jams and pickles, which the girls put up, give the school such an
excellent source of revenue that last year it turned over $15 to the
Superintendent of Schools.

The crowning work of the school was done in a bare upstairs room which
the girls papered and painted themselves. "Two of them have since done
the same thing with rooms at home," declared Mrs. Trowbridge, happily.
"Isn't that good for a start?"

The home school stays close to home problems, dealing with the facts of
life as the girls who come to school see them. It would hardly be fair
to expect more of any school.

VIII Breaking New Ground

The regular work of the public school has been supplemented, of late
years, by a number of significant innovations, of which the most
far-reaching is, perhaps, a medical inspection of schools which involves
a thorough physical examination of all school children by experts. By
this scheme, the defect of the individual child is corrected, and the
danger of widespread contagion or infection in the schoolroom is reduced
to a minimum.

Following these physical examinations, the children who are clearly
sub-normal are placed in special classes or special schools, where,
under the direction of specially fitted teachers, they do any mental
work for which they are fitted, in the interims of time between manual
activities. Weaving, woodworking, folding and similar employments hold
the attention of sub-normal children where intellectual work will not.
The special school, freed from the throttling grip of an iron-clad
course of study, studies the need of each child, and makes a course of
study to fit the need. Although the special school has been used for
incorrigibles, its real value rests in its care of the defective child.

Anaemic children and those who show a tubercular tendency are treated in
open air schools. In Springfield a special school was constructed. In
Providence an old building was employed. In all cases, however, the
windows are notable by their absence. The school supplies caps and army
blankets, a milk lunch in the middle of the forenoon and the afternoon,
and a plain, wholesome dinner at noon. A few months of such treatment
works wonders with most of the children. It seems only fair that the
sick school child should be treated to fresh air and full nutrition,
even though the well child is not so favored.

The open air school has borne fruit, however, in the establishment of
numerous open-window classes. Against these classes, there seems to be
only one complaint. The children are too lively. Fancy! They get a
supply of oxygen sufficient to stimulate them into life during school
hours. How tragic this must seem to the teacher who is in the habit of
calming the troubled spirits of her class by a generous administration
of closed windows and carbon dioxide.

A few cities are attempting to relieve underfeeding by the provision of
wholesome school lunches at cost. Buffalo leads in the work, with
Chicago, Philadelphia and a number of other cities trailing behind. When
you remember that the Chicago School Board reported that in the Chicago
schools there were "five thousand children who were habitually hungry,"
while "ten thousand others do not have sufficient nourishing food," you
will perhaps agree that the time has come for some action.

Among the liveliest educational movements of the day is that of
providing school children with a legitimate occupation and a convenient
place to be occupied outside of school hours. Chicago, with an unequaled
system of playgrounds, and Philadelphia, with a department devoted to
school gardens, are leaders in two fields which promise great things for
the future welfare of American city school children.

IX The School and the Community

Not content with doing those needful things involved in the education of
children of school age, the school is reaching far out into the
community. Night schools came first, as a means of education for those
who could not attend school during the daytime. Every progressive city
and town has a night school now, and the scholars who come after working
hours use the same expensive equipment that is furnished to the regular
classes. Machines, cooking apparatus, maps and blackboard all do double
duty. In the foreign quarters, particularly, the night schools attract a
large following of adults, eager to learn the language and ways of the
new land. Though many a one falls asleep over the tasks, who shall say
that the spirit is not willing?

Public lectures are being used more and more as a means of public
education. There is scarcely an up-to-date city that has not some public
lectures connected with its school or library system, while in a center
like New York, the Board of Education has established an elaborate
organization for the delivery of lectures in public school buildings
throughout the city. The lecture topics--widely advertised through the
schools and elsewhere--cover every field of thought.

Perhaps the whole movement of the schools to influence the community may
be summed up in the phrase, "A wider use of the school plant." Why
should not the schools be open, as they are in Gary, day and evening,
too? Why should the mothers and fathers not be organized into "Home and
School Leagues," meeting in the schools as they do on a large scale in
Philadelphia? Why should not the social sentiment of a community be
crystallized around its schoolhouse, as it has been in Rochester? Is it
better to have the children playing in the street in the summer time, or
in the school yards and playgrounds, as they do in Minneapolis and St.
Paul?

The billion dollars invested in the school plant must be made to yield a
return in broader social service with each succeeding year.

X New Keys for Old Locks

Nor have progressive educators been satisfied to change the methods of
teaching old subjects. More important still, they have introduced new
courses which aim to open larger fields for child experience. Hygiene,
nature study, civics, manual training and domestic science have all been
called upon to enrich the elementary school curriculum.

The nineteenth century physiology--names of muscles and bones, symptoms
of diseases and the like--has been replaced in the twentieth century
schools by a physiology which aims to teach that the body is worth
caring for and developing into something of which every boy and girl may
be proud. Beginning with nature study and elementary science, the
hygiene course in Indianapolis emphasizes, first, the care of the body
and then, in the seventh and eighth grades, public health, private and
public sanitation, etc. From nature and her doings, the child is led to
see the application of the laws of physiology and hygiene to the life of
the individual and of the community.

Nature study, elementary science, horticulture and school gardens have
taken their place, on a small scale, in all progressive educational
systems. There is an education in watching things grow; an education in
the sequence and significance of the seasons, which brick and cement
pavements can never afford.

Scattered attempts are being made to teach children the relation between
individual and community life. All of the seventh and eighth grade
children in Indianapolis visit the city bureaus--water, light, health,
fire and police. Trips to factories teach them the relation between
industry and the individual life, while social concepts are developed by
newspaper and magazine reading, book reading and class discussions of
the articles and books which are read. At election time they discuss
politics; they take up strikes and labor troubles; woman suffrage is
occasionally touched upon; and they are even asked to suggest methods of
making a given wage cover family needs.

The widespread introduction of domestic science and elementary manual
training renders any special discussion of them unnecessary. In some
instances, however, they are developed to a high degree. In Gary,
Indianapolis and Cincinnati, seventh and eighth grade girls make their
own garments, cook and serve meals to teachers or to other classes;
while in the advanced grades the boys make furniture, sleds, derricks,
bridges and telegraph instruments. Chair caning, weaving and clay
modeling are also widely used in the hand work of both boys and girls.

Fitchburg, Mass., has developed a Practical Arts School, paralleling the
seventh and eighth grades in the grammar school. The school includes a
Commercial Course, a Practical Arts Course, a Household Arts Course and
a Literary Course. The regular literature, composition, spelling,
mathematics, geography, history and science of the seventh and eighth
grades is supplemented by social dancing, physical training and music in
all of these courses; and in addition for the Commercial Course by
typewriting, shorthand, bookkeeping, business arithmetic and designing;
for the Practical Arts Course, by drawing, designing, printing, making
and repairing; for the Household Arts Course, by cooking, sewing,
homekeeping and household arts; and for the Literary Course, by
half-time in modern language and the other half in manual training and
household arts.

At the end of the sixth year (at about twelve years of age) children in
Fitchburg may elect to take this school of Practical Arts instead of the
regular grammar school course. The results of this election are
extraordinary. The practical course was planned for the children who
expected to leave school at fourteen, or at the end of the eighth grade.
Curiously enough, all types of children have flocked into it. Sons of
doctors, lawyers and well-to-do business men; boys and girls preparing
for college, and children who must stop school in a year or two are all
clamoring for admission. In spite of the fact that pupils are kept in
these schools six hours a day instead of five, as in the other schools,
the attendance at the end of two years has outrun the accommodations.
The children who leave this applied work and enter the high school are
apparently not a whit less able to do the high school work than those
children who have come up through the regular grades.

The new education is broader than the old, because it accepts and adopts
any study which seems likely to meet the needs or wants of any class of
children or of any individual child. The storehouse of the mind is
to-day unlocked with educational keys of which educators in past
generations scarcely dreamed.

XI School and Shop

For the present, at least, there are a great number of children who must
leave school at fourteen, whether they have completed the grammar grades
or not. With them, the problem of education shapes itself into this
question: "Shall they be well or badly prepared for their work?" The
boys enter the shops and mills; the girls marry and make homes. Are they
to be efficient workers and housekeepers? The answer rests largely with
the schools.

Ohio has provided, for the solution of the problem, a continuation
school law, modeled on the more extensive plans of the German
Continuation School system. The law reads: "In case the board of
education of any school district establishes part-time day schools for
the instruction of youths over fourteen years of age who are engaged in
regular employment, such board of education is authorized to require all
youths who have not satisfactorily completed the eighth grade of the
elementary schools to continue their schooling until they are sixteen
years of age; provided, however, that such youths, if they have been
granted Age and Schooling Certificates and are regularly employed, shall
be required to attend school not to exceed eight hours a week between
the hours of 8:00 A. M. to 5:00 P. M. during the school term."

Cleveland and Cincinnati, acting under this authority, have established
continuation schools. In Cleveland they are voluntary; in Cincinnati
they are compulsory. In both cities, children between fourteen and
sixteen may attend school, during factory time, for four hours each
week.

Little enough, you protest. Yes, but it is a beginning.

The child in such a continuation school may choose between academic
work, art, drawing and designing, shop-work, millinery, dressmaking and
domestic science. In some cases a continuation course is possible. Thus
far the system has worked admirably.

Equally significant are the Massachusetts Vocational Schools, which are
intended to provide a technical training for the boys who wish to pass
directly from the grammar school into industry.

Under the Massachusetts law, the state pays half of the running expenses
of any vocational school which is organized with the approval of the
State Director of Vocational Training. The Springfield school, under
the supervision of E. E. MacNary, is housed on one floor of a factory
building. The boys may not come at an earlier age than fourteen and Mr.
MacNary insists, where possible, that they complete the regular seventh
grade work before coming to him. His school, which includes pattern
making, cabinet work, carpentry and machine shop work, is run on the
"job" plan. That is, a boy is assigned to a job such as making a
head-stock for a lathe. The boy makes his drawings, writes his
specifications, orders his material and tools, estimates the cost of the
job, makes the head-stock and then figures up his actual costs and
compares them with the estimated cost. Not until he has gone through all
of the operations, may he turn to a new piece of work.

"We tried the half-day and half-day in shop plan," Mr. MacNary explains,
"but it was not a success. It disturbed the boys too much. So we hit on
the plan of letting each boy divide his time as he needed to. When he
has drawing and estimating to do, he does that and when the time for
lathe work comes, he turns to that. It breaks up any system in your
school, but it gives the best chance to the individual boy."

One day a week all of the boys meet the teachers in conference to
discuss their work and to make and receive general suggestions.

The boys who come to Mr. MacNary's school are boys who would probably
leave the regular school at fourteen. Many boys come because they are
discouraged with the grade work, and of these "grade failures," many
succeed admirably in the new school. During the two years of this
shop-work, the boys get a training which enables them to take and hold
good positions in the trades. As one foreman said, "A boy gets more
training in the two years of that school than he gets in three years of
any shop."

These are but an index of the myriad of attempts which cities are making
to bring school and shop together, to train for usefulness, to start
boys in life.

XII Half a Chance to Study

There are other ways in which the school may help. For example, in the
case of homework. On the one hand, homework for the sake of homework may
be eliminated. On the other hand, children may be given half a chance to
read and study.

One day in a squalid back street I glanced through the window of a
corner house. The front of the house was a grocery store. The room into
which I happened to look was a general dwelling room. On one side stood
the kitchen stove; the floor was littered with children and rubbish, and
just under the window a child sat, her book before her on the
supper-covered dining table, doing multiplication examples--her
homework. The well-to-do child, less than ten squares away, who bent
over her problems in a quiet room, could scarcely appreciate the
difficulties attached to homework, when the family lives in three rooms
and does everything possible to reduce the bill for kerosene.

There is just one place in every neighborhood where the child can find
light, air and quiet--that place is the school. Why then should the
school not be open for the child? "Why, indeed," asked the schoolmen of
Newark, N. J. Passing from thought to deed, they opened schools in the
crowded neighborhoods four nights a week from 7 to 9.

Into these evening study classes, in charge of advisory teachers, any
child might come at all. The city librarian, generous in co-operation,
lent library books in batches of forty, for two months at a time.
Evening after evening, the boys and girls assemble and with text-books
or library books, do those things in the school which are impossible in
the home. For what other purpose should the school exist?

XIII Thwarting Satan in the Summer Time

Another project, equally effective, involves the opening of schools
during the summer time. The farmer needed his boy for the harvest, so
summer vacations became the established rule, but the city street needs
neither the boy nor the girl at any time of the year. Idleness and
mischief link hands with street children and dance away toward
delinquency. Then why not have school in the summer time? Why not?

The answer takes the form of vacation schools. In most cases the work of
the vacation school is designed primarily to interest the child. Games,
stories, gardening, manual work of various sorts, excursions and similar
devices are relied upon to maintain interest.

A few cities, like Indianapolis, Worcester and Gary, on the other hand,
have established vacation schools in which children may make up back
work, or pursue studies in which they are especially interested.

As a means of bringing below-grade children up to the standard of
affording an opportunity for the able children to advance more rapidly
in school, and, in general, as a means of keeping city children usefully
occupied during the summer months, the vacation school has won its
place.

Newark, making an even more radical departure from tradition, runs some
schools twelve months in the year. Edgar G. Pitkin, principal of a
school in an immigrant district, first put the idea into practice. At
the end of the regular session in June, he announced to his children
that school would start again on the following Monday. Fearfully he
approached the building. The streets about the school seemed unusually
deserted that Monday morning. Suppose no one should be there! When the
gong sounded, however, more than seven-tenths of the two thousand
children belonging in the school were in their places. The attendance
that summer was ninety-two per cent, and the promotion ninety-five per
cent. During the three summer months there were exactly two cases of
discipline.

"You see what happened," Mr. Pitkin explained. "All of the bright
ambitious children came back and the loafers stayed away. From that
picked crowd nothing but good work could be expected. There was no
attendance officer on duty, but the children were regular. Order was so
good that on hot days we put up the sashes between rooms, and on the
second floor, where four class-rooms were thrown into one, four classes
worked industriously under four teachers without the least friction."

This school has been organized on a year schedule. If the children come
four terms each year instead of three, they will reduce the time between
the first and eighth grades by one-third, which means a saving to them
and to the school. Since it is the able children who come, the twelve
months' school affords them an opportunity to go quickly through work on
which the slower classmates must hold a more moderate pace.

XIV Sending the Whole Child to School

It is a long step from the school of--

Reading, and writing and 'rithmetic,
Taught to the tune of the hickory stick,

to the school which aims at the education of the whole child; yet that
step has been attempted in Gary, Indiana. There, perhaps more
consistently than anywhere else in the United States, the school
authorities are providing for the whole child in their schools. Many
schools have manual training and domestic science; many schools have
school gardens and playgrounds; many schools have nature work in the
parks and squares; but in no school that I have visited did I find a
more conscious effort to unite mental and physical, hand and head, and
vocation and recreation, in one complete system.

This result, which to some may sound unbelievably like the impossible,
is accomplished first, by engaging experts to teach such special
subjects as botany and physical training; second, by abolishing grade
promotions and permitting each child to advance in his subject when he
is ready to do so; third, by keeping the school open morning, afternoon
and evening during practically the entire year; fourth, by making the
work of interest to each individual child. Perhaps this matter of
interest sums up better than any other the spirit of the Gary schools.
The system aims to make the school so attractive that children will
prefer to be there rather than to be anywhere else.

How is this done? Take the case of John Frena, who occupies a place of
no particular distinction in the fifth year of the Gary schools. John's
school day (from 8:30 A. M. to 4:00 P. M.) is divided equally between
regular work (reading, writing, geography, etc.) and special work (play,
nature study, manual training and the like). A day of John's school life
reads like this:

_First period_--Playground, games, sports and gymnastics, under
the direction of an expert.

_Second period_--Nature study, elementary science and physical
geography.

_Third and fourth periods_--Reading, writing, spelling and
language.

_Lunch hour._

_Fifth period_--Playground (as before).

_Sixth period_--Drawing and manual training.

_Seventh and eighth periods_--History, political geography and
arithmetic.

During his school day, John has played, used his head and his hands, and
alternated the work in such a way that no one part of it ever became
irksome.

Next week, music and literature will be substituted on John's program
for drawing; the following week manual training will replace one period
of play. The four special subjects (drawing and manual training, music
and literature, nature study and science, and plays and games) rotate
regularly. Each day, however, includes four periods of this special work
and four periods of regular work.

Such a plan sounds complicated. In reality, it is very easy. The
gymnasium teacher stays in the gymnasium, the drawing teacher in the
drawing room. In the regular work, there are forty children in each
class. For science and manual training these classes split in two. At
the end of each period, or of each two periods, depending on the
subject, the children pass from one room to another. While this system
brings them under several teachers each day, it enables them to take a
subject like art with one teacher for twelve years.

Meanwhile our little friend John has shown himself bright in language,
but slow in arithmetic. Immediately he is advanced in language, and
perhaps placed in a lower arithmetic class. He may even be transferred
to another teacher for special arithmetic work. The system permits this
flexibility because it allows each teacher, an expert in her own field,
to shape her work to suit her pupils.

Better still, if John cannot master his arithmetic in the regular
classes, he may attend voluntary classes on Saturday, at night, or
during the summer months. The schools afford him every chance to keep up
in every subject, and if he cannot make his way in this subject or in
that, he works in the fields which are open to him, doing what he can to
make his course a success.

John, in the schools of Gary, is John Frena, with all of John Frena's
limitations and possibilities. The Gary school seeks to bridge the
limitations, expand the possibilities, and give John Frena a thousand
and one reasons for believing that if there is any place in the world
where he can grow into a complete man, that place is the Gary school.

XV Smashing the School Machine

One of the oft-repeated complaints against the old education arose from
the iron-clad system of promotion which once in each year, with
automatic precision, separated the sheep from the goats, saying to the
sheep, "go higher," and to the goats, "repeat the grade."

For the sheep, the system worked fairly well, at least that once; but
for the goats, it was a tragedy. The child who had failed in one out of
six branches, side by side with the child failing in six out of six,
repeated the year.

The new education affords several remedies for this situation. Of these
the most generally known is promotion twice yearly. While this affords
considerable relief, it is greatly improved upon in Springfield, Mass.,
by the division of each grade into three divisions--advanced, normal
and backward. These divisions the teacher handles separately so that
when promotion time comes the children who have shown special aptitude
are prepared to go into the next grade. Meantime the children have been
constantly changing from one division in the class to another.

Perhaps the most generally practicable plan for relieving the mechanical
features of promotion is found in Indianapolis, and even more intensely
in Gary, where children are promoted by subjects rather than by grades.
In Indianapolis, the child entering the sixth grade, takes all English
with one teacher from that time until the end of the eighth grade. If
the child is strong in English, he advances rapidly. If he is weak in
English, the teacher gives him special attention. Learning each pupil's
capabilities in her particular branch, the teacher is able to give the
individual child, over a series of years, the help which his special
case requires.

In Gary the departmental idea is carried through the entire school
system. In the Emerson School, for instance, children may take eighth
grade work in English and high school work in nature study or history.
The departmental work is strengthened in Gary, in Indianapolis, and in a
number of other cities, by afternoon work, Saturday classes and vacation
schools. Here, a child interested in any phase of the school work or
desiring to make up work in which he is deficient, may spend his spare
time to his heart's content.

An even greater individuation of children exists in Fitchburg and
Newton, Mass., and in Providence, R. I. Children from the country and
foreign children who have difficulty with their English, together with
any other children who do not fit into any grade, are placed in an
ungraded class. A typical ungraded class of fifty pupils contained
Germans, Russians, Greeks, French, Italians and Polish children, who
were unable to speak English on entering the school. The ages of these
children varied from eight to fifteen. As soon as the ungraded children
appear to be fitted for any special grade, they are transferred.

This ungraded work is supplemented by "floating teachers," who are
located in each school for the purpose of dealing with special cases.
The case of any child who, for this reason or that, cannot keep up with
the work in a particular subject, is handed over to these teachers. Thus
individual attention is secured in individual cases.

XVI All Hands Around for An Elementary School

These progressive educational steps are not isolated instances of
success in new lines, nor are they incompatible with good work. They may
be welded into a unified system, aglow with the real interests of real
life. It is possible to correlate the old standard courses and the new
fields in such a way that the child will gain in interest and in life
experience.

Nowhere is this possibility better illustrated than in the elementary
schools of Indianapolis. Take as an example School No. 52, which is
located in an average district. The children, neither very rich nor very
poor, possess the advantages and disadvantages of that great mass known
as "common people."

The children in grades one to three, inclusive, in addition to studying
the three R's, spend thirty minutes each day learning to measure, fold,
cut and weave paper. In grades four and five, an hour and a half per
week is devoted to simple weaving, knife-work, raffia work, sewing and
basketry. Grade six has four and a half hours of similar work each week,
while in grades seven and eight, the pupils are occupied for one-third
of their entire school time in art work, book-binding, pottery work,
weaving (blankets and rugs), chair caning, cooking, sewing and printing.

"But how is it possible?" queries the defender of the old system. "How
can the necessary subjects be taught in two-thirds of the time now
devoted to them? Are we not already crowded to death?"

Yes, crowded with dead work, the proof of which lies in the fact that
the children who devote a third of the time to apply their knowledge get
as good or better marks in the academic work than the three-thirds
children. That, however, is not the really important point. This course
of study is valuable because it gives a rounded, unified training.

This is how the course is organized. The school life is a unit, into
which each department fits and in which it works. The spelling lesson is
covered in the classroom and set in type in the print shop. The grammar
lesson consists in revising compositions with regulation proofreaders'
corrections. The art department designs clothes which are made in the
sewing classes. The drawing room furnishes plans for the wood and iron
work and designs for basketry and pottery. In the English classes, the
problems of caning and weaving are written and discussed. The
mathematical problems are problems of the school. Children in the
sixth year keep careful accounts of personal receipts and
expenditures--accounts which are balanced semi-weekly. The boy in one
woodworking class makes out an order for materials. A boy in another
class makes the necessary computations and fills the order. All costs of
dressmaking and cooking materials are carefully kept and dealt with as
arithmetic problems. For the older boys, shop-cards are kept, showing
the amount and price of materials used and the time devoted to a given
operation. These again form a basis for mathematical work. The whole is
knit together in a civics class, which deals with the industrial,
political and social questions, in their relations to the child and to
the community.

Best of all, the things which the children talk and figure about, plan
and make, have value. The seventh and eighth year girls make clothes
which they are proud to show and wear; they cook lunch for which some of
the teachers pay a cost price. The baskets are taken home. Eighty chairs
are caned by the children each year. The bindery binds magazines, songs
and special literature. The boys make sleds and carts, hall stands,
umbrella racks, center tables and stools. They make cupboards and
shelves for the school, quilting-frames on which the girls do patchwork.
Rags are woven into rag carpets and sold. The print shop prints all of
the stationery for the school. Each can of preserves, in the ample stock
put up by the girls, is labeled thus:

"PRESERVED PEACHES"

with labels printed by the boys.

June, 1912, witnessed a triumph for the entire school. The children in
the upper class had taken up the study of book-making. They even went to
a bindery and saw a book bound and lettered. Then, to show what they had
learned, they composed, set up and printed--

A BOOK
ABOUT BOOKS
by
June 8 A Class.

This book of twenty-eight pages, tastefully covered and decorated,
contained three half-tone cuts which the children paid for by means of
entertainments; an essay by Hazel Almas on "The History of Books," one
by Adele Wise on "The Printing of a Book," and one by Ruth Kingelman on
"The Art of Bookbinding"; the program of the commencement exercises, and
a collection of poems and wise sayings.

The children went further and invited Mr. Charles Bookwalter, the owner
of the bookbindery where they had learned their lesson, to come and talk
to them on Commencement Day. He came, made a splendid address and went
away filled with wonder before these achievements of fourteen-year-old
grammar school children.

Each grade has a special subject of study. This year the boys in the
Eighth A are studying saws; the boys in Eighth B, lumbering; the girls
in Eighth A are investigating wool and silk; while in Eighth B the girls
are studying cotton and flax. This "study" means much. Not only do the
children discuss the topics, write about them, read books on them, and
do problems concerning them, but they visit the factories and study the
processes from beginning to end.

When the problem of pins came up, the teacher desired several copies of
a description of pin-making, so she asked the class to write out a
letter to the manufacturers. The class, left to select, decided to send
this letter:

SCHOOL NO. 52,
Indianapolis, Ind., Oct. 11, 1912.

AMERICAN PIN COMPANY,
Waterbury, Conn.

_Dear Sirs_: On seeing the pamphlet on pins you have been kind
enough to send us, I have decided to write and ask you if you
would kindly send us about twenty of your pamphlets on the
making of pins.

We are in the eighth grade, and expect to go out into the world
in January, and your process of making pins will be spread
abroad to the whole world.

We are very anxious to know more about the making of pins, and
we are very much interested in your process.

Yours sincerely,
RUTH HARRISON.

Need I say that the American Pin Company sent immediately twenty
duplicates of the desired pamphlet?

The work in this school where thought and activity go hand in hand, is
done by the regular grade teachers--done, and done well. They are as
enthusiastic as the pupils. Four years' trial has convinced them. On the
day that I visited the school, I walked into a classroom where twenty
girls were busy sewing. The order was perfect. Every one was busy. The
teacher was nowhere in evidence.

"That teacher," explained the principal to me later, "is off at a
teachers' meeting. She left these girls on their honor to work. You see
the result."

I saw and marveled. Yet why marvel? Was not this a typical product of
the system which knits thought and activity into such a harmonious,
fascinating whole as the most fortunate adults find in later life? Out
of such a school may we not well develop harmony and keen life? Never
yet have men gathered grapes from thistles, but often and often have
they plucked from fig trees the figs which they craved and sought.

XVII From a Blazed Trail to a Paved Highway

Pages might be filled with descriptions of similar successes, yet I
think that my point is already sufficiently established. How can we
disagree regarding so plain a matter? The path of educational progress
has led away from the three R's along a trail, blazed at first by a few
men and women who dreamed and stepped forward hesitatingly. Often they
retraced their steps, discouraged, and gave over the little they had
gained. By degrees, however, the trail was blazed. The way became
clearer. After all it was possible to connect education with life.

Slowly the light of this truth dawned upon men's minds. Gradually the
way opened before them. One by one they trod the path, bridging the
worst defiles, straightening the road, cutting out the thickets and
filling in the morasses, until at last, behold the way, explored by
hesitating, derided pioneers, no longer a trail, but a broad highway.
Others have gone--their name is legion--and have succeeded. The three
R's are but the beginning of an adequate elementary curriculum. You, in
your own city, with your own teachers, can vitalize your elementary
schools. You can teach the children to use their heads and hands
together, and thus show them the way to a deeper interest in your
schools, and a larger outlook on their work in life.

CHAPTER V

KEEPING THE HIGH SCHOOL IN STEP WITH LIFE

I The Responsibility of the High School

"Every pupil of high school maturity should be in high school atmosphere
whether he has completed the work of the grammar grades or not," insists
Dr. F. E. Spaulding. "Perhaps the high school course of study is not
adapted to the needs of such children. Well, so much the worse for the
course of study. The sooner the high school suits its work to the needs
of fourteen and fifteen-year-old boys and girls, the sooner it will be
filling its true place in the community." Such opinions, voiced in this
case by a man whose national reputation is founded on his splendid work
as superintendent of the school system of Newton Mass., bespeak the
attitude of the most progressive American high schools.

The high school is not a training ground for colleges, nor is it a
repository of classical lore. As an advanced school it differs no more
from the elementary school than the six cylinder automobile differs from
the four cylinder car. Though its work is more complex, like the
elementary school it exists for the sole purpose of helping children to
live wholesome, efficient lives.

II An Experiment in Futures

Children who get stranded in the seventh or eighth grades may have
failed in one subject or in several. Over age and out of place, they
lose interest, become discouraged and at fourteen drop out of school to
work or to idle. In Newton, as in every other town, there were a number
of just such children whom Mr. Spaulding decided to get into the high
school.

"There they will be among children of their own age," he explained.
"They may take a new line of work and acquire a real interest."

"But they will fail in their high school work as they have failed in
their grade work," protested the doubters.

Mr. Spaulding, smiling his quiet, genial smile, tried his experiment all
the same. From the seventh and eighth grades of the Newton schools he
picked the boys and girls who were fifteen or more at their next
birthdays. These pupils, seventy in all--forty girls and thirty
boys--were transferred, without examination, into the high school.

"These youngsters were going to drop out of school for good in one year,
or two at the outside," explained Mr. Spaulding, "so I made up my mind
that during that year at least they should have some high school
training. They went to the regular high school teachers for their
hand-work; but for their studies, I put them in charge of three capable
grade teachers, who were responsible for seeing that each child was
making good. I put it to the grade teachers this way: 'Here are a lot of
children who have got the failure habit by failing all through their
school course. Unless we want to send them out of our school to make
similar failures in life, we must teach them to succeed. Take each child
on his own merits, give him work that he can do and let him learn
success.'

"We gave these boys and girls twenty hours a week of technical work
(drawing, designing, shop-work, cooking and sewing) and ten hours a
week of academic work (English, mathematics, civics and hygiene). Shop
costs, buying of materials and simple accounting covered their
mathematics. Those were the things which would probably be most needful
in life. The boys got deeply interested in civics, and we let them go as
far and as fast as they pleased. With the girls we discussed hygiene,
dressing and a lot of other things in which they were interested.

"When those children entered the school they were boisterous and rough.
The girls dressed gaudily, reveling in cheap finery. By Christmas, to
all appearances, their classes differed in no way from the other high
school classes. They all brushed their hair. The boys were neater and
the girls were becomingly dressed.["]

Most of the seventy children stayed through the year. Twenty-seven of
the forty girls and seventeen of the thirty boys entered the regular
high school course the next fall. They were thus put into competition
with their former seventh and eighth grade comrades, although they had
had only two-fifths as much academic work as the regular eighth grade
pupils. There was the test.

Could these derelicts, after one year of special care, take their places
in the regular freshman high school work? After the end of the first
quarter, a study made of the 800 children in the high school showed that
on the average there were fifty-four hundredths of one failure for each
scholar. Among the twenty-seven girls from the special classes, however,
there was but seventeen-hundredths of a failure for each girl, or
one-third as many failures as in the whole school. The boys made an even
better showing. Of the entire seventeen, only one boy failed, and in
only one subject.

III The Success Habit

"We had given them something they liked and could do," Mr. Spaulding
concluded. "They succeeded a few times, got the success habit, learned
to like school, went into the regular high school course and succeeded
there."

As an illustration of the way in which the new plan works, take the case
of James Rawley. James was in a serious predicament. Time after time the
court had overlooked his truancy and misdoings, but James had taken the
pitcher once too often to the well, and the open doors of the State
Reform School stared him grimly in the face.

"It will be best for him in the long run," commented the judge. "Each
month of this wild life makes him a little less fit to keep his place in
the community. He has had his last chance."

Yet there was one ray of hope, for James lived in and out of Boston, a
city located near the Newton Technical High School. This fact led
James's custodians to propose to the judge that he give James one more
trial, this time in the Newton Technical High School. The judge, also of
the initiated, agreed to the suggestion, and James, a dismal eighth
grade failure, entered the Newton Technical High School in one of the
special transfer classes.

Just a word about James. He began life badly. His mother died when he
was young; and his father, a rather indifferent man, boarded the boy out
during his early years with an aunt, who first spoiled him through
indulgence, and then, inconsistently enough, hated him because he was
spoiled. Growing up in this uncongenial atmosphere, James became
entirely uncontrollable. He was disagreeable in the extreme, wild and
unmanageable.

The people with whom James was boarding grew tired of his continued
truancy and he was placed on a farm near Boston. There, too, he was
discontented, dissatisfied and disobedient. Time after time he ran away
to Boston. He went on from bad to worse, falling in with vagrants,
learning their talk and their ways, acquiring a love for wandering and a
distaste for regularity and direction. Taken into custody by the
Juvenile Court, and placed on probation with a family outside of Boston,
James again ran away to mingle with a crowd of his old associates in
Boston. It was at this point that the court decided to send him to the
Reform School. It was likewise at this time that some friendly people
took him in charge, found him a home in Newton, and started his life
anew in the Newton Technical High School, which James entered with a
special transfer class. Promoted to the regular freshman class on trial,
James has renewed his interest in education and bids fair to make his
way through the high school.

James is doing well in the Newton Technical High School. Though he does
not like all of the regular high school work, he has a full course, and
is working at it persistently. Heretofore school has never appealed to
him--in fact, he hated it cordially--but the school at Newton offered
him such a variety of subjects that he was able to find some which were
attractive. Since then he has been working on those subjects.

There are many cities in which every school door would have been closed
to James, because he did not fit into the school system, but the
superintendent of the Newton schools believes in making the school fit
the needs of the boy. A fantastic theory? Well, perhaps a trifle, from
one viewpoint; nevertheless, it is the soul of education.

IV The Help-Out Spirit

As a result of this special promotion policy, there are practically no
over-age pupils in the grammar schools of Newton. Instead of square pegs
in round holes, the Newton High School can boast of sixty or seventy
children who come, each year, in search of a new opening for which they
are technically not ready, but into which they may grow. After coming to
the high school, two-thirds of them find an incentive sufficient to lead
them to continue with an education of which they had already wearied.

The Newton High School, recognizing its obligation to serve the people,
strains every nerve to enable boys and girls to take high school work.
The printing teacher pointed to his class of twenty.

"Only three of them do not work on Saturdays and after school. They
couldn't come here if they didn't work. Hiney, there, was in a bakeshop
all day at three and a half a week. We got him a job afternoons and
Saturdays that pays him three dollars. That tall fellow will send
himself through high school on the six dollars a week that he gets from
a drug store where he works outside of school hours."

"We aim," added Mr. Spaulding, "to do everything in our power to make it
possible for the boys to come here. If their parents cannot afford to
send them, we find work for them to do outside of school hours."

That is virile work, is it not? And the result? During the past eight
years the number of pupils in the Newton schools who are over fourteen
has increased three times as fast as the number of pupils who are under
fourteen. The school authorities have searched the highways and byways
of the educational world until one-quarter of the school children of
Newton are in the high schools.

V Joining Hands with the Elementary Schools

The same result which is attained informally at Newton is accomplished
more formally by the organization of the junior high schools which have
sprung up in Berkeley and Los Angeles, California; Evansville, Indiana;
Dayton, Ohio, and a number of other progressive educational centers. The
child's school life under this plan is divided into three parts--the
elementary grades (years one to six), the junior high school (years
seven to nine) and the high school proper (years ten to twelve). The
break, if break there must be, between the elementary and the high
school, thus comes at age twelve and at age fifteen, instead of, as
formerly, coming at age fourteen, when the temptation to leave school is
so strong. Then, too, the sharp transition from work by grades to work
by departments is made easier because the junior high school combines
the two, leading the pupil gradually over from the grade method to the
department method.

Though the junior high school has so great a popularity, its work is
eclipsed by the still more revolutionary program of those educators who
advocate the complete abolition of any line between the elementary and
the high school, and the establishment of a public school of twelve
school years. This plan, coupled with promotion by subjects rather than
by grades, replaces the machine method of promotion and the gap between
elementary and high schools by an easy, natural progression adaptable to
the needs of any student, from the end of the kindergarten to the
beginning of the university.

Superintendent Wirt of Gary, Indiana, has established such a
twelve-year course in the Emerson School. The grades, numbered from one
to twelve, are so arranged that a girl may take half of her subjects in
school year eight (last grammar grade) and the other half in school year
nine (first high school grade). In order to make the harmony more
complete, Mr. Wirt places the elementary rooms, containing the second
grade pupils, next door to the rooms which shelter high school seniors.
On this side of the hall is a kindergarten; directly across from it is a
class in high school geometry.

The same plan, on a larger scale, has been adopted by I. B. Gilbert,
principal of the Union High School, Grand Rapids, Michigan, which houses
twelve hundred students.

"We have obliterated the sharp line of distinction between the grades,"
declared Mr. Gilbert. "The school, which is a new one, has a very
complete equipment--physical, chemical, and biological laboratories, two
cooking rooms, dressmaking and millinery rooms, an art department, a
woodworking shop, a forge room and a machine shop; the print shop,
though not yet installed, is to be put in this year. By bringing
children of all grades to the school, we place at the disposal of grade
pupils apparatus ordinarily reserved for high school pupils only. At the
same time, our equipment is in constant use and the cost of establishing
a separate industrial department or school for the grades is eliminated.

"These are merely the surface advantages, however. The real gain to the
students is in other and most significant directions. First, the
abolishing of rigid grading allows each child to follow his own bent. At
the beginning of the adolescent period, when the old interests begin to
lag, some new ideas must be furnished if the child is to be kept in
school. We provide that new stimulus by beginning departmental work
with the seventh year (at twelve or thirteen). Then, if the child shows
any particular preference for any line of work, he may pursue it. From
the seventh grade up, promotion is by subjects entirely, and not by
grades. If a student elects art, she may follow up her art work for the
next six years; similarly, a boy may follow shop-work, or a girl
domestic science or millinery. In order to fit the school more quickly
to the pupils' need, we make a division at the beginning of the eighth
grade of those pupils desiring to take academic work and those desiring
to take industrial work in the high school. The latter group does extra
sewing or shop-work twice each week.

"Again, we take all over-age and over-size pupils from the schools in
this section of the city, and by placing them in ungraded classes,
permit them to take the work which they can do. Here is a boy who cannot
master grammar. That is no reason why he should not design jewelry, so
we give him fourth year language, and take him into the tenth year class
in jewelry design. Yes, and he makes good, doing excellent craft work
and gradually pulling up in his language. By this means we make our
twelve grade school fit the needs of any and every pupil who may come to
it.

"We have a natural educational progress for twelve years," concluded Mr.
Gilbert. "There is no break anywhere. Instead of making it hard to step
from grade eight to grade nine, we interrelate them so intimately that
the student scarcely feels the change from one to the other. The result?
Last June there were 152 pupils in our eighth grade. Of that number 118,
or more than three-quarters of them reported in the ninth grade this
fall. We have cancelled the invitation to quit school at the end of the
eighth grade and our children stay with us."

VI The Abolition of "Mass Play"

Thus the dark narrow passage-way from the elementary to the higher
schools is being widened, lighted, paved and sign-posted. In some school
systems it has disappeared altogether, leaving the promotion from the
eighth year to the first year high school as easy as the step from the
seventh to the eighth grade. After the children have reached the high
school, however, the task is only begun. First they must be
individualized, second socialized, and third taught.

"The trouble with the girls," complained Wm. McAndrew, in discussing his
four thousand Washington Irvingites, "is that they have always been
taught mass play. Take singing, for instance. A class started off will
sing beautifully all together, but get one girl on her feet and she is
afraid to utter a note. The grade instruction has taught them group
acting and group thinking. I step into a class of Freshmen with a 'Good
morning, girls'.

"'Good morning,' they chorus.

"'Are you glad to see me, girls?'

"'Yes sir,' again in chorus.

"'Do you wished I was hanged?'

"'Yes sir,' generally,--

"'Oh, no sir,' cries one girl who has begun to cerebrate. The idea
catches all over the class, and again the chorus comes,--

"'Oh, no sir, no sir.'

"So it goes. The bright girl takes her cue from the teacher and the
class takes the cue from the bright girl. They must be taught to think
and do for themselves."

Everyone interested in school children should visit the Washington
Irving School (New York) and watch the truly wonderful McAndrew system
of individualization. In the office, you are cordially greeted. You wish
to see the school? By all means! But no teacher is detailed to serve
you. Instead, a messenger goes in search of the Reception Committee. Two
of the school girls, after a formal introduction, start your tour of
inspection, if you are fortunate enough to be there at nine, with a
visit to one of the assembly rooms, where, in groups of three or four
hundred, the girls enjoy three-quarters of an hour each morning. The
word "enjoy" is used advisedly, for, unlike the ordinary assembly, this
one is conducted entirely by the girls.

Each morning a different chairman and secretary is selected, so that in
the course of the year every girl has had her turn. The chairman, after
calling the meeting to order and appointing two critics for the day,
reads her own scripture selection, and then calls upon some girl to lead
the salute to the flag. The minutes of the previous day's meeting are
then read, discussed and accepted. After fifteen minutes of
singing--singing of everything from "Faust" to "Rags"--the chairman
calls on the two critics for their criticism of the conduct of that
day's meeting. Some special event is then in order. On one Monday in
December Miss Sage, head of the Biology Department, described the
Biological Laboratory in the new school building. After she had
finished, the chairman rose.

"Will anyone volunteer to tell in a few words the principal points which
Miss Sage made?"

Three girls were promptly on their feet, giving, in clear, collected
language, an analysis of the talk.

After you, as a guest, have been conducted to the platform, introduced
to the chairman, and given a seat of honor, the chairman turns to the
assembly, with the announcement,--

"Girls, I wish to introduce to you our guest of this morning."

Instantly the whole assembly rises, singing blithely, "Good morning,
honored guest, we the girls of the Washington Irving High School are
glad to welcome you."

The proceedings having come to an end, the chairman declares the meeting
adjourned and you look about, realizing with a start that the
girls--freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors--have spent
three-quarters of an hour in charge of themselves, and have done it with
interest, and with striking efficiency. Continuing your journey, you
find the process of individualization everywhere present. Here a girl is
in front of a class, directing the calisthenics which precede each class
hour. There a girl is standing at the front of the room, leading singing
or quizzing in geometry.

"Yes, it was a wrench," Mr. McAndrew admits. "You see, the teachers
hated to give up. They had been despots during all of their teaching
lives, and the idea of handing the discipline and a lot of the
responsibility of the school over to the girls hurt them dreadfully, but
they have tried it and found that it works."

VII Experimental Democracy

The high school pupil, after discovering himself, must next determine
his relation to the community. It is one thing to break down what Mr.
McAndrew calls the W. I. (Wooden Indian) attitude. It is quite another
to relate pupils to the community in which they live. Yet this, too, can
be done. The school is a society--incomplete in certain respects, yet in
its broad outline similar to the city and the state. The social work of
the school consists in showing the citizens of the school-community how
to enjoy the privileges and act up to the responsibilities of
citizenship. The Emerson School at Gary and the Union High School at
Grand Rapids, organized into complete schools from the first grade to
the end of the high school, are miniature working models of the
composite world in which all of the children will live.

Particularly effective work has been done on the social side of high
school organization at the William Penn High School (Philadelphia),
where Mr. Lewis has turned the conduct of student affairs over to a
Student Government Association, directed by a Board of Governors of
eighteen, on which the faculty, represented by five members, holds an
advisory position only. The Association gives some annual event, like a
May day fete, in which all of the girls take part. It assumes charge of
the corridors, elevators, and lunch rooms; grants charters to clubs and
student societies, and assumes a general direction of student affairs.

"It really doesn't take much time," Irene Litchman, the first term
(1912-13) President, explained. "We like it and we're proud to do it. We
used to have teachers everywhere taking charge of things. Now we do it
all ourselves." True enough, Madame President, and it is well done, as
any casual observer may see. Similar testimony is to be had from the
sick girls who have received letters and flowers, from the children
whose Christmas has been brightened by Association-dressed dolls, and
from the girls whose misunderstandings with members of the faculty have
been settled by the Student Association.

Each class in the Washington Irving High School (New York) gives one
reception a term to one of the other classes. In addition, an annual
reception and play are given by the entire school. The plays for these
occasions are written, costumed and staged by the students. Last year
the reception was given to Mrs. Dix, wife of the Governor of New York,
and the play "Rip Van Winkle" was acted by eighteen hundred girls. Such
organizations and activities lead high school students to feel social
relationships, and to assume responsibilities as members of the social
group.

VIII Breaching the Chinese Wall of High School Classicism

A high school education is included, by progressive communities, in the
birthright of every child. Since only a small part of these children are
preparing for college, the school must offer more than the traditional
high school course. The principal of a great Western high school which
housed nearly two thousand children, pointed to one room in which a tiny
class bent over their books. "That is probably the last class in Greek
that we shall ever have in the school," he said. "They are sophomores.
Only two freshmen elected Greek this fall, and we decided not to form
the class." Time was when Greek was one of the pillars of the high
school course of study. In this particular school, splendidly equipped
laboratories, sewing rooms, and shops have claimed the children. The
classics are still popular with a small minority, but the vast majority
come to learn some lesson which will direct their steps along the
pathway of life.

Everywhere the technical high school courses are gaining by leaps and
bounds. The William Penn High School (Philadelphia), established in
1909, is to-day enrolling four-fifths of the girls who enter
Philadelphia high schools. In some cities, technical work and classical
work are done in the same building; in other cities, they are sheltered
separately, but everywhere the high school is opening its doors to that
great group of school children who, at seventeen or eighteen, must and
will enter the arena of life.

The technical high school has not gained its prestige easily, however.
The bitter contests between the old and the new are well portrayed by
one dramatic episode from the history of the Los Angeles High School.
Mr. John H. Francis, now superintendent of the schools of Los Angeles,
was head of the Commercial Department in the Los Angeles High School.
Despite opposition and ridicule the department grew until it finally
emerged as a full-fledged technical high school, claiming a building of
its own,--a building which Mr. Francis insisted should contain
accommodations for two thousand students. The authorities
protested,--"Two thousand technical students? Why, Los Angeles is not a
metropolis." Mr. Francis gained his point, however, and the building was
erected to accommodate two thousand children. When the time for opening
arrived it was discovered, to the astonishment of the doubters, that
more students wanted to come into the school than the school would hold.
When Mr. Francis announced that students up to two thousand would be
admitted in order of application, excitement in school circles ran high,
and on the day before Registration Day a line began to form which grew
in length as the day wore on, until by nightfall it extended for squares
from the school. All that night the boys and girls camped in their
places, waiting for the morning which would bring an opportunity to
attend the technical high school.

Though less dramatic in form, the rush toward technical high school
courses is equally significant. It is not that the old high school has
lost, but that the new high school is drawing in thousands of boys and
girls who, from lack of interest in classical education, would have gone
directly from the grammar school into the mill or the office.

IX An Up-to-Date High School

The modern high school is housed in a building which contains, in
addition to the regular class rooms, gymnasiums, a swimming tank,
physics, and chemical laboratories; cooking, sewing, and millinery
rooms; wood-working, forge, and machine shops; drawing rooms; a music
room; a room devoted to arts and crafts; and an assembly room. This
arrangement of rooms presupposes Mr. Gilbert's plan of making the high
school, like the community, an aggregation of every sort of people,
doing every sort of work.

Physical training in the high school has not yet come into its own,
though it is on the road to recognition. All of the newer high schools
have gymnasiums, but the children do not use them for more than thirty,
forty, or fifty minutes a week. Sometimes the work is optional. The West
Technical of Cleveland, with its outdoor basket ball court, its athletic
grounds and grandstand, in addition to the indoor gymnasium, offers a
good example of effective preparation for physical training. William D.
Lewis of the William Penn High School sends all students who have
physical defects to the gymnasium three, four, or even five times a
week, until the defects are corrected. These exceptions merely serve to
emphasize the fact that we have not yet learned that high school
children have bodies which are as much in need of development and
training as the minds which the bodies support.

Several real attempts are being made to teach high school boys and girls
to care for their bodies, as they would for any other precious thing.
Hygiene is taught, positively,--the old time "don'ts" being replaced by
a series of "do's." In many schools, careful efforts are being made to
give a sound sex education. The program at William Penn, in addition to
the earlier work in biology and in personal and community hygiene,
includes a senior course, extending through the year, in Domestic
Sanitation and Eugenics. The course, given by the women in charge of
Physical Training, deals frankly with the domestic and personal problems
which the girls must face. The time is ripe for other schools to fall in
line behind these much-needed pioneers.

The course of study in the modern high school is a broad one. Latin may
always be taken, and sometimes there is Greek. French, German and
Spanish, Mathematics, History, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Civics
are almost universally offered on the cultural side of the curriculum.
In addition, girls may take dress designing, sewing, millinery and home
economics; boys may take wood-working, forge work, machine-tool work,
electricity, printing, and house designing; and both boys and girls have
an opportunity to elect art, arts and crafts work and music.

In some schools the combination of subjects group themselves into
definite courses, as in the Newton High School, which offers,--

The Classical Course.
The Scientific Course.
The General Course.
The Technical Course.
The Technology-College Course.
The Extra Technical Course.
The Fine Arts Course.
The Business Course.

Other schools, like the Indianapolis Manual Training School, permit the
pupil, with the advice of the principal, to make his own combination of
subjects. Whether prepared by the school or by the pupil, however, the
courses lead to college, to normal schools, to advanced technical
schools, or to some definite vocation. On one subject, progressive high
schools are in absolute agreement,--the course of study must furnish
both culture and technical training in a form which meets the needs of
high school children.

X From School to Shop and Back Again

The tendency toward vocational training finds its extreme expression in
the so-called Industrial Co-operative Course in which boys and girls
spend part of their time in school and part in the factory. Note this
legal document. "The party of the second part agrees to place, as far as
possible, the facilities of his establishment at the disposal of the
School Committee for general educational purposes along industrial
lines." In these words, the individual manufacturers of Providence,
Rhode Island, who are co-operating with the school board for the
establishment of the industrial co-operative course in the Technical
High School, place their mills and factories at the disposal of the
school authorities. The plan instituted at the suggestion of the
manufacturers themselves has won the approval of all parties during the
two years of its operation.

The Providence experiment differs from those of Cincinnati and
Fitchburg, Mass., in two respects,--in the first place, the school
authorities have a written contract with the manufacturers. In the
second place, they may decide what the character of the shop-work shall
be. The boy who elects to take the industrial co-operative course in
Providence spends ten weeks in a shop at the end of his freshman year.
Apprenticeship papers are signed, the boy gives a bond, which is
forfeited if he drops the course without a satisfactory reason, and for
three years he spends 29 weeks in the shop and 20 weeks in school,
alternating, one week in the shop, the next in the school. For their
shop-work the boys receive ten cents, twelve cents, and fourteen cents
an hour during the first, second, and third years, respectively. Though
this wage is not high, it is sufficient to enable the boys to earn
enough during the year ($175 to $250) to pay for their keep at home
during their high school course.

At the present time sixty-two Providence boys are working part time in
machine shops, in drafting rooms, in machine tool construction, in
pattern making and in jewelry making. In order to keep the scheme
elastic, the school offers to form a class in any trade for which
sixteen or more boys will apply.

The part-time course is primarily educational and secondarily
vocational. Since it may determine the character of the shop-work, the
school is in a position to insure its educational value. Again, the
academic training is still received in the school, while the technical
work, heretofore done in school rooms, is carried on in the fields of
real industry. As a supplement of the old time system of apprenticeship,
the part-time school is an undoubted success, because it adds to shop
apprentice work all of the essential elements of a high school
education.

XI Fitting the High School Graduate Into Life

The high school has not done its full duty when it has educated the
child,--it must go a step farther and educate him for something; then it
must go a step beyond that and help him to find himself in his chosen
profession. This vocational guidance which is filling so large a place
in public discussions, may mean guidance to a job or it may include
guidance in the job. In either case children must be led to decide upon
the kind of work for which they are fitted before they leave the school.

Jesse B. Davis, Principal of the Central High School at Grand Rapids,
furnishes a brilliant example of this vocational directing. Mr. Davis
begins his work through the theme writing and oral composition of the
seventh and eighth grades. The purpose of the pupils' reading and
discussion is to arouse their vocational ambition and to lead them to
appreciate the value of further education and training for life. This
study upon the part of the pupil is supplemented by talks given by Mr.
Davis, prominent business and professional men and high school boys who
have come back to finish their education after a few years of battle
with the world.

The high school classes in English are small--never more than
twenty-five, and the work is so arranged that the teacher may get a good
idea of the capability of each student. To facilitate this, the English
Department has prepared a series of essay subjects in the writing of
which the pupil gives the teacher a very definite idea of himself.
Beginning with "My Three Wishes;" the pupil next writes a story about
his ancestry; an essay on "My Church," which explains his belief; an
essay on "The Part I'd Like to Play in High School;" a study of "My Best
Friend," and finally an essay on "The Work of My Early School Days,"
which shows the pupil's likes and dislikes. In addition to this, the
teacher notes any physical defects--eyesight, hearing, and the
like--which might incapacitate the pupil for particular vocations. This
data, together with reports from all departments on neatness,
sincerity, ambition and other qualities is filed in the office.

During the second term of the freshman year papers are written on
approved biographies, dealing in each case with the qualities,
opportunities and education of the great one. These essays, read in
class, form the basis for a compilation of the elements necessary for
success in life.

The work of the sophomore year begins with the preparation of a class
list of professions, semi-professions and trades,--a list which is
checked with the permanent list kept by the department. Succeeding
classes thus discover the breadth of the vocational field, besides
adding to the knowledge accumulated by their predecessors.

After completing this list, the pupils write a letter to the teacher,
choosing a vocation and assigning reasons for the choice. When the pupil
cannot decide, the teacher assigns the vocation apparently best suited
to the pupil's capacity. An essay on his vocation is then prepared by
each pupil, showing first, what kind of activity and what
responsibilities the vocation involves; second, its social, intellectual
and financial advantages; third, the corresponding disadvantages;
fourth, the qualifications and traits necessary to success in the
vocation; and fifth, the reasons for choosing the vocation. Then, under
the advice of the teacher, the pupil writes to some man well known in
the profession of his choice--some lawyer, mining engineer, doctor or
contractor--explaining what he is doing, and asking for advice. The
generous responses given by men in all walks of life do much to confirm
the pupil in his faith, or to make him see that his choice is an unwise
one.

At the beginning of the junior year those pupils preparing for college
send for the catalogues of the colleges which stand highest in the line
of work in which they are interested, and write an essay, giving the
comparative value of the courses offered by the various institutions. By
this means judgment takes the place of sentiment in the selection of a
college. While the college preparatory pupils are engaged in writing on
their college courses, pupils who are going directly from the high
school into business write an elaborate essay on the kind of preparation
necessary for their vocation, the qualities requisite for success in it,
and the best place and means of entering it. Studies of the proper
relations between employer and employed occupy the second half of the
junior year.

The work of the senior year deals, in the first half, with the relation
between a citizen and his city; the second half, with the relation
between a citizen and the state. The pupil has thus passed from the
narrower to the broader aspects of his work in life.

The effectiveness of the work is enhanced by the organization of the
high school boys into a Junior Association of Commerce (in an exact
imitation of the Grand Rapids Association of Commerce), which meets in
the rooms of the latter on Saturday morning; transacts business; listens
to an address by a specialist, and then visits his works, if he is
engaged in a local industry. On the Saturday before Thanksgiving (1912),
for example, Mr. VanWallen, of the VanWallen Tannery Co., gave the boys
a talk on the tanning industry, then took them through his tannery,
where they saw the processes of manufacture. The business men of Grand
Rapids, who are highly pleased with this practical turn in education,
co-operate heartily in every way. The boys are urged, during the summer
months, to take a position in the work which they have chosen, start at
the bottom and find out whether their beliefs regarding the industry
are true. Then, too, the Free Library makes a point of collecting books
and articles on various professions and vocations, and placing them
prominently before the students. The English Department (with five
periods a week) does other work, but none so vital to the pupils' lives
as this of directing them in the thing which they hope to do when they
leave school.

The school may do more than direct the pupils in the choice of their
occupations, by actually securing positions for them. The head of the
Commercial Department in the Newton (Massachusetts) High School has a
card for every student, giving on one side a record of class work for
four years, and on the other side a statement of positions and pay of
the graduate. New pupils are placed; old pupils are offered better
opportunities. Employers are interviewed in attempts to have them
promote graduates. Through this system, Mr. Maxim keeps in constant
touch with the labor market and with graduates of his school.

Certainly the high school must prepare students for life. Whether, in
addition, it shall constitute itself a Public Employment Bureau, finding
positions for students, keeping in touch with their careers, and
assisting in their advancement, is a matter yet to be determined.

XII The High School as a Public Servant

Will the high school retain its present form? Probably not. If the
Berkeley-Los Angeles plan prevails, there will be three steps in the
public schools,--from elementary to junior high, to high school. If the
Gary plan wins, there will be twelve years of schooling, following one
another as consecutively as day follows night. Whether the Los Angeles
or the Gary plan is adopted, one thing seems reasonably certain,--the
high school will keep in close touch with life.

The high school is securing a surer grip on the world with each passing
day. It is reaching out toward the grades, calling the pupils to come;
it is reaching out into the world, making places there for them to
occupy. The modern high school has ceased to be an adjunct to the
college. Instead, it is a distinctive unit in educational life, taking
boys and girls between the ages of fourteen and nineteen and relating
them to the world in which they must live.

The era of the high school course is being succeeded by the era of the
high school boy and the high school girl. First, last, now and always,
the boys and girls, not the course, deserve primary consideration.
Whatever their needs, the high school must supply them if it is to
become a public servant, responsible for training children of high
school age in the noble art of living.

CHAPTER VI

HIGHER EDUCATION AT LOWVILLE[20]

I Lowville and the Neighborhood

Away off in northwestern New York State, where the sun shines fiercely
in the summer mid-day, where the ice forms thick on the lakes, and the
snow lies on the north side of the hills from Thanksgiving well on to
Easter, there is a town of some three thousand inhabitants, called
Lowville. The comfortable homes, brick stores, wide tree-bordered
streets, smiling hills and giddy children look very much the same at
Lowville as they do in any one of a thousand similar towns east of the
Mississippi. Situated far back from the line of ordinary travel, the
town is typical of a great class.

Stretching in all directions about Lowville is a fertile, prosperous,
agricultural region, farmed by good farmers, who are intelligently awake
to the problem of scientific agriculture in its multiple phases.

These farmers grow fruits, raise general farm produce, breed a little
stock, cut some timber, besides all of the time-honored occupations of
the professional farmer. The boys and girls growing up in the town or
the neighboring countryside, blessed with good air, and a cheap supply
of wholesome food, look pleasantly forward toward life as something
worth living.

So much for the good side of Lowville. Sad indeed is it to recall that
there is another side. Anyone who has been in close contact with
country life can readily imagine the ignorance, bigotry, prejudice,
unfairness and unsociableness of the population; the tendency to cling
to the past no matter what its shortcomings; the unwillingness to
venture into even the rosiest future which involves change. Lowville is
blessed a great deal and cursed a very little. The blessings are being
augmented and the curses minimized by means of the local high school.

II Lowville Academy

Lowville Academy is an ancient private school whose usefulness was
immensely enhanced when it was converted into a public high school. When
Mr. W. F. H. Breeze took over the principalship he made no particular
objection to the old class rooms and wooden stairs, but he was very
insistent upon discovering, first, what the community needed, and
second, whether or not the school was meeting the need.

More than half (at the present time sixty-five per cent.) of the pupils
at the school came from outside of the village. That is, they come from
the farms. As farmers' boys, many of them have been brought up to all of
the unscientific crudities which have been handed down in American
agriculture since the early settlers took the land from the Indians in
grateful recognition of their instructions in fertilization. While many
agricultural anachronisms may be laid to the door of the redskins,
planting by the moon and several equally absurd customs are traceable to
the higher civilization of Western Europe.

Saturated with traditional agricultural lore--some better and some
worse--the boys and girls from outside of Lowville, sixty-five in each
hundred high school students, were growing up to become the owners of
promising New York farms. They needed, first of all, an education which
should equip them with all of the culture of our schools, beside giving
them a knowledge of the sciences of agriculture and of mechanics. Those
boys and girls who were planning to go to college required an advance
course in those purgatorial topics which, for some inexplicable reason,
are still regarded as necessary preliminaries to a college education.
Most of the girls in Lowville and the immediate vicinity hope to marry
sooner or later, and to preside over wholesome, clean homes. For
home-making, also, there were certain possible educational provisions.

As prospective farmers, mechanics, college students, business men and
women, as prospective fathers and mothers, the boys and girls of
Lowville were looking to the schools--high as well as elementary--for an
education which should enable them to do successfully and efficiently
those things which life was holding before them.

Furthermore, Lowville had no spot around which community interests and
civic ideas could center. There was intelligent interest in Lowville,
its streets, schools, trees, houses, and business interests; there was,
too, an interest, expressed among the neighboring farmers, in the
wonderful strides of agriculture; furthermore, men and women were
anxious to discuss political and social happenings in other parts of the
world.

What more natural than that the school be converted into a center of
interest and education for Lowville and the surrounding territory.
Adults, as well as young folks, needed school help. Adults as well as
young folks should then be accommodated in the Lowville schools.

III The School's Opportunity

"There was a peculiar opportunity," said Mr. Breeze, in his crisp direct
way. "The place needed organizing in educational lines. People were
anxious to have it done. They wanted the advantage of a modern
educational institution, but no one had provided it, so I made up my
mind that my business was to do it."

Mr. Breeze made his first innovation in the course of study,
supplementing the old course by domestic science, several phases of
agriculture and mechanics. Then he correlated the various branches in
such a way that the subjects all harmonized with the work which any
particular student was doing.

"We made up our minds," Mr. Breeze explained, "that if we were to hold
the children and to educate them usefully, we must make our course fit
the things which they had to do in life. The work must come down to
earth. It had to be practical--that is, applicable to everyday affairs.
Some people confuse practical with pecuniary. There is no relation
between the two words. Practical means usable. We set out to make a
usable education."

"No education is usable which has frills," Mr. Breeze insists. "Frills
are nice for looks, but you can't put on frills until you have a garment
to which they may be attached. Our school is providing the garment--we
will leave the frills to some one else."

With this idea in mind, the applied courses in the school were
organized. Wood-alcohol cook stoves, such as those used in the village,
ordinary sewing machines, typewriters for the commercial course, and the
simplest tools for the machine shop, made up the equipment.

"These boys have but a few tools at home," Mr. Breeze says. "When they
go on the farm they will be compelled to use these tools. Why, then,
should they be taught mechanics with tools which they cannot duplicate
on their farms without an unjustifiable extravagance?"

IV Field Work as Education

Pursuant to such philosophy, the boys began their shop-work by equipping
the shop, building benches, tool-chests, cabinets, and saw horses;
putting lath and plaster on the ceiling; setting up the simple tools and
putting the shop in running order. Meanwhile, the agricultural students
set up two cream separators and a milk-tester, and arranged their
laboratory. Then the school was ready for applied work, or rather, the
students having graduated from a course in shop equipment, were ready
for shop practice.

The entire class in agriculture makes inspection of nearby farms--here
to see a well-managed orchard, there a new type of cow-barn or silo.
Again they inspect the soil of a district, going carefully over it,
picking samples and testing them on return to the school. In
fruit-packing season, the students visit the packing houses, or else, in
the case of some of the boys, they take a week of employment with a good
fruit packer. In season they practice tree pruning, grafting, budding,
transplanting and spraying. Whenever possible, the applied work of the
school is done in connection with the real applied work of life.

The physics and chemistry are both related to the agriculture and the
mechanics courses in the most intimate manner. From the earliest lessons
in physics through analyses of heat, light and the principles of
mechanics, the theories are constantly interpreted in practical
problems which arise in the daily work of the Lowville farmer. The
physics teacher, enthusiastic over his students and his work, builds
machines and testing devices, which the boys and girls use in solving
the problems which they bring from their homes. No less close to the
life of the place is the chemical laboratory, which offers opportunity
for the analysis of soil, the chemistry of fertilizers, experiments in
testing food and milk, and a number of other matters pertaining to
agriculture and domestic life.

The mechanical courses are closely related to the work in agriculture,
since most of the boys who take up the mechanical work are to go on the
farms. The course in mechanics passes quickly over the elements of the
work--most boys have learned to use saw, plane, chisel, auger, and
hammer years before. The smithing work of tempering, annealing, welding,
soldering and removing rust, all leads up to the real work of the
shops,--the making of products. The boys make pruning knives, squares
and drawing boards, grafting hooks, nail boxes, apple-boxing devices
(for this is an apple country), cement rollers, mallets, whiffle-trees,
bob-sleds, holders for saw filing, bag-holders, chicken-coops, poultry
exhibit boxes, hammer handles, greenhouse flats. Besides, they have
exercises in belt-lacing, in cement work, and reinforced concrete. Then,
too, they make models of barns and bridges, computing strains,
lumber-costs, labor-costs, floor spacing and arrangement.

The agricultural course deals, in some detail, with fruit-growing,
animal husbandry, grain-growing, and related topics. Though the scope of
such a course is necessarily limited in a high school, it forms an
invaluable addition to the knowledge of the boy who cannot go to an
agricultural college before he begins his life on the farm. Taught by
an agricultural expert, the work assumes real importance to the
prospective farmer.

Nor are the girls of Lowville neglected.

V Real Domestic Science

The domestic science department, in charge of an expert, takes up
household economics, sewing, dietetics and cooking. The work throughout
is practical, the girls learning the principles of sanitation, and their
application to the household; domestic art and home decoration;
lighting, heating and ventilation. The sewing classes cover the usual
exercises in simple hemming and darning, making towels, hemming napkins,
and the like; then underclothes, and later dresses are made.

In the cooking laboratory the girls learn food values and food
combinations, the cooking of simple dishes, the preparation of entire
meals. The girl who finishes the domestic science course in the Lowville
Academy is competent to organize a home, cook, sew, keep house and make
as efficient use of her opportunities as does her brother who has been
trained in mechanics or agriculture.

It is not in the applied courses alone that an extraordinary amount of
co-operation has been attained. The academic branches, likewise, are so
adjusted as to bear directly upon the work of the remaining courses. The
Academic co-ordination is particularly noticeable in the English work,
which is required of everyone during the entire high school course.
English composition is made to serve as a connecting, co-ordinating
study--related to all of the other courses in the school.

The student in agriculture writes reports on various phases of
agricultural work, collecting them in a folder and arranging them in
order, according to subject. Chemistry reports, history reports, all
are made a legitimate part of the work in English.

The results of this system have been more than satisfactory to Mr.
Breeze and his staff of co-workers. Students who would have left at the
end of the grammar school, are attracted by the high school program, and
"saved" by a high school course. The appeal of the school is a wide one.
There are no class of boys and girls in Lowville who cannot find
something worth while in the high school. Often a student otherwise not
brilliant will succeed remarkably in a particular line. Of one such boy
in particular Mr. Breeze spoke.

VI One Instance of Success

"He had no taste for Greek, but his reports and analysis in agriculture
and mechanics were brilliant. The excellent drawing and sketching and
the careful work showed how much appeal the applied course had made to
his mind; yet but for the agricultural course he would never have come
to high school. A farmer's son with little taste for the ordinary
academic studies was inspired by the idea of improved, scientific
farming and was getting a thorough insight into the principles of
agriculture, chemistry, physics, and mechanics, which will be of the
greatest service to him when he takes up farming. Such topics as judging
the age of cows, breed of cattle, cost of milk production, the cost of
cow-barn construction, grain, hay, cattle rations, silage, and nutrition
will all bear directly on the work of the farm in which he is so deeply
interested.["]

So much for the contribution of the Lowville High School to the students
who have gone out of its class-rooms and class excursions, stronger in
body and more alert of mind. No less remarkable has been its service to
the community. At the suggestion of the school authorities acting in
co-operation with the Grange, the State, and several other agencies,
Lowville has secured an agricultural specialist, whose business it is to
travel through the countryside, advising farmers, discussing their
problems and suggesting better methods of operating the farms, or of
experimenting in new directions. Each winter for one week, a school for
adults is held, with courses in agriculture for the men and courses in
domestic science for the women. The teachers,--experts from the Cornell
School of Agriculture,--are exceptionally well prepared to deal with the
problems of New York State farmers.

Higher education at Lowville is education for everyone in Lowville and
vicinity who wants it. With one eye on community needs and the other on
the best means of supplying them, the Lowville Academy is giving to the
citizens of Lowville a twentieth century higher education.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 20: Much of the material in this chapter appeared
originally in the Journal of Education.]

CHAPTER VII

A GREAT CITY SCHOOL SYSTEM[21]

I "Co-operation" and "Progressivism"

If any two words in the English language can express the spirit of the
Cincinnati schools, they are "co-operation" and "progressivism." The
people of Cincinnati, high and low, have banded themselves together in
an endeavor to make good schools. Cincinnati schools are not a monument
to any individual or group of individuals, rather they are the handiwork
of the citizenship. In their eagerness for educational progress, the
people are not hypnotized by every cry of "lo here! lo there!" nor do
they live in terror of new educational ideas. Their one aim, the
education of Cincinnati's children, takes precedence over every other
consideration. Perhaps that fact explains both the co-operation and the
progressivism.

Co-operation in the educational work of Cincinnati has been developed to
a remarkable degree. "There is not a civic society in the whole town
which is not working with the schools," says former Superintendent Dyer.
Mr. Dyer might have left out the word "civic" and still have been very
close to the truth.

Mr. Frederick A. Geier, a leader among the manufacturers who have made
possible the "half time in shop, half time in school" system, says of
his activity in co-operating with the school authorities: "As a citizen
of Cincinnati, I am interested in the schools for two reasons: first,
because good schools will bring under their influence the maximum number
of pupils and parents, and it is the best agency I can conceive of for
producing a high quality of citizenship; second, as a manufacturer I
feel that the material prosperity of a community is directly related to
the mental and manual equipment of its people." Showing his faith by his
works, Mr. Geier has labored in season and out of season to make the
schools of Cincinnati the most progressive in the country.

Speaking as "a woman and mother," Mrs. Isabella C. Pendleton, of the
Civic League, which has played an active part in building up school
sentiment, says: "I consider that the most important features of our
school system are the manual training for boys and the domestic science
for girls. I am happy to say that to-day a girl on graduating from our
schools is capable of taking care of a home." As public schools go, that
is not an insignificant achievement. No wonder Mrs. Pendleton, a woman
and mother, is interested in schools which accomplish such vital
results.

From what extraordinary sources do the schools in Cincinnati secure
their support! "All of the local dentists have been brought into close
contact with the school system by the efforts of the Dental Society to
introduce mouth hygiene into the schools," says Dr. Sidney G. Rauh. "We
dentists," adds Dr. Rauh, "are firm believers in general co-operation."
No less cordial is the Board of Health in its endorsement of the
schools, and in its efforts to raise the health standard of school
children.

"I do not believe there is any city in the United States which offers as
good an example of the spirit of co-operation as Cincinnati does,"
affirms Carl Dehoney, of the Chamber of Commerce. "Why are we so active
in co-operating with the schools? Simply because we realize that good
schools, and especially practical schools, which will fit young men and
women for their real life work, have a tremendous bearing upon the
efficiency of the people of the city." Mr. W. C. Cauldius, also of the
Chamber of Commerce, says: "Our school development is the result of a
few years of public support and sympathy." In similar enthusiastic words
the leaders of every phase of Cincinnati life express their interest in
educational progress.

II An Educational Creed

Let no one infer from what has been said that the people of Cincinnati
are agreed upon all of the details of educational policy, nor upon the
fundamentals either, for that matter, but they have adopted an
educational creed which runs about as follows:

1. I believe in making the schools provide for the educational
necessities of every child.

2. I believe that this can be done when all work together.

3. I believe that new ideas are the life-blood of educational advance.

That simple creed adopted by teachers, principals, mothers,
manufacturers, dentists and trade unionists has become a great motive
force in the upbuilding of the Cincinnati schools.

The most evident thing about the Cincinnati school organization is its
democracy. The feudal spirit of lordship and serfdom existing in many
schools between superintendents and principals on the one hand, and
teachers on the other, is nowhere evident in the Cincinnati schools;
instead, each teacher, thrown upon her own initiative, is a creative
artist, solving her particular problem as she believes that it should be
solved, and abiding by the consequence of her failure or success.

Early in his work Mr. Dyer made it clear that he would not tolerate a
mechanical system of education. "Up here on the hill, in a wealthy
suburban district, is a grammar school. Its organization, administration
and course of study must necessarily differ from that other school,
located in the heart of the factory district. The principal of each of
these schools has a problem to face--each will succeed in proportion as
he grasps the significance of his own problem and the readiest means for
its solution." Is not that a refreshing sentiment from a superintendent
of city schools? Note this other delightful touch: "My teachers soon
learned that I regard the teacher who works exactly like another teacher
as pretty poor stuff." Before the axe of such incisive radicalism, how
the antiquated structure of the old school machinery came crashing to
the ground, to be replaced by a system which recognized each teacher as
an individual builder of manhood and womanhood, working to meet the
needs of individual children. It is not an idle boast which the English
make when they glory in the absence of a curriculum; for even the best
curriculum, if mismanaged, is speedily converted into a noose, the knot
of which adjusts itself mechanically under the left ear of teacher and
child alike. The school authorities of Cincinnati destroyed both knot
and rope by giving to their teachers and principals this injunction:
"Make your school fit the needs of your children and your community."

The old-time, machine-minded school superintendent, filled with the
spirit of co-operative coercion, assembles his teachers. "Now let's all
work together," he exclaims, "Here, Susie Smith, this is what you are
to teach your pupils, and this is the way in which you are to do it." It
was in quite a different spirit that Mr. Dyer said to each one of his
teachers: "You do your work, I'll do mine, and together we will make the
schools go." It was in this spirit that the teachers were called
together to confer on the reorganization of the course of study. Each
teacher in each grade had her say in the matter. If the most
insignificant teacher in Cincinnati said to Mr. Dyer: "I have an idea
that I think would improve the work in my grade," his invariable reply
was: "Then try it. There is no way to determine the value of ideas
except to try them." By that policy Mr. Dyer surrounded himself with a
group of vitally interested people, each one suited to the task in which
he believed implicitly, and each one fully convinced that the success or
failure of that part of the Cincinnati school system with which he was
immediately concerned, depended directly upon his efforts. No wonder the
schools succeeded!

III Vitalizing the Kindergarten

The kindergartens are at the basis of the educational system of
Cincinnati, and they are in charge of a woman who believes in herself
and in her work. Perhaps the people of Cincinnati are not justified in
believing that their kindergartens are the very best in the whole United
States, but Miss Julia Bothwell, who directs them, says, modestly
enough, that she has visited kindergartens in many cities, adopting
their schemes and improving in response to their suggestions, until she
is convinced that no other city in the land can show a better
kindergarten system than that of Cincinnati. In truth, her plan is
ordinarily referred to as the "Cincinnati idea."

Cincinnati children begin their kindergarten work at four and a half or
five, entering the first grade at six. While in the kindergarten they
play the games and sing the songs that all kindergartens play and sing,
but with this difference: their plays and songs are built around the
things that they do.

The yellow October leaves of Cincinnati's parks half shadow the activity
of the busy classes of little kindergarten folks who go there to work
and to learn. The Park Commissioners, like every one else in Cincinnati,
are in thorough sympathy with the work of the schools, so they allot to
each kindergarten class a plot in the park, in which the children--using
all of the tools themselves--plant tulip bulbs under the direction of
the park gardeners.

"Tulips are the first thing up in the spring," Miss Both well explained,
"so we have decided to use them. For years we tried gardens, but
children of kindergarten age are not willing to give gardens as much
attention as they require; then, too, the gardens ran wild during the
summer, so we have settled on the tulip. After the children have planted
the bulbs they sing and talk about their work. Then, early in the
spring, they begin to visit their plots, watching the first shoots of
green as they appear, looking eagerly for the buds, and then, at last,
as the reward of their interest, picking the flowers and taking them
home. Thus, each child, during his kindergarten course, sees the
complete cycle from bulb to flower."

Besides this flower-culture in the park, the children grow hyacinths in
the school rooms, visit the woods to collect autumn leaves and spring
flowers, make excursions to the country, where they may see animals and
crops, and always, for a few days after an excursion, talk about the
things which they saw, draw them, sing about them and play games about
them. In order to facilitate the work the Board of Education leases a
farm, to which the kindergartens go in succession. By these means the
life of the city kindergarten child is thoroughly linked with nature.

These things are not new in kindergartening, however. They have merely
taken firm root in the fertile soil of Cincinnati's educational
enthusiasm. The real excellence of Miss Bothwell's experiment consists
in connecting the kindergarten with the early elementary grades on the
one hand and with the community on the other.

The first grade children of Cincinnati come back to the kindergarten
teachers for an hour's kindergartening once each week, in order to
clinch the kindergarten influence on the lives of the first graders. The
first grade teachers meet the director of kindergartening once each
week, for a discussion of kindergarten methods, and an initiation into
the kindergarten spirit. Thus the lump of first grade abstraction is
leavened with the leaven of kindergarten concretes, and the grade
teachers get the spirit of kindergarten work. In the near future Miss
Bothwell hopes to have the kindergarten work extend to the second grade,
in order that the spirit, rhythm, harmony and joy of the kindergarten
may thoroughly permeate the roots of the Cincinnati school system.

Even more significant--if anything could be more significant than the
breakdown of the ironclad, first grade traditions--is the grip which the
kindergartens of Cincinnati have secured on the people. The Cincinnati
kindergartener is more than a teacher--she serves many masters. In the
morning she holds kindergarten classes. On two afternoons a week she
does kindergarten work with first grade children; on one afternoon she
holds a conference with the supervisor; on a fourth afternoon she visits
the classes of first grade teachers or confers with mothers' clubs, and
on her remaining afternoon she visits her children in their homes. Out
of these varied duties has come: first, a group spirit among the
kindergarteners, built upon frequent interchange of plans and ideas;
second, an understanding of the relation between the problems of the
kindergarten and the problems of the grades; third, a sympathetic grasp
of the home conditions surrounding the life of many a difficult child;
and fourth, sixty-one mothers' clubs, one organized in connection with
each kindergarten, which furnish a social gathering-place for mothers,
an opportunity to influence parental ideas, and a body of invaluable
public sentiment.

The idea of a kindergarten, usually regarded as a small part of the
school program, has been evolved until, in this one city, it is a potent
influence, working on children, teachers, parents and public opinion.

IV Regenerating the Grades

The kindergarten is not alone in its appeal to the child and in its
affiliation with the community. Traditional grade education has likewise
been modified and rehabilitated until it makes an appeal to parent and
child alike. In the first place, a consistent effort has been made to
provide accommodations for the physical education in the grades of the
fifty-seven elementary schools. Twenty-five now have fully equipped
gymnasiums in which children have two or three periods of exercise each
week. In the schools not so equipped the physical work is confined to
calisthenics. Each year the Board of Education appropriates five
hundred dollars for the Public School Athletic League, which organizes
meets and games, open to all public school pupils free of charge.
Besides field days, baseball, soccer and football there is an athletic
badge awarded to all pupils who pass an "efficiency" test in athletic
activities.

The academic work of the grades is alive with enthusiasm. History, so
often made a mass of dead names and dates, is taught in terms of life.
The children learn that history is in reality a record of the things
which people did, and of the forces which were at work in their lives;
furthermore, that the commonplace acts of to-day will be the history of
to-morrow. Translated into ideas and social changes, history stimulates
thought, turning the child's mind from the purely personal side of life
to the social activities of which history is made.

Arithmetic and geography begin at home, in the things which the children
know and do. Both are taught in terms of child experience. Both call to
the child mind the things of daily life.

English, too, which is so important an element in education, is made to
reflect child experiences. Teaching the reading lesson of "Eyes and No
Eyes" one teacher asked her class: "Well, children, what did you see on
your way to school this morning? What did you see, Elmer?"

"Well, I saw--I saw--" and Elmer sat down.

"I saw that it had been raining in the night by the mud in the streets,"
said Alice; while John had seen trolley cars, and remembered that the
number on one of them was 647.

A seventh grade girl had read the Psalm beginning, "Who shall ascend
unto the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in His holy place?" After
asking what a psalm was, and who wrote the Psalms, the teacher asked:

"Who was David?"

"He was the king of Palestine," replied one boy promptly. After
straightening out the history the teacher next asked:

"For what was David noted?"

"For being Solomon's father," ventured one little girl.

"Oh, no," protested a boy, "He was the fighter."

"Sure enough," said the teacher, "would the fact that he was a warrior
naturally influence his thoughts?" After an affirmative answer from the
class: "Where do we find any evidence of that in this Psalm, George?"
asked the teacher.

George considered the reading a moment. "Oh, I see, it's where he says,
'The Lord mighty in battle.'"

After an elaboration of this idea the teacher went on to ask why David
wrote, "Lift up your heads, oh ye gates, and the King of Glory shall
come in." By careful questioning the class was led to see that cities
had walls and gates; that David, who had won many victories, was
accustomed to have the gates thrown wide to receive him, and that his
triumphal entries had made a deep impression on his thoughts. After some
more discussion the Psalm was read again, this time with surprising
intelligence and feeling.

One eighth grade class in English was engaged in preparing a catalog of
all of the pictures in the school, looking up the painters, their lives,
their principal works, and the circumstances connected with the painting
of the pictures which hung on the school wall. In the same room a girl
had written a description of a sunset, in which she had said: "The
western sky is illuminated with a fiery red, and the edges of the
clouds are also tinted with a silvery hue."

"What would Corot say about that?" asked the teacher.

The girl thought a moment. "I guess he would say that there was too much
color."

"Yes," smiled the teacher, "he would say, 'Let's go home and wait for a
few moments.'"

The essay work in the upper grades is linked with all of the other
school work. The children write about civics, architecture, localities,
books and pictures. One girl of thirteen wrote on "The Reaper"--"As I
enter my bedroom one picture especially catches my gaze. It hangs on the
eastern wall. It is the picture of a large city by moonlight. The moon
is bright and the stars are out. A beautiful lake borders the far end of
the city, and the moon makes the lake look like a mirror. The church
steeple stands out clear against the sky. It is a beautiful summer
night, and while the city sleeps an angel descends and bears a little
child to the heavens above. Some mother must have given up one of her
beloved flowers."

No less valuable are the essays describing an ideal kitchen, a location
for a house, a home, school life, and the various other things with
which the child comes in contact.

Last among the academic branches, there is a carefully organized eighth
grade course in civics, which, beginning with the geography and early
history of Cincinnati, covers family relations and the tenement problem;
the protection of public health--street cleaning, sewage, water, smoke
abatement, and the activities of the Board of Health in providing for
sanitation and the suppression of disease; the protection of life and
property; the business life of the community--relation of the citizen
to business life, the growth of commerce and industry in Cincinnati;
Cincinnati as a manufacturing center, the labor problem, and the
regulation of business by the government; the necessity for civic
beauty; the educational forces of the community; the care of dependents
and delinquents; the functions of government; and the collection and
expenditure of city funds. In this way the child, before he leaves the
elementary school, is given an idea of the real meaning of citizenship.

Beginning in the kindergarten, the art work extends through the high
school, including in the lower elementary grades, paper-cutting and
pasting related to school work, the seasons and the holidays. From the
third grade on, the children make real products--trays, boxes, blotter
pads, calendars, booklets and folios--work which is supplemented by
object and constructive drawing and designing.

Shop-work is given to boys, and domestic science to girls, in all of the
schools. The point at which these subjects are introduced and the amount
of time devoted to them depends upon--what do you think? The regulations
prescribed in the course of study? Not a bit of it! It depends upon the
needs of the community and of the child.

Schools which are located in the poorer districts begin manual training
and domestic science with the second grade, though ordinarily they are
not introduced until the sixth. Normally the children are given one and
one-half or two hours a week of such work, but over-age, backward and
defective children may spend as much as half of their time upon it. For
some of the girls a five-room flat has been rented, in which they are
taught housekeeping in all of its phases. Otherwise the domestic
science consists of hand and machine sewing, the designing and making of
simple garments, the planning and preparation of food, and the
organization and care of a household. Wherever possible, the boys make
useful products in their shop-work, instead of constructing show pieces
which have no value.

From top to bottom the grades are shaped to meet the needs of children.
Each class and each school is built around this central idea. The school
system, instead of taking the usual form of a cumbrous machine, is a
delicate mechanism adjusted to the wants of Cincinnati children.

V Popularizing High School Education

Not content with making the grades interesting, the school authorities
of Cincinnati have made the high schools so profitable and popular that
ninety-five out of each one hundred children who complete the eighth
grade go to the Cincinnati high schools. Furthermore, during the past
six years the high school attendance in Cincinnati has doubled. These
two noteworthy conditions are the product of carefully matured and
efficiently executed plans, and of infinite labor. Yet the results have
more than repaid the labor which they cost.

"Our first task," explained Dr. E. D. Lyon, principal of the Hughes High
School, "was to persuade the community that it needed high school
training. Next we secured two fine new high school buildings. Then those
of us who are engaged in high school work faced the supreme task. We had
to prove to the people that their expenditures on high schools were
worth while, by providing a high school education that would mean
something to the pupils and to the community." Note the spirit of social
obligation--a feeling prevalent throughout the Cincinnati schools.

"Most parents fail to see the importance of the high school problem,"
said Assistant Superintendent Roberts, "because they never make
consistent efforts to have their children choose their vocations
intelligently. We began our work right there, at the bottom, by telling
the parents of grade children about the high school courses, and what
they meant. Eighth grade teachers, under the guidance of Mr. F. P.
Goodwin, are expected to talk to their classes regularly on the
vocational opportunities in Cincinnati and elsewhere, and to help the
children get started right in high school careers. Besides that, we take
the grade children on trips to the high schools, showing them on each
trip some striking feature of high school work. Parents' meetings are
held, in which the high schools are explained and discussed, and we send
circulars to the parents of sixth, seventh and eighth grade pupils,
explaining the high school work as simply as may be."

After arousing such expectations, the high school cannot fulfill its
obligations in any way other than by the provision of a thorough course
of study adapted to the needs of all types of pupils. The preparation
for this in Cincinnati has been made with consummate skill. The pupil,
on entering the high school, may select any one of the nine general
courses, in which there are twenty-three possible combinations of
subjects.

Four of the courses--General, Classical, Domestic Science and Manual
Training--prepare for various colleges and technical schools. The other
five courses--Commercial, Technical Co-operative Course for Boys;
Technical Co-operative Course for Girls; Art and Music, lead to
vocations. Housed in the same high school building is this range of
work, which permits boys and girls to select a course which will bear
directly on almost any line of work that they may care to follow in
later life.

Each course is shaped to give the children who select it a definite
training in the line of their interest. The General Course prepares
pupils for college; the Domestic Science Course shows girls how to make
and keep a home; the Commercial Course turns out bookkeepers; the
Technical Co-operative Courses, enabling boys and girls to spend part of
their time in the school and part in the factory, are arranged in
co-operation with the principal industries of Cincinnati. The Art and
Music Courses, like the other special work, are in the hands of experts
who are competent to give a practical direction to the activity of their
pupils.

In passing, it is interesting to note that the people of Cincinnati are
getting the best possible use out of their splendid high school
equipment. In addition to the regular classes which fill the Woodward
High School from 8:30 to 3:00, the pupils in the continuation courses
occupy the building every afternoon and all day Saturday. Five nights a
week it is filled by an enthusiastic night school, three thousand
strong, and during six weeks of the summer vacation a summer school
holds its sessions there. It would be difficult to find a school plant
which comes nearer to being used one hundred per cent of its time. To be
sure, such things were not done "in father's time," but then the people
of Cincinnati have a theory that while a good thing is worth all it
costs, it does not pay to let even the best of things decay for lack of
use. That is why the school system tingles from end to end with vigor
and enthusiasm.

VI A City University

Besides the kindergarten, elementary schools, and high schools, the city
of Cincinnati has a university, which, like all of the other educational
forces of the city, is tied up with the general educational program.
Those graduates of the Cincinnati high schools who desire to go to
college, may pass from the high school of Cincinnati into the University
of Cincinnati without a break in the continuity of their education.

The University of Cincinnati is a municipal university. The city
appropriates one-half of one mill on the general assessment, for
university purposes. The board of education appropriates ten thousand
dollars a year toward the maintenance of the Teachers' College, the
school in which the city teachers are trained. The training school for
kindergarteners is affiliated with the university, having the same
entrance requirements as the other university courses. In explanation of
this close connection between the city and the university, President
Dabney begins his 1911 report to the board of directors by saying: "An
effort has been made in this report to explain the service of the
university to the city and people of Cincinnati. It is therefore not
only an official report to the directors, but is also a statement for
the information of all citizens." Begun in this spirit of public
obligation, the report details the services of the Teachers' College in
supplying teachers; of the School of Economics and Political Science in
supplying municipal experts; and of the Engineering School for its
inauguration of the widely-known industrial co-operative courses--for be
it known to the uninitiated that the five hundred students of the
University Engineering School spend alternately two weeks in the school
and two weeks in a shop. More than that, the Engineering School
furnishes experts for municipal engineering work.

That the students of the University may feel the interest of the city in
their work, preference is given to the University graduates in
appointments of teachers, of municipal engineers, and of employees on
such municipal work as testing food, inspecting construction, and the
like. University students may thus occupy their spare time in practical
municipal work.

"The University should lead the progressive thought of the community,"
says President Dabney, and by way of making good his proposition he
avails himself of every opportunity to turn his students into municipal
activities, or to co-operate in any way with the forces that are making
for a greater Cincinnati.

VII Special Schools for Special Classes

There are children in Cincinnati, as in every other city, who cannot
afford to go to the high school. The easiest answer to such children is,
"Well, then, don't." The fairest answer is a system of schools which
will enable them to secure an education even though they are at work.
Cincinnati in selecting the latter course has opened a school for the
education of every important group unable to attend the high schools who
wish to avail themselves of advanced educational opportunities.

First there is the night school work, which, in addition to the ordinary
academic courses, offers special opportunities in machine shop practice,
blacksmithing, mechanical and architectural drawing, and domestic
science. As these courses are carried forward in the Woodward High
School building the students have all of the advantages of high school
equipment.

Night school, coming after a day's exertion, is so trying that only the
most robust can profit by it. No small importance therefore attaches to
the operation of the compulsory continuation schools under the Ohio law,
which empowers cities to compel working children between fourteen and
sixteen years of age to attend school for not more than eight hours a
week between the hours of 8:00 A. M. and 5:00 P. M.--hours which will
presumably be subtracted from shop time. By means of this adaptation of
the German system even those children who must leave school at fourteen
are guaranteed school work for the next two years at least. Although
this is but a minimum requirement, it represents a beginning in the
right direction.

No less significant than this compulsory system are the voluntary
continuation schools for those over sixteen years of age, which have
been established for machinists' apprentices, for printers' apprentices,
for saleswomen, and for housewives. The first two courses are conducted
under the direction of a genius named Renshaw, who takes from the
machine shop boys of every age, nationality and experience, fits them
somewhere into his four-year course; gives them a numbered time check
from his time board; teaches them reading, writing, arithmetic,
mechanical drawing, geometry, algebra and trigonometry by means of an
ingenious series of blueprints, which constitute their sole text-book;
visits them in their shops, giving suggestions and advice about the shop
work, and finally sends them out finished craftsmen, with an excellent
foundation in the theoretical side of the trades. The work is entirely
voluntary, yet so excellent is it that a number of Cincinnati
manufacturers send their apprentices to Mr. Renshaw, paying them
regular wages for the four hours of credit which the said Renshaw
registers weekly on the boys' time-cards. "One firm sends sixty boys
here each week," commented Mr. Renshaw's assistant. "That makes two
hundred and forty hours of school work each week for which they pay
regular wages. Well, sir, the superintendent there told me that they
didn't so much as notice the loss."

"I tried to explain my system to one superintendent," said Mr. Renshaw,
"but he wouldn't even listen. 'It makes no difference how you do it,' he
grumbled, 'I don't care about that. I know that the boys are neater,
more careful, more accurate, and better all-around workmen after they
have been with you for a while. That's enough explanation for me.'"

Acting on such sentiments the manufacturer peremptorily dismisses the
boy who does not do his school tasks satisfactorily. The responsibility
is in the school, whose growing enrollment and influence tell their own
story. Firms send their boys to the school with the comment that the
hours of school time, for which they are paid, do not add to the cost of
shop management, but do add to the value of the boys to the shop.
Increased efficiency pays.

A school of salesmanship for women has met with a like success. The
leading stores, glad of an opportunity to raise the standard of their
employees, grant the saleswomen a half day each week, without loss of
pay, during which they take the salesmanship course. The course has the
hearty backing of the best Cincinnati merchants, who see in it an
opportunity, as Mr. Dyer put it, "to make their employees the most
skilled and intelligent, the most obliging and trustworthy, the best
treated and best paid--in short, the very best type of saleswomen in
the country."

That this work may keep pace with the demand for it the school
authorities offer industrial instruction in any pursuit for which a
class of twenty-five can be organized.

"A large number of women were born too soon to get the advantage of the
courses in domestic science now being offered in our high schools,"
comments Mr. Dyer in his dry way. Scores of such women anxious to learn
all that was known about domestic arts constituted a class for which the
school was well equipped to provide. "Then suppose we give them what
they need," said Mr. Dyer. Just fancy--a continuous course in domestic
science! Yet there it is, in Cincinnati, with an enrollment of more than
eleven hundred women, attending the public schools to learn domestic
arts. What could be more rational than this Cincinnati system of making
a school--even though it be a continuation school--to fit the
educational needs of Cincinnati people--grown-ups and children alike?

VIII Special Schools for Special Children

The Cincinnati schools provide for special children as well as for
special classes of people. First there are the unusually bright
children, who "mark-time" in the ordinary classes. These children were
placed in "rapidly moving classes." While omitting none of the work,
they were allowed to go as fast as their mental development would allow
them, instead of as slowly as the other members of the class made it
necessary to move. At the beginning the teacher found these
exceptionally able children lacking in effort and attention, qualities
which they had not needed to keep their place in the grades. "The extra
work and responsibility stimulated their mental activity, increased
their power of attention, fostered thoroughness and accuracy, developed
resourcefulness and initiative, and those other qualities necessary for
leadership." Why should it not be so? Why should not the specially able
child be taught as thoroughly as the defective one? Yet Mr. Dyer,
speaking from experience, remarks: "Strange to say, it is harder to
establish such classes than defective and retarded ones." Strange
indeed!

For the sub-normal or retarded children Cincinnati has made ample
provision. Spending from a quarter to a half of their time in manual
work, the children are no longer tortured with the doing of things
beyond their powers. The overgrown boys have instruction in shop work.
The overgrown girls have a furnished flat in which they learn the arts
of home-making at first hand. There are in all over four hundred
children in these schools.

Similar accommodations are provided for other special groups. The
anaemic and tubercular children are taught in two open-air schools; six
teachers are detailed to instruct the deaf children; one teacher devotes
her time to the blind children, and ten teachers are employed to take
charge of those children who are mentally defective. Thus, by adjusting
the schools to the needs of special groups of people, and of special
individuals, Cincinnati is providing an education which reaches the
individual members of the community.

IX Playground and Summer Schools

The vacation school is planned to meet the needs of the children in the
crowded districts during the hot summer months. "For that reason," says
Mr. Dyer, "it provides industrial work of all kinds unassociated with
book instruction, but mingled with a great amount of recreational
activity--excursions, stories, folk-dancing, and a wide variety of
games."

The field of industrial activity is a broad one, including cooking,
nursing, housekeeping, sewing, knitting, crocheting, weaving and
basketry; drawing and color work, brush and plastic work; bench work
with tools, making useful articles; sports and games, including
folk-dancing for girls and ball for boys. The primary and kindergarten
classes offer a delightful round of song, story, games, excursions,
paper work and other forms of construction. For the girls who have to
take care of babies there are special classes. The boys make useful
articles in the shops, and the girls, in sewing-room and cooking
laboratory, learn to do the things around which the interests of the
home always center. By co-operation with the park commissioners, the
playgrounds were made an integral part of the summer school work.

Besides the recreational summer school Cincinnati has maintained for the
past five years an academic summer school, in which children might make
up back work in school, or do special work in any line which was of
particular interest to them. In these schools "the very best instructors
that can be secured" are employed, and their recommendations are
accepted by the school principals when the fall term opens. "This school
is one of the means taken to deal with the problem of repeaters in our
schools," says Mr. Dyer. "Instead of requiring children who are behind
to fall back a year, they may, if they are not hopeless failures, but
only deficient in a few studies, remove their deficiencies in the summer
school and go on with their class. We have followed up these pupils,"
Mr. Dyer adds, "and found that a normal percentage keep up with the
class in succeeding years."

X Mr. Dyer and the Men Who Stood With Him

A spirit of comradeship and hearty co-operation breathes from every nook
and cranny of the Cincinnati schools. Principals and teachers alike
sense the fact. Alike they aim toward the upbuilding of the schools.

"Never in my life have I found such a spirit of mutual helpfulness,"
says Assistant Superintendent Roberts. "Every teacher has felt that she
had a part to play, that she counted, that her suggestions were worth
while, and she has worked earnestly toward this end."

"Everywhere I encounter the same willingness to co-operate with the
schools," said Superintendent Condon, after spending three months in the
place that Mr. Dyer vacated when he became superintendent of the Boston
schools. "There is a heartiness in it, too, that grips a man."

"There is always the jolliest good-fellowship in the Schoolman's Club,"
exclaimed a grammar school principal. "It's always 'Roberts' and 'Lyon'
and 'Dyer' there. They're as good as the rest, no better. We all go
there to work, and to work hard for the schools."

On such a spirit is the school system of Cincinnati founded. From its
point of vantage, set upon its high hill of ministry to child needs, it
flashes like a searchlight through the storm of nineteenth century
pedagogical obscurity. The optimist sings a new, glad song; the
pessimist is confounded; the searcher after educational truth uncovers
reverently before this masterpiece of educational organization, this
practical demonstration of the wonders that may be accomplished where
head and heart work together through the schools, for the children.

Such is the triumph, but whose the glory?

"It is not mine," protests Mr. Dyer, "I did only my part." "Nor mine,"
"Nor mine," echo his assistants. Truly, wisely, bravely spoken. The
glory is not to Mr. Dyer, nor to any other one man or woman--the glory
is to Mr. Dyer and the men and women who worked with him for the
Cincinnati schools.

"My predecessor was an able organizer," explained Mr. Dyer. "He left
things in splendid condition, and we took up his work. There were five
things which marked great epochs in the upbuilding of the Cincinnati
schools:

"First, we established the merit system for the appointment of teachers.

"Second, we improved the school buildings and equipment.

"Third, we organized special courses for children who were not able to
profit by the regular work.

"Fourth, by putting applied work in the grades we gave the children a
chance to use their hands as well as their heads.

"Fifth, we enlarged the school system by adding buildings and courses
until there was a place in the schools for every boy and girl, man and
woman in Cincinnati who wanted an education.

"That was the sum total of our work. It was a long and difficult task."
Mr. Dyer's tall form straightened a trifle. His earnest, determined face
relaxed. From under his bushy eyebrows flashed a gleam of triumph--the
triumph of a strong, purposeful, successful man. "But when it was all
over," he concluded, "and when the things for which we had striven were
accomplished we knew that they were worth while."

When Mr. Dyer left his position in Cincinnati to become Superintendent
of the Boston schools, there was, on every hand, a feeling of loss and
of uncertainty among those most interested in the city's educational
problems. During those months which elapsed between Mr. Dyer's departure
for Boston and the election of his successor there was a feeling that,
after all, perhaps he was not replaceable.

Then the successor came,--a quiet man, with a constructive imagination
that enabled him to grasp, readily and completely, Cincinnati's
educational need. There had been an era of radical educational
adjustment in the city. The school system had been changed,--artfully
changed, it is true--but changed, nevertheless, in all of the essential
elements of its being. Some of the changes had been made with such
rapidity that their foundations had not been fully completed. The
brilliant school policy which Mr. Dyer had inaugurated needed rounding
out for fulfilment and completion. Randall J. Condon saw these things;
and he saw, furthermore, that in a community so awakened as Cincinnati,
almost any educational program was feasible, so long as it remained
reasonable.

The Cincinnati school people who went to Providence for the purpose of
inviting Mr. Condon to take charge of the Cincinnati schools, felt the
constructive power of his leadership. Providence had been educationally
transformed, and Mr. Condon was the man responsible for the
transformation.

The people of Cincinnati have every cause to congratulate themselves
upon the new school head. At the outset Mr. Condon said,--"I purpose, to
the best of my ability, to live up to and follow out the policies
inaugurated by Mr. Dyer." With the utmost fidelity he has kept his word.

There is far more in Mr. Condon's administration than a mere follow-up
policy. Everywhere he is building. In the face of a difficult financial
situation which compels a serious curtailment of expenses for the time
being, he is insisting upon additional kindergartens, extended high
school accommodations, a more intimate correlation of the elementary and
high school system, and an extensive system of recreation and social
centers. It is upon the latter point that Mr. Condon is laying the
greatest emphasis at the outset of his administration.

The Cincinnati policy which Mr. Condon has inaugurated with regard to
civic centers is admirably summed up in his statement of the case. "A
larger use of the school house for social, recreational and civic
purposes should be encouraged. The school house belongs to all of the
people, and should be open to all the people upon equal terms,--as civic
centers for the free discussion of all matters relating to local and
city government, and for the non-partisan consideration of all civic
questions; as recreational centers, especially for the younger members
of the community, to include the use of the baths and gymnasiums for
games and sports, and other physical recreations, the use of class-rooms
and halls for music, dramatics, and other recreational activities, and
for more distinct social purposes; as educational centers in which the
more specific educational facilities and equipment may be used by
classes or groups of younger or older people, in any direction which
makes for increased intelligence, and for greater economic and
educational efficiency; as social centers in which the community may
undertake a larger social service in behalf of its members,--stations
from which groups and organizations of social workers may prosecute any
non-partisan and non-sectarian work for the improvement of the social
and economic conditions of the neighborhood, rendering any service which
may help to improve the condition of the homes, giving assistance to the
needy, disseminating information, helping to employment, and in general
affording the community in its organized capacity an opportunity to
serve in a larger measure the needs of the individual members." Here is,
indeed, a broad-gauge social school policy, to which the administrative
authorities of the Cincinnati schools are fully committed.

The movement for social centers in the schools is to be under the
direction of a social secretary appointed by the superintendent. Until
the organization is more highly perfected, principals are free, under
certain restrictions, to open their schools for classes, groups, and all
other legitimate community activities.

Mr. Condon's activities in the direction of socialized school buildings
finds a ready response. "There was already a large use of a number of
the schools for community meetings--for welfare associations, for boys'
and girls' study clubs, and for musical and social gatherings." The
program is a program of extension, rather than of innovation. It has
already won the approval of the citizenship.

Spontaneity must be the soul of such a movement. "It was my strong
conviction that the development of such a social movement should come
from the people themselves, not that a ready-made program or plan should
be given them, but that they should develop their own." One by one
centers are being formed. The Board of Education furnishes the building,
the local social center organization pays the immediate expenses which
its activities incur. The movement has been started right. "I am a great
believer in democracy," Mr. Condon says. "The people can be trusted to
settle social questions as they should be settled, provided all sides
can be fully presented and time taken for deliberation. The school house
affords the one opportunity where all can meet on common ground as
American citizens and as good neighbors, where the question of wealth
and position may be forgotten, and where what a man is in himself, and
what he is willing to do for the common good, counts most."

Such is the spirit in which Mr. Dyer, the men and women who worked with
him, and the men and women who succeeded him, have striven for the
advancement of education; such the spirit of co-operation and
progressiveism which dominates this great city school system.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 21: Much of this material appeared originally in
Educational Foundations.]

CHAPTER VIII

THE OYLER SCHOOL OF CINCINNATI

I An Experiment in Social Education

On the west side of Cincinnati, separated from the main part of the town
by railroad yards, waste land and stagnant water, surrounded by
factories and a myriad of little homes, stands the Oyler School. "Can
any good thing come out of Nazareth?" queried a doubter. Answers, in
bell tones, the philosopher, "If a man can build a better house or make
a better mousetrap than his neighbor, though he fix his home in the
woods, the world will find a path to his door." Because Oyler has built
a better school in a better community the world sits at Oyler's feet to
learn of its experiment in social education.

The first time that I went to the Oyler School I encountered a Committee
of Manufacturers. A Committee of Manufacturers in a public school during
business hours! These men had met to talk with the school principal over
the location of a library, which the entire community had worked to
secure. When the time came to go before the Park Board over in the
center of the city, to secure a playground near the Oyler School, the
local bank furnished automobiles, and dozens of business men, leaving
their offices, took the opportunity to endorse the work of the school,
and to second its demands that play space be given to West End children.
The manufacturers have become interested because in less than a decade
the Oyler School has changed the face of the community, creating
harmony out of discord, and order out of chaos.

The struggle of Oyler is the story of a man, a delivered message, a
thriving, enthusiastic school and a reborn neighborhood. Many years
ago--about twenty to be exact--a young man named Voorhes was made first
assistant in a West End school. Like other young men who go into school
work he applied himself earnestly to his tasks, but unlike most of them
he did some hard thinking at the same time. Among other things he
thought about the relation between the school and the community,
wondering why the two were so completely divorced from one another. Then
the problem was focused on one concrete example--a boy named John,
nearly sixteen years old, who had succeeded in getting only as far as
the eighth grade. John, who had never taken kindly to language or
grammar, began thinking pretty seriously toward the end of his last year
in the grammar school. He tried, he struggled, but the syntax was too
much for him. After all, it was not his fault, and he complained
bitterly against a punishment in the form of "leaving down" for
something which he could not help. His training was so inadequate that
he was entirely unable to pass the high school examinations which, in
those days, were like the laws of the Medes and the Persians.

"I am safe in saying that he did not know the difference between a verb
and a preposition," said Mr. Voorhes, "but during the grammar lesson he
could make a drawing of the face of the teacher that was in no sense a
caricature. This phase of his ability gave me a cue to what might be
done for him. Knowing both the superintendent and the principal of the
Technical School, I talked the situation over with them, begging them,
with all the persuasive power at my command, to take the boy,
forgetting his shortcomings, and magnifying his peculiar talents, which
I felt sure were considerable along mechanical lines. They acceded to my
request, giving John a place in the school, to which he walked three
miles back and forth daily for three years. For many years John has been
superintendent of the lighting plant of a large city, and his experience
has always stood out before me as a terrible rebuke to the then dominant
educational regime, which could offer John nothing but a sneer. These
facts took such a vital hold on me, seeming to reinforce so fully the
thought that the industrial abilities which I had acquired back on the
farm proved of incalculable value to me, that the resolution to promote
industrial education became a fixed part of my educational creed. The
memory of that lesson in educational equity kept the need for industrial
training constantly in my mind, till I had opportunity to give it
expression in the Oyler School."

John bespoke the needs of the community by which Oyler was surrounded.
It was so different from other communities. There were the ugly
straggling factory buildings, the miserable homes, their squalid
tenants, and worst of all there were the rough, boisterous, over-age,
uninterested, incorrigible boys and girls, who flitted from school to
home, to street, to jail, and then, gripped by the infirm hand of the
law, in the form of a Juvenile Court probation officer, or a truant
officer, they came back to school unwillingly enough to begin the cycle
all over again.

"As for discipline," remarked one of the city school officials, "the
school hadn't known it for years, the probation officer couldn't keep
the children in school and the Juvenile Court couldn't keep them out of
jail. Even the majesty of the law is lost on children, you know." The
children taunted the police; the police hated the children; the home
repelled; the factory called, grimly; child labor flourished, and the
school despaired.

II An Appeal for Applied Education

Such were the conditions when Mr. Voorhes became school principal.
Grinding factories, wretched homes, parental ignorance, social neglect,
educational impotence--few men could enter such a field of battle with a
light heart, but Mr. Voorhes did.

What, think you, was his first move? He addressed to the heads of all of
the factories in the neighborhood a letter, suggesting the establishment
of a manual training department in connection with the grade work of the
Oyler School. "As I become more and more familiar with existing
conditions in our school district," he wrote, "I am convinced that a
Manual Training Department would be of vital importance to the school
and to the general welfare of the community. Such departments are being
looked upon to-day as necessary adjuncts to modern school equipment.

"Our school is being drained constantly of its life force by the
adjacent factory demands, and if we could send pupils forth with trained
hands as well as trained minds they could render a much more useful
service, which, in time, would not only show itself in more profitable
returns to employers, but must also tend toward a higher standard of
culture in the neighborhood, and a longer continuance in school by our
pupils.

"I know of no other section of the city where the actual need should
make a stronger appeal for support than here. Anything you may do will
be greatly appreciated."

"You can imagine my surprise," says Mr. Voorhes, "when during the next
few days my mail brought me a hearty response of checks and pledges
amounting to nearly a thousand dollars." Manual training was assured!
No! Not yet. The Board of Education reached the conclusion that manual
training in the grades was undesirable. "With the exception of $85 which
I was told to use as I saw fit the checks and pledges were alike
returned to the donors. That $85 gave a piano to our kindergarten."

That failure back in 1903 was the seed-ground of later success. The
community was interested to the extent of a thousand dollars at least.
The manufacturers were not only interested in education, but were
willing to support it financially. There was a change of administration.
Mr. F. B. Dyer became Superintendent of Schools and at once met the
situation by establishing a manual training center in the Oyler School.

III Solving a Local Problem

The end was not yet, however. The truant officers and the Juvenile Court
were still busy keeping Oyler children out of mischief and in school.
The conventional type of manual training--one period per week in the
sixth, seventh and eighth grades--was not holding the pupils.

"The children were not getting enough manual work to establish either
habit or efficiency," Mr. Voorhes comments, "besides, this work reached
only to the sixth grade. At this time there were in the school fifty
boys and girls below the fifth grade who were from two to five years
behind their normal classes. That is to say, they were--most of them--of
that unfortunate class that has seen more trouble in a few years than
most of us see in a lifetime. I was constantly asking myself: 'Where do
these folks come in?' 'What is our school doing to help their function
in life?' 'Are we really of any assistance to them after all?' 'Is it
worth their while to come to our school?' My sympathy for the pupils was
constantly growing, and I went at last in desperation to the
superintendent with a plan for a revolution in the organization of my
school, a revolution that I was sure would meet the needs of the
community and one upon which I was willing to stake my reputation if I
had any."

At this point it is worth remembering, parenthetically, that Cincinnati
school men have a habit of going about their school problems in very
much that spirit, beginning by sizing up the needs of the community,
continuing by becoming imbued with an idea of the community needs and
ending by presenting this idea to the school authorities and
getting--within bounds--carte blanche to make their schools serve the
locality in which they are situated.

This was Mr. Voorhes's experience. He was told to go ahead and make
good--a permission of which he availed himself in an astoundingly short
space of time by introducing a system of applied education, aimed to
meet the needs of the children who attended the Oyler School.

"There is a peculiar situation," said Mr. Dyer, "and it needs peculiar
handling. You have only one problem to solve--that of the west end. Go
ahead!" Mr. Voorhes did go ahead with a plan under which all children in
the sixth and seventh grades were given three periods a week in
laboratories and shops. Subnormal pupils in the third, fourth and fifth
grades were to have four and one-half hours (one school day) for applied
work each week. In order to give special help to backward pupils they
were sent in small groups to the seventh and eighth grade teachers while
their classes were doing applied work. Below-grade children go to the
eighth grade teacher for special work in arithmetic and geography, and
the seventh grade teacher for English and history. In this way the
backward children from the lower grades have special training by the
best equipped teachers in the school.

The eighth grade pupils give one-fifth of their time to applied work.
During the year the boys have, in addition to the shop-work, twenty
lessons in preparing and cooking plain, substantial meals. To make this
"siss" work palatable to the sterner sex much of it takes the form of
instruction in camp life--cooking in tin cans and other handy home-made
devices. In a community where boys have always been trained to regard
home work as menial, but where the absence of servants makes a "lift"
from the husband or brother such a Godsend to the wife at odd times, the
value of giving grade boys a taste for cooking can hardly be
over-estimated.

The boys also receive twenty lessons in the simpler forms of
sewing--darning, hemming, sewing on buttons. At the same time the girls
are taught the use of simple tools.

IV Domestic Science Which Domesticates

Beginning with the second grade the girls have domestic science while
the boys are at manual training. This domestic science has a truer ring
to it than most of the teaching which passes under that name. The
children at Oyler have a peculiar need for domestic science, because in
many of the homes mother works out, and even when she is not away her
knowledge of domestic arts is so rudimentary that she can impart little
to her daughters. So it comes about that the Oyler School seeks to teach
the girls all that they would have under intelligent direction in a
normal home.

Once each week they cook and once they sew, devoting from one-eighth to
one-fifth of their entire time to these activities. By way of
preparation for both cooking and sewing they are carefully trained in
buying. They must make the dollar go a long way--buying in season the
things cheapest at that time and preparing them in a way to yield the
maximum of return. For example, they are called upon in January to buy a
50 cent dinner for six persons. Laura Wickersham's cost list is:

Soup meat $0.20
Can of tomatoes .10
Spaghetti .05
Cheese .05
Bread .05
Butter, etc. .08
----
$0.53

Gus Potts, a mere boy, makes this suggestion:

Meat $0.20
Potatoes .05
Cabbage .05
Bread .05
Milk .04
Butter .05
Coffee .05
----
$0.49

In their cooking laboratory they learn to cook simple foods, one thing
at a time, until they reach the upper grades, where they must prepare
entire meals on limited allowances.

The sewing is equally practical. The girls learn to patch, darn, hem and
make underclothing and dresses. Then, going into homes where no
intelligent needlework has ever been done--where frequently a darning
needle is unknown--they teach the mother and older sisters how to sew,
until whole families, under the influence of one school child, improve
their wardrobe and reduce their cost for clothing. Certain sewing days
in school, called darning days, are sacred to the renovation of worn-out
garments which the girls bring from home.

The Oyler system may not turn out artists in dress design--it has no
such aim. The children who come to its class-rooms are ignorant of the
simplest devices known to civilization for the making of comfortable
homes. The domestic science courses are organized to take care of their
children by teaching them to be intelligent home-makers.

V Making Commercial Products in the Grades

No less practical is the work of the boys in the shops, since the great
majority of them will enter factories. The shop-work is designed to
familiarize them with the ideas underlying shop practice. Instead of
making useless joints and surfaces the boys turn out finished,
marketable products. The eighth grade boys, with the aid of the
instructor, have built a drill-press from the scraps of machinery which
were found lying about. Now they are at work on an engine. Elaborate
products you will say, for eighth grade boys, yet these boys are likely
interested, they do their task with zest, and linger about the shop
after school hours are over--anxious to complete the jobs which the
day's work has begun.

Boys in grades two to six made three dozen hammer handles for use in the
high school machine shops. Of forty-two pieces of rough stock there were
produced thirty-six handles, a record which some commercial shops might
envy. These same boys made a book and magazine rack, of rather elaborate
design, and an umbrella rack for each of the schools in Cincinnati.
These racks, displayed in the offices of the various principals, would
stand comparison with a high grade factory product. The boys are now
engaged in making a desk book-rack (a scroll saw exercise) for every
school teacher in Cincinnati. When they have finished there will be more
than a thousand.

Besides these routine class exercises the Oyler boys are privileged to
make anything which appeals to them and for which they can supply the
material. The school machines are theirs, subject to their use at any
time. Taking advantage of this, the boys sharpen the home knives and
hatchets, make axe handles, umbrella racks, hall stands, stools, sleds,
cane chairs, and repair or make any product which fancy or home
necessity may dictate.

VI A Real Interest in School

Let no one infer that the academic branches are neglected at Oyler. Far
from it, they are taught with consummate skill by a corps of teachers
who enjoy the work because they find the children interested. Strange to
relate, an interest in school came in at the front door with Mr.
Voorhes' new plan for applied education. The wild boys and dishevelled
girls of the West End, who had erstwhile hated school, came now to
participate in school activities with an interest seldom surpassed in
public or private schools.

"You see," Mr. Voorhes remarked, "a day a week in the shop or
laboratories is just about enough to keep down the high spirits of the
older ones, and at the same time give them an applied education of which
they feel the value. That one day of practical work did the trick. It
made the other four days of academic work taste just as good as pie."

Mr. Voorhes' plan arrived. It won the interest of the children and later
with the assistance of the Mothers' Club and the kindergarten it won the
sympathy of the community.

VII The Mothers' Club

Like all of the other school centers in Cincinnati, Oyler has a
kindergarten and a Mothers' Club, around which the change in community
feeling has centered, until Mr. Voorhes describes them as "the most
important influence that ever came into our school." Yet the
kindergarten here, as elsewhere, has had a life and death grapple for
existence. In the West End, dominated by its conservative, German
atmosphere, the pleas for kindergartens fell on deaf ears. At last,
after much preparation, a meeting of mothers and children was held for
the purpose of forming an organization; at the meeting there were
thirteen children and five mothers, and all antagonistic, or at best
suspicious.

"I went around and played with every one of those children," said Mr.
Voorhes, "talking to the mothers, and trying to persuade them that this
was not failure, but merely the forerunner of success. The next day I
went into every grade, saying to the children:

"'What was the matter? Mother did not come to the Mothers' Meeting
yesterday.'

"'Oh, she couldn't leave the baby.'

"'Leave the baby! Why, of course not. No one expected her to leave the
baby. Tell her to come and bring the baby along.'"

So another meeting was held, and another to which the babies were
brought--some women bringing as many as three, who were too young to go
to school. At one Mothers' Meeting, after the club had been well
organized, there were twenty women, listening, discussing and nursing
babies, all at once.

If the beginnings of the experiment were discouraging the results have
more than offset the original disappointment. At the last meeting (in
January) seventy of the eighty-five paid up members were present,
intelligent, eager, interested, participating heartily in the
discussions. It has cost years of labor, but these mothers have reached
the point where they can talk intelligently about the children and their
needs.

"Only yesterday," said Miss Phelps, Kindergarten Director, "one mother
said to me: 'I used to be the most impatient woman with my children--I
simply couldn't stand it when they refused to do what I told them. The
other day my mother said to me, "You're about the most patient woman I
ever saw. What's done it?" And I said to her: "Well, mother, I do not
know of anything except those folks at the kindergarten, which all
helped me to look at children in a very different way."'"

Through the Mothers' Meetings the mothers have come to feel that they
are co-operating with the teacher and the school. Those mothers who have
children in the upper grades as well as in the kindergarten go to the
grade teachers too, seeking advice, or making suggestions. They have
learned to feel that they are an essential part of the educational
plan, and their enthusiastic interest tells of the advantages gained by
this co-operation.

The Oyler Mothers' Club has been the center of the movement to clear up
the community. Through them and through the grades refuse has been
cleaned and kept from the streets. The club maintains, out of its fund,
a medicine chest at the school, which is used by the visiting nurse. It
has cleaned up the children, and that is no small item.

"Back in 1904," says Mr. Voorhes, "I had five hundred of the children
vaccinated in my office, and such dirt and vermin I never saw! Nearly
every child had the high water mark on his wrist, and their clothes and
bodies were filthy. They didn't know a bathtub from a horse trough; they
don't now for the matter of that, because there are scarcely a dozen
houses in this section that have bathtubs, but the children are clean."

Each year the old members of the Mothers' Club bring in the new mothers,
saying to Miss Phelps: "This is my mother, I brought her," "This is
mine!" with a delighted satisfaction in having added something to the
club. The kindergarten, filling two rooms, is thriving, and the
kindergarten teachers, visiting and advising in the home, are cordially
welcomed everywhere.

VIII The Disappearance of "Discipline"

"Discipline," smiled Mr. Voorhes, "no, we don't mention the word any
more. Five years ago the discipline problem in this school was more
serious than in any school in town. We couldn't handle it, not even with
a club. To-day the discipline looks after itself."

The disciplining of an undisciplined school may sound like an immensely
difficult task. Wrongly essayed it would be. Rightly directed it
becomes the merest child's play. The teachers have disciplined the
school--disciplined it through kindness--and here, again, the
inspiration may be traced to the Mothers' Club and the kindergarten, for
it was in the kindergarten that the first real attempt was made to bring
this school into closer relations with the home by home visiting. Little
by little the example told on the grade teachers, who went to see the
children when they were absent; nor was it long before a custom grew up
in the school, by virtue of which a teacher who wished to visit one
absent child, might pick her own time to make her visit. If perchance
the psychological moment was during school hours, she went then, while
another teacher or the principal took her place.

Among the many illustrations of the efficiency of this system one stands
out strongly. A boy had been away for a week, sick with rheumatism, when
his teacher decided to call and see him. She went hesitatingly, however,
for this boy had been rough and troublesome all through school, but
particularly to her. At last her mind was made up. She visited the boy
and came away radiant, overjoyed at the cordial reception he had given
her. Again she went, and the mother, opening the door with a glad face,
said:

"Come right in, Tom's been looking for you."

"Is he better?" the teacher asked.

"Yes, pretty much, but he said that he would get well right quick when
you came to see him again."

Does anyone wonder that the boy should feel so kindly over attentions to
which he was not accustomed? Is it strange that he should have come back
to school with a firm resolve to be decent to his teacher?

Discipline? There is no longer a problem of discipline. The teachers
are enthusiastic over the work, because they can see its results in the
changed homes and lives about them. The children engaged in occupations
which they enjoy and sensing the efforts of the school in their behalf,
discipline themselves by being frank and hearty in work or in play.

Mr. Voorhes is not surprised at this transformation. The plan on which
he staked his reputation was a simple one, based on the idea of serving
a community which he had studied carefully, by providing for it an
education that met its needs. Though revolutionary from an educational
viewpoint, the plan succeeded because it was socially sound--because it
linked together the school and the community, of which the school is a
logical part.

IX The Spirit of Oyler

Oyler has a motto, a very shibboleth, "The school for the community and
the community for the school." Not only do its principal and teachers
believe that the school must center its activities about the needs of
the community in which it is located, but they put their belief into
practice, studying the community diligently and seeking to find an
answer for every need which it manifests. Out of this spirit of service
has grown up a warmth of feeling and interest among the teachers seldom
surpassed anywhere.

"When I came to Oyler I felt about it as Sherman felt about war," says
Mr. Voorhes. "Now I would not trade places with any school man in
Cincinnati. The teachers feel the same way. Never yet have we had a
teacher who wanted to leave. Each one has her class, that is enough. We
have no problem of discipline now. The children and their parents are
working for the school.["]

Sometimes people get the idea that Mr. Voorhes does not do very much.
One visitor spent half a day observing, and then sitting down in his
office she said:

"Mr. Voorhes, I have been here half a day and I haven't seen you around
at all. What do you do?"

"Madam," answered Mr. Voorhes, "I am a man of leisure. All I do is to
sit here at this desk, ready to get behind any one of my teachers, with
two hundred and fifty pounds from the shoulder, in order to prevent
anybody or anything from getting in the way of her work."

Small wonder that the teachers like to stay. Small wonder that the work
which the school does commands the respect of the people of Cincinnati.
In the school, as well as in the neighborhood, each person has a task
and a fair chance to do it well.

From its position as "the worst school in Cincinnati" Oyler has risen,
first in its own esteem, and then in the esteem of the city, until it is
looked upon everywhere as a factor in the life of the west end, and an
invaluable cog in the educational machinery of the city. Its tone has
changed, too. Mr. Roberts, who came, a total stranger, to assist in the
work while Mr. Voorhes was sick, says, "I have never heard a word of
discourtesy or a bit of rudeness since I came to this school." That is
strong testimony for a new man in a new place. Splendidly done, Oyler!

Mr. Voorhes has not stopped working. On the contrary, he is at it harder
than ever, shaping his school to the ever-changing community needs. He
has stopped disciplining, though, and he has stopped wondering about the
success of his experiment. Time was when Oyler looked upon high school
attendance much as a New York gunman looks at Sunday School. Last year
of the thirty-three children in the eighth grade, eighteen--more than
half--went to high school. The tradition against high school has been
replaced by a healthy desire for more education. "One day a week in the
shops," Mr. Voorhes says, "means interest and enthusiasm. Our children
compete in high school with the children of grammar schools from the
well-to-do sections, and with the best our boys and girls hold their
own."

The community is interested. Parents and manufacturers alike come to the
school, consult, advise, suggest, co-operate. The school boy is no
longer sneered at by "the gang." The school has made its place in the
community, and "the gang" is enthusiastically engaged in school work.
The complexion of the neighborhood has changed, too. It is less rough,
the police have less to do. Houses are neater, children better clothed
and cared for. Oyler has won the hearts of its people, improved the food
on their tables and the clothes on their backs, sent the children to
high school, and their mothers to Mothers' Clubs; and the people who
once uttered their profanity indiscriminately in every direction now
swear by Oyler.

CHAPTER IX

VITALIZING RURAL EDUCATION

I The Call of the Country

There is a call of the land just as there is a call of the city, though
the call of the city has sounded so insistently during the past century
that men innumerable, heeding it, have cast in their lot with the
throngs of city dwellers. Yet the city proves so unsatisfying that
thousands are turning from its rows of brick houses and lines of paved
streets to the fruit trees, dairy herds, market gardens and broad acres
of the countryside. The call of the city is answered by a call which is
becoming equally distinct--the call "Back to the Land."

The ten-acre lot may not be any nearer paradise than the "Great White
Way," but there is about it a breadth of quiet wholesomeness which
cannot make its presence felt in the bustle of the clanging cars and the
rushing whirl of crowded streets. The unsmoked blue of the sky is over
the country, as are the fragrance of flowers, woods and mown grass; the
stars are brilliant by night, and by day the birds sing, and the cows
and barnyard fowls talk philosophically together. The children have room
to run and play between their periods of work, which is very near of kin
to blessedness, because, aside from being instructive, it binds the
child into the family group in a way that factory work can never do. The
country cries health and enthusiasm to the world-weary soul as it does
to the barefoot boy. Whittier was very near the heart of things when he
wrote:

Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lips, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill.

Despite the loneliness, isolation and overwork in some country places,
the rural life is, on the whole, very rich in--

Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools.

Country life holds a great promise for the future--a promise of vigorous
manhood and womanhood, and of earnest, sane living. Through the rapidly
progressing country school, more perhaps than through any other agency,
this promise may be fulfilled. There are two possibilities in the
development of the country school. On the one hand, several one-room
schools may be consolidated into one central graded school, to which the
children are transported at public expense; on the other hand, the
old-time, one-room school may be reorganized and vitalized.

II Making Bricks with Straw

Even the doughtiest son of the soil must needs admit that the farmer of
the past, living secluded in his house or village, was provincial,
narrow, bigoted and individualistic. Times are rapidly changing,
however, and out of the old desolation of rural individualism there is
arising the spirit of wholesome, virile co-operation, which has
transformed the face of many a country district almost in the twinkling
of an eye. Nowhere is this co-operative spirit better expressed than in
the consolidated country schools, which are organized, like the city
school, by subjects and grades.

Considered from any viewpoint, the consolidated school is superior, as a
form of organization, to the district school. Rather, the consolidated
school permits organization, and the district school does not. Wherever
it has been tried the testimony in favor of consolidation is
overwhelming.

"Comparison," cried one county superintendent in consternation.
"Comparison! There is no comparison. The old one-room school, like the
one-horse plough, has seen its day. The farmers in this country, after
figuring it out, have reached the conclusion that the one-room school is
in the same class with a lot of other old-fashioned machinery--good in
its day, but not good enough for them. That is why over eighty per cent
of our schools have been consolidated. You see it's this way: The
farmers need labor badly, and rather than see their sons go to a school
where they are called on once or twice a day by a sadly overworked
teacher they would put them to work on the farm. The consolidated school
wins them with its good course of study and the boys stay in school."

That is the first, and perhaps the most vital, advantage of the
consolidated school--it permits the enlargement of the course of study.
Sewing, cooking, agriculture, manual training, drawing and music, have
all been introduced, because the teachers have time for them. High
school work has been added, too. The consolidated school, in so far as
the course of study is concerned, is very nearly on a par with the
graded school of the city.

Have you ever attended a one-room country school? If you have not you
can form but the faintest idea of what it means to the teacher. Her day
is so split up with little periods of class work that she can never do
anything thoroughly. Here, for example, is an average schedule of work
for a one-room class in Indiana:

DAILY PROGRAM

FORENOON

Time Class Grade

8:30 Opening Exercises All
8:40 Reading Primary
8:45 Reading First
8:50 Reading Second
8:55 Reading Third
9:00 Reading Sixth
9:10 Grammar Fourth
9:20 Grammar Fifth
9:30 Grammar Sixth
9:40 Grammar Seventh
9:50 Grammar Eighth
10:00 Reading Fourth
10:10 Reading Seventh
10:20 Recess All
10:30 Reading Primary
10:40 Reading First
10:50 Numbers Second
11:00 Numbers Third
11:05 Arithmetic Fourth
11:15 Arithmetic Fifth
11:25 Arithmetic Seventh
11:35 Arithmetic Eighth
11:50 Reading Fifth
Noon Noon All

Appalling, do you say? What other word describes it adequately? There
are twenty-one teaching periods in the morning; twenty-four in the
afternoon. Forty-five times each day that teacher must call up and
teach a new class. The college professor is "overloaded" with fourteen
classes a week. This woman had two hundred and twenty-five. Will any one
be so absurd as to suppose that she can do them or herself justice?

Consolidation, among its many advantages, reduces the number of classes
per day, and increases the time which the teacher may devote to each
class. Note the contrast between that schedule of a one-room teacher and
the teaching schedule of a consolidated school teacher in the same
county:

TEACHER'S DAILY PROGRAM

FORENOON

Time Class Grade

8:30 Opening Exercises All
8:45 Desk 1-B
8:50 Phonetics 1-A
9:00 Phonetics 1-B
9:15 Reading 1-A
9:30 Reading Second
9:45 Rest Exercise All
10:00 Nature All
10:15 Rest All
10:30 Words 1-B
10:50 Words 1-A
11:10 Numbers Second
11:30 History 1-A

The "district," or one-room, schools in Montgomery County, Indiana, have
twenty-three pupils per teacher, scattered over six grades. The
consolidated schools in the same county show sixteen pupils per teacher,
in three grades. While the teacher in the district school averages
twenty-seven recitations a day, the teacher in the consolidated school
has eleven; but the time per recitation is: district, thirteen minutes;
consolidated, twenty-nine minutes. The number of minutes which the
district teacher may give to each grade is fifty minutes; the
consolidated teacher has one hundred and seventeen minutes per grade.
Badly sprinkled with figures as that statement is, it gives some idea of
the increased opportunities for effective teaching in the consolidated
school. No teacher can do justice to twenty-seven classes per day, and
an average recitation period of thirteen minutes is so short as to be
almost unworthy of mention.

Most consolidated schools, in addition to the ordinary rooms, have an
assembly room in which lectures, festivals, socials, public meetings,
and farmers' institutes are held. Acting as a center for community life,
the consolidated school takes a real place in the instruction of the
community. The big brick or stone building, well constructed and
surrounded, as it usually is, by well-kept grounds, furnishes the same
kind of local monument that the court house supplies in the county seat.
People point proudly to it as "their" public building. It is an
experience of note in traveling across an open farming country to come
suddenly upon a splendidly-equipped, two-story school, set down, at a
point of vantage, several miles away from the nearest railroad.

The consolidated school at Linden, Montgomery County, Indiana, for
example, situated in a town of scarcely three hundred inhabitants, is
equipped with gas from its own gas-plant; with steam heat; ample toilet
accommodations; an assembly room; and halls so broad that the primary
children may play some of their games there in bad weather.

One of the most widely discussed among consolidated schools is the John
Swaney Consolidated School, of Putnam County, Illinois.[22] The John
Swaney School occupies a twenty-four acre campus, lying a mile and a
half from the nearest village, and ten miles from the nearest town. The
agitation for consolidation in Putnam County led John Swaney and his
wife to give twenty-four acres as a campus for a local consolidated
school. Hence the name and much of the success which has attended the
work of the school.

The school cost $15,000, equipped. It is of brick with four class-rooms,
two laboratories, a library, offices, a manual training shop, a domestic
science kitchen, and a basement play-room. The building is lighted,
heated, and ventilated in the most modern fashion. The John Swaney
School thus came into existence with an equipment adequate for any
school and elaborate for a school situated far from the channels of
trade and industry.

The course of study organized includes all of the modern specialized
work which the effective city school is able to do. Securing good
teachers and possessing unique facilities, the school carries boys and
girls through a series of years, in which intellectual, experimental,
manual, recreational, and social activities combine to make the school
the center of community life and community influence.

The school campus is used as a laboratory and a play ground. The trees
provide subject matter for a course in horticulture. The fertile land is
turned to agricultural use, and the broad expanse of twenty-four acres
furnishes additional space for games and sports.

The social life of this school is no less effective than is its location
and equipment. The teachers' cottage, an old school building converted
for this purpose, furnishes a center for the life of the teaching staff,
and makes a background for the social life of the entire school. There
are two strong literary societies, including all of the pupils in the
school. Each year plays are presented on the school stage. There are
musical organizations, parents' conferences, entertainments, and
community gatherings of all descriptions. In every sense, the John
Swaney School is a community center.

Prosperity has followed in the wake of this educational development. The
John Swaney School is known far and wide, and consequently farm renters
and farm buyers alike seek the locality because of the educational
opportunities which the school affords for their children, and because
of the social opportunities which the community around the school
affords for them.

The movement for school consolidation, like many another good movement,
originated in Massachusetts. From that state it has spread extensively
to Indiana, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Idaho, Washington, and a number of
other states,--East, West, and South. In every progressive rural
community, wherever prosperous farmers and comfortable farm homes are
found, there the consolidation movement is being discussed, agitated, or
operated.

The movement toward consolidation has been particularly active during
the past few years in the South. The Southern States are, for the most
part, largely agricultural communities. The rural population far
outnumbers the urban population, and it is in these districts,
therefore, that the consolidated school can have its greatest influence.
By 1912, the state of Louisiana alone was able to report over 250
consolidated county schools. Georgia, Florida, and North Carolina show
themselves almost equally active in forwarding this generally accepted
progressive educational movement.

The difficulties involved in consolidation may be summed up under two
heads. There is, first of all, the conservatism and prejudice of those
people who believe that the things which were good enough for their
fathers, are still good enough for them. Secondly, there are the
technical difficulties involved in transporting pupils from distant
localities to the school center. Roads are bad at certain times of the
year. Wagons are costly. Desirable drivers are difficult to secure.
These factors, taken together, make the administrative difficulties of
the consolidated school far greater than those of the old-time one-room
country school.

The forces operating to overcome these difficulties are destined
ultimately to triumph. The widespread acceptance of an agricultural
education that followed upon the work of experiment stations,
universities and high schools, has convinced even the most reactionary
of the old-time group that there are, at least, certain things in the
new generation which surpass, in their economic and social value, the
like things of the old. The inroads of scientific agriculture have
played havoc with agricultural tradition and conservatism. The obvious
merits of the new scheme are destined to overcome the prejudices which
the long continuance of the old scheme created.

The technical difficulties of transportation are being met in a number
of ways. Wagon builders in various parts of the country are devoting
themselves to the designing and building of wagons which will be cheap
and effective. State and local authorities are actively engaged in the
improvement of roads. The near future promises a standard of
transportation facilities that will far surpass any that the
consolidation movement has thus far enjoyed. The details of
transportation administration are being worked out variously in
different communities, and always with a view to the particular needs of
the community involved.

While the disadvantages of consolidation lie mainly in the overcoming of
prejudice and the solution of administrative problems, the advantages of
consolidation seem to be primarily educational and social. The
consolidated school is the only method thus far devised for giving
graded school and high school privileges under adequately paid teachers
to the inhabitants of rural communities. Again the consolidated school
is the only method of securing a school attendance sufficiently large to
provide the incentive arising from competition and emulation for pupils
of each grade or age. Furthermore, the consolidated school, standing out
as the most distinctive feature of a rural landscape, is readily
converted into a center of rural life and activity where young folks and
old folks alike find a common ground for social interests.

The advantages of the rural school are thus summed up by Mabel
Carney,[23]--"For the complete and satisfying solution of the problem of
rural education and for the general reconstruction and redirection of
country life, the consolidated country school is the best agency thus
far devised." The reasons for this statement are summed up under seven
heads. In the first place, the consolidated school is a democratic,
public school, directly in the hands of the people who support it.
Secondly, it is at the door of farm houses and is wholly available, even
more available, when public transportation is provided, than the present
one-teacher school. Third, every child in the farm community is reached
by it. All children may attend because of the transportation facilities
afforded. Fourth, the cost of the school is reasonable. Fifth, it
accommodates all grades, including the high school. The country high
school, by excluding the younger children, denies modern educational
facilities to any except pupils of high school grade. Sixth, it
preserves a balanced course of study. While educating in terms of
farm-life experience, it does not force children prematurely into any
vocation, although it prepares them generally for all vocations. Lastly,
the consolidated school is the best social and educational center for
the rural community that has been thus far organized.

However just may be the judging of a tree by its fruit, the fruit of the
consolidation movement seems uniformly good. First, because the children
get to school; and second, because after they get there they are taught
something worth while.

When the schools of a district are consolidated, transportation must be
furnished for the students. Union Township, Montgomery County, Indiana,
covering one hundred and six square miles, has replaced thirty-seven
district schools with six consolidated schools. Some of the children are
brought as far as five miles in wagons, or on the interurban electric
cars. The wagon calls at stated hours, and the children must be ready.
Tardiness is therefore reduced, until one county reports ten hundred and
ninety-one cases of tardiness in its district schools (for 1910-11) and
ninety-two cases in consolidated schools, although in this county there
are more children in the consolidated than in the district schools.

Then, too, the children stay later in the consolidated schools. In
Montgomery County, Indiana, the children who have not finished the
eighth grade and who are staying away from school constitute twenty-nine
per cent. of the population in the consolidated schools, as against
sixty-three per cent. in the district schools. The Vernon consolidated
school in Trumbull County, Ohio, has enrolled nearly nine-tenths of the
children of school age. Before the consolidation only three-fifths were
in school.

Theoretically, the introduction of agriculture, manual training, and
other applied courses which are found in most consolidated schools,
should have some effect on the lives of the children. In order to show
its extent Superintendent Hall, of Montgomery County, Indiana, asked one
thousand children (five hundred in district schools and five hundred in
consolidated schools) what they proposed to do after they left school.
Arranged according to the kind of school in which the children were, the
answers showed as follows:

_District_ _Consolidated_
_Chosen Profession_ _Schools_ _Schools_

Teaching 151 122
Business 123 73
Farming 92 129
Law 55 21
Mechanics 48 86
Medicine 13 9
Ministry 12 4
Stock-breeding 3 41
Miscellaneous 3 15
--- ---
Total 500 500

Agricultural studies--stock-breeding and farming--and mechanics show up
strongly in the consolidated schools, at the expense of teaching,
business and law in the district schools. While such figures do not
prove anything, they indicate the direction in which the minds of
consolidated school children are moving.

Eli M. Rapp, of Berks County, Pennsylvania, voices the spirit of the
consolidation movement when he says:

"The consolidated school furnishes the framework for a well-organized,
rural education. Its course of study is broader, its appeal is stronger,
its service to the community more pronounced, and, best of all, it holds
the children. Progressive rural communities have wakened up to the fact
that unless their children are educated together there is a strong
probability that they will be ignorant separately."

III Making the One-Room Country School Worth While

The brilliant success of the consolidated schools reveals the
possibilities of team-work in rural education, but it cannot detract
from the wonderful work which has been done, and is still being done, by
the one-room rural school. Always there will be districts so sparsely
settled that the consolidated school is not feasible. In such localities
the one-room school, transformed as it may be by enlightened effort,
must still be relied upon to provide education. Nor is this outcome
undesirable. The one-room country school bristles with educational
possibilities. Under intelligent direction, even its cumbersome
organization may yield a plenteous harvest of useful knowledge and
awakened interest.

The droning reading lesson and the sing-song multiplication table are
heard no more in the progressive country school. In their place are
English work, which reflects the spirit of rural things, and the
arithmetic of the farm. Here is a boy of thirteen, in a one-room country
school, writing an essay on "Selecting, Sowing and Testing Seed Corn,"
an essay amply illustrated by pen and ink drawings of growing corn, corn
in the ear and individual corn kernels. Mabel Gorman asks, "Does it pay
the farmer to protect the birds?" After describing the services of birds
in destroying weed seeds and dangerous insects and emphasizing their
beauty and cheerfulness, she concludes: "The question is, does it pay
the farmer to protect the birds?" The only answer is that anything that
adds to the attractiveness of the farm is worthy of cultivation. Happily
a farmer who protects the birds secures a double return--increased
profit from his crop and increased pleasure of living. Viola Lawson,
writing on the subject, "How to Dust and Sweep," makes some pertinent
comments. "I think if a house is very dirty, a carpet sweeper is not a
very good thing. A broom is best, because you can't get around the
corners with a sweeper." Note this hint to the school board: "We spend
about one-third of our time in the school house, so it is very important
to keep the dust down. The directors ought to let the school have
dustless chalk. If they did there wouldn't be so much throat trouble
among teachers and children. Then so many children are so careless about
cleaning their feet, boys especially. They go out and curry the horses,
and clean out the stables, and get their feet all nasty. Then they come
to school and bring that dust into the schoolroom. Isn't that awful?"
Viola is thirteen.

Over in eastern Wisconsin Miss Ellen B. McDonald, County Superintendent
of Oconto County, has her children engaged in contests all the year
round--growing corn, sugar beets, Alaska peas and potatoes; the boys
making axe handles and the girls weaving rag carpet. During the summer
Miss McDonald writes to the children who are taking part in the contests
suggesting methods and urging good work. One of the letters began with
the well-known lines:

Say, how do you hoe your row, young man,
Say, how do you hoe your row,
Do you hoe it fair, do you hoe it square,
Do you hoe it the best you know?

"How are you getting along with the contests?" continues the letter.
"Are you taking good care of your beets, peas, corn or garden? Remember
that it will pay you well for all the work you do upon it." In reply one
girl writes: "My corn is a little over five feet high. My tomatoes have
little tomatoes on, but mamma's are just beginning to blossom. My beets
are growing fine. I planted them very late. My lettuce is much better
than mamma's. We have been eating it right along." Mark the note of
exultation over the fact that her crop is ahead of her mother's.

Sometimes the school child brings from school knowledge which materially
helps his father. Here is a Wisconsin English lesson, and a proof of the
saying, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," all in one.

These country boys and girls take an interest in English work, because
it deals with the things they know. Miss Ellen B. McDonald, County
Superintendent of Schools in Oconto County, Wisconsin, publishes a
column of school news in each of the three county newspapers. Here is
one of her contributions, in the form of an English lesson and a
counting lesson combined: (A "rag-baby tester" is a device for
determining the fertility of seed corn before it is planted.)

"My dear Miss McDonald:

"The rag-baby tester is causing a whole lot of excitement. We
have tested one lot and this morning started another. We notice
one thing in particular, the corn which was dried by stove heat
sprouts perfectly, while that dried in granaries, etc., is not
sprouting at all. Last fall papa saved his seed corn, selecting
it very carefully, and hung it up in the granary to dry. I
selected several ears from the same field and at the same time,
and dried them on the corn tree at school. Upon testing them
this spring papa's corn does not sprout at all, while mine is
sprouting just exactly as good as the Golden Glow sent out to
the school children. This morning I am testing some more of
papa's, and if that fails he will have to buy his seed, a thing
he has never had to do before. We tested the corn secured from
four of our interested farmers last week and one lot germinated;
the other three did not. This morning pupils from seven
different homes brought seed to be tested. We had a package of
last year's seed left and tested several kernels of that, as
well as some sent out this year, and we think last year's seed
is testing a little the better."

The new arithmetic, like the new English, deals with the country. It
seems a little odd, just at first, to see boys and girls standing at the
board computing potato yields, milk yields, the contents of granaries,
the price of bags and the cost of barns and chicken houses; yet what
more natural than that the country child should figure out his and
perhaps his father's problems in the arithmetic class at school?

The geography is no less pertinent. Soil formation, drainage, the
location and grouping of farm buildings, the physical characteristics of
the township and of the county are matters of universal interest and
concern. Every school in Berks County, Pennsylvania, is provided with a
fine soil survey map of the county, made by the United States Geological
Survey. What more ideal basis for rural geography?

Here and there a country school is waking up to the physical needs of
country children. "Country boys are not symmetrically developed,"
asserts Superintendent Rapp, of Berks County. "They are flat-chested and
round-shouldered." That is interesting, indeed. Mr. Rapp explains: "It
is because of the character of their work, nearly all of which tends to
flatten the chest. Whether or not that is the explanation, the fact
remains, and with it the no less evident fact that it is the business of
the school to correct the defects. In an effort to do this we have
worked out a series of fifty games which the children are taught in the
schools." In May a great "Field Day and Play Festival" is held, to which
the entire county is invited. Each school trains and sends in its teams.
Trolleys, buggies, autos and hay wagons contribute their quota, until
five thousand people have gathered in an out-of-the-way spot to help the
children enjoy themselves.

Mr. Rapp is a great believer in activity. Tireless himself, he has fifty
teacher-farmers--men who teach in the winter and farm in the summer--an
excellent setting for country boys and girls. He believes in activity
for children, too. "If the school appealed as it ought to the motor
energies of children, instead of having to drive them in, you would have
to drive them out." To prove his point Mr. Rapp cites the instance of
one man teacher, who, before the days of manual training in the schools,
decided to have manual training in his one-room Berks County school.

"He did the work himself," Mr. Rapp says, "dug out the cellar and set up
a shop in it. The only help he had was the help of the pupils, and the
work was done in recess time and after school. They made their own
tools, cabinets, book-cases, picture-frames, clock-frames, and anything
else they wanted. And do you know, when it got dark, that man would
send the children home from the school in order to be rid of them."

Consolidated schools help. They make rural education broader and easier,
but the one-room country school, presided over by a live teacher, may be
made worth while. Social events, sports, contests in farm work and
domestic work, studies couched in terms of the country, may all prove
potent factors in shaping the child and the community.

IV Repainting the Little Red Schoolhouse

Without, as well as within, the little red school-house may be
transformed. The course of study may establish a standard in rural
thought. The rural school-house may set a standard of rural architecture
and landscape gardening.

How typical of old-time country schools are the lines:

Still sits the school-house by the road,
A ragged beggar sunning.
Around it still the sumacs grow,
And blackberry vines are running.

The unpainted, rough exterior of the little school vied with the unkempt
school grounds. Both supplied subjects for artistic treatment. To the
consternation of the poet and the romancer, the modern one-room school
is painted, and the school yard, instead of being filled with a thicket
of blackberry and sumac, is laid out for playground, flower-beds and
gardens. The up-to-date country school, while far less picturesque, is
much more architectural and more useful.

The State Superintendent of Education in Wisconsin furnishes free to
local school boards plans of modern one-room schools. With a hall at
each end for wraps, an improved heating and ventilating device, and all
of the light coming from the north side, where there is one big window
from near the floor to the ceiling, these buildings, costing from two
thousand dollars up, provide in every way for the health and comfort of
the children. The superintendent may go farther than to suggest in
Wisconsin, however, for if a school building becomes dilapidated he may
condemn it, and then state aid to local education is refused until
suitable buildings are provided. The law has proved an excellent
deterrent to educational parsimony.

Superintendent Kern, of Rockford, Illinois, has done particularly
effective work in beautifying his schools. Within the schools are
tastefully painted and decorated. Outside there are flower-beds, hedges,
individual garden plots, neatly-cut grass, and all of the other
necessaries for a well-kept yard. No longer crude and unsightly, the
Rockford school yards are models which any one in the neighborhood may
copy with infinite advantage. As the school becomes the center of
community life local pride makes more and more demands. Could you visit
some of the finer school buildings in Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin and
Illinois you would be better able to understand why men boast of "Our
School" in the same tone that they use when boasting of their corn
yields.

V A Fairyland of Rural Education

You will perhaps be somewhat skeptical--you big folks who have ceased to
believe in little people--when you hear that out in western Iowa there
is a county which is an educational fairyland. Yet if you had traveled
up and down the country, gone into the wretched country school
buildings, seen the lack-luster teaching and the indifferent scholars,
which are so appallingly numerous; if you had read in the report of the
investigating committee which has just completed its survey of Wisconsin
rural schools the statement that in many districts the hog pens were on
a better plane of efficiency than the school houses; if you had seen the
miserable inadequacy of country schools North, East, South and West, and
had then been transported into the midst of the school system of Page
County, Iowa, you would have been sure that you had passed through the
looking-glass into the queer world beyond. Yet Page County is there--a
fairyland presided over by a really, truly fairy.

The schools in Page County, Iowa, which, by the way, is one of the best
corn counties in Iowa, are little republics in which the children have
the fun, do the work and grow up strong and kind. Each school has its
song, its social gatherings, its clubs, and its teams. How you would
have pricked up your ears if you had driven past the Hawley School and
heard a score of lusty voices shouting the school song to the tune of
"Everybody's Doing It!"

December was the time of the Page County contests, when each school sent
its exhibits of dressmaking, cooking, rope-splicing, barn-planning,
essay-writing and its corn-judging teams to the county seat, where they
were displayed and judged very much as they would be at a county fair.
Further, it was the time when the prizes were to be awarded to the boy
having the best acre of alfalfa, of corn and of potatoes. (Queer, isn't
it, but last year a girl got the first prize for the best crop of
potatoes.) December is a great month in Page County. This year more than
three thousand exhibits were sent into Clarinda, the county seat. Every
boy and girl is on tip-toe with expectancy, and after the awards the
successful schools are as proud as turkey cocks.

"We have never taken the thing seriously here before," explained a
farmer who had left his work in mid-afternoon and come in to teach the
boys of a school how to judge seed corn. "This year we're going down
there to Clarinda for all that's in it." If he hadn't meant what he said
he would scarcely have been spending his hours in the school-room. If
the Hawleyville boys had not been thoroughly in earnest they would not
have been there, after school, learning how to judge corn.

The community around each school is agog with excitement while
preparations are being made for the county contest. The men folk advise
the boys regarding their corn-judging and their models of farm
implements and farm buildings, while the women give lessons galore in
the mysteries of country cooking, for it is no small matter to be hailed
and crowned as the best fourteen-year-old cook in Page County, Iowa.

One Page County teacher conducts her domestic science work in the
evening at the homes of the girls. On a given day of each week the
entire class visits the home of one of the girls, prepares, cooks and
eats a meal. What an opportunity to inculcate lessons in domestic
economy at first hand! What a chance to show the behind-the-time
housekeeper (for there are such even in Page County) how things are
being done!

Because Page County is a great corn county much school time is devoted
to corn. In every school hangs a string of seed corn which is brought in
by the boys in the fall, dried during the winter, and in the spring
tested for fertility. A Babcock milk-tester, owned by the county,
circulates from school to school, enabling the children to test the
productivity of their cows. Teams of boys, under the direction of the
school, make their own road drags, and care for stretches of road--from
one to five miles. The boys doing the best work are rewarded with
substantial prizes. Do you begin to suspect the reason for the interest
which the big folks take in the doings of Page County's little folks? It
is because the little folks go to schools which are a vital part of the
community.

Three times a year there is, in each school, a gathering of the friends
and parents of the children. Sometimes they celebrate Thanksgiving,
sometimes they have a "Parents' Day." Anyway, the boys decorate the
school, the girls cook cake and candy, and the parents come and have a
good evening. The children begin with their school song, sung, perhaps,
like this Kile School song, to the tune of "Home, Sweet Home":

1. What school is the dearest,
The neatest and best,
What school is more pleasant,
More dear than the rest,
Whose highways and byways
Have charms from each day,
Whose roads and alfalfa,
They have come to stay.

_Chorus._
Kile, Kile, our own Kile,
We love her, we'll praise her,
We'll all work for Kile.

2. Whose corn is so mellow,
Whose cane is so sweet,
Whose taters are so mellow,
Whose coal's hard to beat,
Whose Ma's and whose Grandpa's
Are brave, grand and true,
Their love for their children
They never do rue.

There follows a program like the program of any other social evening,
except that very often the parents take part as well as the children.
The things are interesting, too, like this little duet, sung at the
Thanksgiving entertainment by two of the Kile girls:

1. If a body pays the taxes,
Surely you'll agree,
That a body earns a franchise,
Whether he or she.

_Chorus._
Every man now has the ballot,
None, you know, have we,
But we have brains and we can use them,
Just as well as he.

2. If a city's just a household,
As it is, they say,
Then every city needs housecleaning,
Needs it right away.

3. Every city has its fathers,
Honors them, I we'en,
But every city must have mothers,
That the house be clean.

4. Man now makes the laws for women,
Kindly, too, at that,
But they often seem as funny
As a man-made hat.

The grand event of this fairyland comes in the summer, when the boys and
girls from all of the schools go to the county seat for a summer camp,
where, between attending classes and lectures, playing games and
reveling in the joys of camp life, they come to have a very much broader
view of the world and a more intense interest in one another.

They are only one-room schools out there in Page County, but they have
adapted themselves to the needs of the community, focusing the attention
of parents and children alike on the bigger things in rural life, and
the ways in which a school may help a countryside to appreciate and
enjoy them. So the boys and girls of Page County have their fairyland,
and are devoted to the good fairy, who, in the shape of a generous,
kindly county superintendent, helps them to enjoy it.

VI The Task of the Country School

The teacher of a one-room school in Berks County was quizzing a class
about Columbus.

"Where was he born?" she queried.

"In Genoa."

"And where is Genoa, Ella?"

"On the Mediterranean Sea," replied Ella promptly.

"What was his business?" was her next question.

"He was a sailor," ventured a bright boy. "A sailor," chorused the
class.

"Why was he a sailor, Edith?" Edith shook her head.

"Yes, George."

"Why, because he lived on the sea."

"Of course. Now think a minute. Do many of the boys from this country
become sailors?"

"No'm," from the class.

"What do they become?"

"Farmers," cried the class, hissing the "f" and flattening the "a."

Certainly, the boys in a farming community, brought up on the farm,
naturally become farmers, yet in the interim, between babyhood and
farmer life, they go to school. How absurdly easy the task of the
school--to determine that they shall be intelligent, progressive,
enthusiastic, up-to-date farmers. The girls, too, marry farmers, keep
farmers' homes and raise farmers' sons. How simple is the duty of seeing
that they are prepared to do these things well!

The task of the city school is complex because of the vast number of
businesses, professions, industrial occupations and trades which
children enter. In comparison the country school has the plainest of
plain sailing. What are the ingredients of successful farmers and
farmers' wives? What proportion of physical education, of mental
training, of technical instruction in agriculture, of suggestions for
practical farm work, of dressmaking, sewing and cooking, enter into the
making of farmers' boys and farmers' girls who will live up to the
traditions of the American farm? To what extent must the school be a
center for social activity and social enthusiasm? How shall the school
make the farm and the small country town better living places for the
men and women of to-morrow?

The duty of the country school is simple and clear. It must fit country
children for country life. First it must know what are the needs of the
country; then, manned by teachers whose training has prepared them to
appreciate country problems, it will become the power that a country
school ought to be in directing the thoughts and lives of the
community.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 22: An extensive reference to this school will be found
in "Country Life and the Country School," Mabel Carney, Row,
Peterson & Company, Chicago, 1912.]

[Footnote 23: Supra, pp. 180-181.]

CHAPTER X

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES AND SUCKLINGS

I Miss Belle

The sun shone mildly, though it was still late January, while the wind,
which occasionally rustled the dry leaves about the fence corners, had
scarcely a suggestion of winter in its soft touch. Across the white
pike, and away on either side over the rolling blue grass meadows, the
Kentucky landscape unfolded itself, lined with brown and white fences,
and dotted with venerable trees. A buggy, drawn by a carefully-stepping
bay horse, came over the knoll ahead, framing itself naturally into the
beautiful landscape. Surely, that must be Joe and Miss Belle; it was so
like her, since she always seemed at home everywhere, making herself a
natural part of her surroundings. Another moment and there was no longer
any doubt. It was Miss Belle with three youngsters crowded into her lap
and beside her in the narrow buggy seat, while a dangling leg in the
rear suggested an occupant of the axle.

"Well, well," cried Miss Belle, cordially, as Joe stopped, glad of any
excuse not to go, "where are you bound for? You didn't come all the way
over to ride back with me?"

"No, indeed, Miss Belle," I laughed back, "no one ever expects to ride
with you so near the school-house. I'll walk along ahead until you begin
to unload."

"Go along, now you're casting reflections on Joe's speed. Come, Joe,
we'll show him." Joe, who did not leave his accustomed walk at once,
finally yielded to the suggestion of a gentle blow from the whip and
broke into a trot.

"Lem'me walk with you," cried the rider on the springs, slipping from
her perch and stepping out beside the buggy. So we journeyed for half a
mile. The horse, under constant urging, jogged along, while the spring
rider and I trotted side by side over the well-made pike. Then Miss
Belle drew rein in front of a small, yellow house.

"Now, out you go," she exclaimed to her young companions. "All out here
but one. Goodbye, dearies. All right, up you get," and in a moment we
were snugly fixed in the buggy for a half hour's ride behind Joe.

"You see those two little girls who got off there," said Miss Belle,
pointing to the house we had just left, "well, they are two of a family
of six--two younger than those. Their mother died last winter, so
naturally I take an interest in them. Their father does his best with
them, but it is a big task for a man to handle alone."

The last child was unloaded by this time, and Miss Belle, settling
herself back comfortably, chatted about her work in a one-room country
school in the Blue Grass belt of Kentucky.

II Going to Work Through the Children

"Maybe there are thirty-five families that my school ought to draw
from," she began. "Six years ago when I took this school some of them
surely did need help. Dearie me! The things they didn't know about
comfort and decency would fix up a whole neighborhood for life. They
wore stockings till they dropped off. Some of the girls put on sweaters
in October, wore them till Christmas, washed them, and then wore them
till spring. You never saw such utterly wretched homes. There was hardly
a window shade in the neighborhood, nor a curtain either. It wasn't that
the women didn't care--they simply didn't know.

"I saw it all," said Miss Belle, nodding her head thoughtfully, "and it
worried me a great deal at first. I just had to get hold of those people
and help them--I had made up my mind to that. Impatience wouldn't do,
though, so I said to myself, 'Now, my dear, don't you be in any hurry.
You can't do anything with the old folks, they're too proud. If you
succeed at all it's got to be through the children.' So I just waited,
keeping my eyes open, and teaching school all of the while, until, the
first thing I knew, the way opened up--you never would guess how--it was
through biscuits.["]

III Beginning on Muffins

"The folks around here never had seen anything except white bread. There
wasn't a piece of cornbread or of graham anywhere. You know what their
white bread is, too--heavy, sour, badly made and only half cooked. The
old folks were satisfied, though, and there didn't seem to be any way to
go at it except through the youngsters. Day after day I saw them take
raw white biscuits and sandwiches made of salt-rising white bread out of
their baskets, wondering how they could eat them. Still I didn't say
anything, but every lunch time I ate corn muffins or graham wafers, with
all of the gusto I could master. One day a little girl up and asked me:

"'Say, Miss Belle, what may you all be eatin'?'

"'Corn muffins,' said I. 'Ever taste them?'

"'Nope.'

"'Well, wouldn't you like a taste?'

"'Sure I would.'

"She took it, and a great big one, too. 'Um,' says she, smacking her
lips, 'Um.'

"'Like it?' I asked.

"'Um,' says she again, like a baby with a full stomach.

"'Oh, Miss Belle,' piped up Annie, 'how do you make 'em?'

"That was the chance I had been waiting for.

"'Would you like to know?' I asked, and to a chorus of 'Sure,' ''Deed we
would,' 'Oh, yes,' I put the recipe on the board, and it wasn't two days
before those girls brought in as good corn muffins as I ever tasted.
Little Annie is a good cook--never saw a better--and before the week was
out she says to me:

"'Miss Belle, ma's mad with you.'

"'What all's the matter?' I asked.

"'She says since you taught us to make those corn muffins she'll be
eaten out of house and home. The first night I made 'em pa ate eleven.
He hasn't slackened off a bit since. He must have 'em every day.'

"That made the going pretty easy," Miss Belle went on. "The muffins were
mighty good, they were new, and, by comparison, the white biscuits
didn't have a show. It wasn't long before I had the whole neighborhood
making corn muffins, graham wafers, black bread, graham bread and
whole-wheat bread. They sure did catch on to the idea quickly. Every
Monday I put a recipe on the board. These women knew how to cook the
fancy things. It was the plain, simple, wholesome things that they
needed to know about, so my recipes were always for them. During the
week each of the children cooks the thing and brings it to me, and the
one who gets the best result puts a recipe on the board Friday.

"You see, after I once got started it wasn't hard to follow up any line
I liked. By the time I was putting a recipe a week on the board the
mothers got naturally interested and would come to school to ask about
this recipe and that. They wouldn't take any advice, you understand, not
they! They knew all about cooking, so they thought, but they were mighty
proud of the things their daughters did, particularly when they took the
prizes at the county fair. Besides that, it made a whole lot of
difference at home, because the things they made helped out a lot and
tasted mighty good on the table."

Miss Belle's next move was against the cake--soggy, sticky stuff, full
of butter, that was very generally eaten by all of the families that
could afford it. Expensive and fearfully indigestible it made up,
together with bread, almost the entire contents of most lunch baskets.

"I couldn't see quite how to go about the cake business," Miss Belle
commented, "because they were particularly proud of it. Finally, though,
I hit on an idea. One of the women in the neighborhood was sick. She was
a good cook and knew good cooking when she saw it, so I got my sister to
make an angel cake, which I took around to her. I do believe it was the
first light cake she had ever tasted--anyway, she was tickled to death.
It wasn't long after that before every one who could afford to do it was
making angel food. Of course it's expensive, but since they were bound
to make cake, that was a lot better than the other."

Similar tactics gradually replaced the fried meats by roasts and stews.
When Miss Belle came, meat swam in fat while it cooked and came from the
stove loaded with grease. Everybody fried meat, and when by chance they
bought a roast they began by boiling all of the juice out of it before
they put it in the oven. Miss Belle's stews and roasts made better
eating, though. The men-folks liked them hugely and the old frying
process was doomed.

"No," concluded Miss Belle, laughingly, "you can't do a thing with the
old folks. Why if I was to go into a kitchen belonging to one of those
women and tell her how to sift flour she would run me out quick, but
when Annie comes home and makes such muffins that the man of the family
eats eleven the first time, there is no way to answer back. The muffins
speak for themselves."

IV Taking the Boys in Hand

While the girls were making over the diet of the neighborhood Miss Belle
was working through the boys to improve the strains of corn used by the
farmers, the methods of fertilizing and the quality of the truck
patches. A few years ago when the farmer scorned newfangled ideas it was
the boys that took home methods for numbering and testing each ear of
corn to determine whether or not the kernels on it would sprout when
they were planted. The farmer who turns a deaf ear to argument can offer
no effective reply to a corn-tester in which only one kernel in three
has sprouted. The ears are infertile, from one cause or another, and the
sooner he replaces them by fertile seed the better for his corn crop.

Out beside a white limestone pike stands the school in which Miss Belle
has done her work. One would hardly stop to look at it, because it
differs in no way from thousands of similar country school-houses.
Modest and unassuming, like Miss Belle, it holds only one feature of
real interest--the faces of the children. Bright, eager, enthusiastic,
they labor earnestly over their lessons in order that they may get at
their "busy work," and linger over their "busy work" during recess and
after school, because it glides so swiftly from their deft fingers. In
this, as in everything else which she does, Miss Belle has a system. The
child whose lessons are not done, and done up to a certain grade, is not
taught new stitches or new designs. Even the youngest responds to the
stimulus, and the little girl in a pink frock, with pink ribbons on her
brown pig-tails, lays aside the mat she is making to write "Annie Belle
Lewis" on the board, and to tell you that she is seven; while John
Murphy, of the mature age of eleven, stops crocheting ear-mufflers for a
moment to tell you what he is doing and why he does it.

V "Busy Work" as an Asset

"You never would guess what a help the 'busy work' is," smiled Miss
Belle. "You see, they never can do it until their lessons are finished,
so they are as good at arithmetic as they are at patching. Then I always
teach the little ones patterns and stitches where they have to count,
'One, two, three, four, five, and drop one,' you know, and in the
shortest time they learn their number work. It seems to go so much more
quickly when they do it in connection with some pieces that they can
see. But you never would guess the best thing the sewing has done--it
has stopped gossiping. It's hard to believe, I know, but it's true.
There used to be a lot of trouble in this neighborhood. People told
tales, there was ill feeling, and folks quarreled a great deal of the
time. It wasn't long before I found out that it was the girls who did
most of the tale-bearing. No wonder, either! They weren't very busy in
school, and they had nothing much to do at home except to listen and
talk. Really, they hadn't any decent interest in life. Of course there
was no use in saying anything, but I felt that if I could get them busy
at something they liked they would stop talking. It wasn't enough to
start them at dressmaking, either, but when I started in on hard, fancy
work designs I had them. They made pretty clothes, embroidered them;
made lace and doilies. Most of the girls can pick up a new Irish-lace
pattern from a fashion-book as easily as I can, and they are rabid for
new patterns. The same girls who did most of the tale-bearing are busy
at work, and I find them swapping patterns and recipes instead of
stories."

While the girls patch, darn, crochet, hem, knit, weave baskets, make
garments and do the various kinds of "busy work," the boys clean the
school yard, plant walnut trees--Mrs. Faulconer, the County
Superintendent, is having the school children plant nut trees along all
the pikes--and do anything else which is not beneath their dignity.
"They have no work benches," lamented Miss Belle, "I hope they will get
them soon, although there is really no place to put them." Indeed, in a
little building packed with fifty children and the school-room furniture
the space is narrow.

Yet this little one-room building at Locust Grove has left such a mark
on the community that when the County School Board recently decided to
transfer Miss Belle to a larger school the member from her district
promptly resigned, and refused to be placated until every other member
of the board had apologized to him and promised to leave Miss Belle in
his school.

"We never saw the old gentleman mad before," said a neighbor. "But he
certainly was mad then. He had watched Miss Belle's work grow, and knew
what it had meant to the children; so when they proposed to take her
away he went right up in the air."

VI Marguerite

What wonder? He had seen the magic workings of a hand that felt the
pulse, judged the symptoms, and prescribed a sure-to-cure remedy for a
countryside full of ignorance, drunkenness, bitter hatreds and
never-ending quarrels. Within a stone's throw of his house he had seen
the transformation in the life of a little girl named Marguerite. Since
her birth she had lived in darkness, but into her desolate home Miss
Belle had sent light.

"You never saw a worse home," says Miss Belle. "Her mother was woefully
ignorant of everything in the way of home-making. The children were
wretchedly dressed. The house was barrenness itself--no shades, no
curtains, no decorations of any kind. It was pathetic. When she came to
school neither she nor her mother could sew a stitch."

Marguerite, an apt girl with her fingers, eagerly learned the needlework
lessons of the school. She taught her mother to sew, while she herself
made portieres and curtains, lightening up the old home with a rare new
beauty.

Here again is Lillie, who is very slow at needlework and arithmetic, but
who has put the family diet on a wholesome basis by learning to cook
some of the most delicious, nourishing dishes. Her bread--the best in
Fayette County--is light as a feather. Hannah comes back after leaving
school to learn how to ply her needle. Until a year ago Christmas she
could not sew a stitch; now her stitches are so neat as to be almost
invisible. Mrs. Hawly, aroused to enthusiasm by her thirteen-year-old
daughter, has come to school, learned plain and fancy sewing, and
started to make her own and her daughter's clothes. Everywhere are the
marks of a teacher's handiwork stamped indelibly on the lives of her
scholars and their families. Small wonder that the old gentleman on the
board was loath to part with Miss Belle!

VII Winning Over the Families

With supreme joy Miss Belle tells of her conquest of the fathers of her
boys and girls--her family, as she calls it. "The children were very
poorly cared for," she says. "The fathers spent the money for whiskey,
and the mothers lacked the means and the knowledge to clothe the
children better. Sometimes they were pitiful in their poor shoes and
thin clothes. Well, sir, we got up a Christmas entertainment, and,
except for one or two, the children wore the same clothes they had been
coming to school in all winter--shabby, patched and dirty as some of
them were. They stood up there, though, one and all, to do their turns
and speak their pieces, and their fathers were ashamed. They saw their
children in old clothes, and the children of some of the neighbors all
fixed up, and they just couldn't stand it.

"It surely did make a difference the next year." Miss Belle's cheery
face broadened with a satisfied smile. "The men didn't say a word--you
know our men aren't in the habit of saying very much--but they went to
town themselves the day before the entertainment and came back with new
dresses for the girls and new clothes for the boys. Of course some of
them were so small they would scarcely go on, while others were miles
big; but every one had something new and no one felt badly.

"This Christmas," concluded Miss Belle, "our entertainment packed the
school-house, and some were turned away. Just to show you how crowded it
was--there were twenty-four babies there. I was ready for them, though,
with two pounds of stick candy; so whenever a baby squalled he got a
stick of candy quick."

Strange, good things have followed the visits of the mothers to the
schools. They would never have come had it not been for the wonderful
things which their children were learning with such untoward enthusiasm.
One girl, who had been particularly successful with her needlework,
brought her mother to school--a hard woman who had a standing quarrel
with seven of her neighbors at that particular time. It took a little
tact, but when the right moment arrived Miss Belle suggested that she
pay a visit to a sick neighbor and offer to help. The woman went at
last, found that it was a very pleasant thing on the whole to be
friendly, and carried the glad tidings into her life, substituting
kindness for her previous rule of incivility. To her surprise her
enemies have all disappeared.

The mothers, coming to school to talk over the work of their children,
have for the first time seen one another at their best. Sitting over a
friendly cup of tea, chatting about Jane's dress or Willie's lessons,
they have learned the art of social intercourse. Slowly the lesson has
come to them, until to-day there is not a woman in the neighborhood who
is not on speaking terms with every one else, a situation undreamed of
five years ago.

Nine months in each year Miss Belle McCubbing holds her classes in the
Locust Grove School, which stands on the Military Pike, seven miles
outside of Lexington, Kentucky. "Angels watch over that school," says
Mrs. Faulconer. Doubtless these angels are the good angels of the
community, for in six years the bitterness of neighborhood gossip and
controversy has been replaced by a spirit of neighborly helpfulness.
Boys and girls, doing Miss Belle's "busy work," fathers and mothers
learning from their children, have heaped upon Miss Belle's deserving
head the peerless praise of a community come to itself--regenerated in
thought and act, turned from the wretchedness and desolation of the past
to the light and civilization of the future, saved and blessed by the
lives of a teacher and her children.

CHAPTER XI

WIDE-AWAKE SLEEPY EYE

I Fitting Schools to Needs

This is the story of a school that was built to fit a town, and it
begins with a hypothetical case. Suppose that there was a town--a
prosperous town of some 2,247 souls, set down in the middle of a
well-to-do farming district. As for business, the town has a few
industries and some stores; the countryside is engaged in general
farming. Suppose that the school board of such a town should come to you
and say: "We are looking for a school superintendent. Are you the one?"
Suppose you said, "Yes." How would you prove your point?

Out in Minnesota there is a town named Sleepy Eye, set down in a
well-to-do farming district. At the head of the Sleepy Eye schools there
is J. A. Cederstrom. Mr. Cederstrom has proved by a very practical
demonstration that he is "the one."

When Mr. Cederstrom took charge of the Sleepy Eye schools he found an
excellent school plant, an intelligent community and a school system
that was like the school system of every other up-to-date
two-thousand-inhabitant town in the Middle West. Before Mr. Cederstrom
there lay a choice. He could continue the work exactly as it had always
been carried on, improve the school machinery, and make a creditable
showing at examination time. That path looked like the path of least
resistance. Mr. Cederstrom did not take it, however. Instead he made up
his mind that after measuring the community and the children he would,
to use his own words, "fit the work to their respective needs."

"The work offered has been somewhat varied," Mr. Cederstrom explains. "I
have not attempted to follow any set course or outline of work made out
by some one else who is not familiar with our conditions and needs."

Where does there exist a more admirable statement of the principle
underlying the new education? This man, when given charge of a school
plant, deliberately chose to make the school fit the needs of the
community upon which the school was dependent for support. Oblivious of
tradition he set about remodeling the school in the interest of its
constituency.

Sleepy Eye is located in a farming district. Many of the boys who come
to the Sleepy Eye School will manage farms when they are grown men, and
many of the Sleepy Eye girls will marry farmers and manage them. Here
were farmer men and farmer women in the making. What more natural than
to organize a Department of Agriculture?

A Department of Agriculture in a school? Yes, truly; and a short winter
course for farm boys and girls who could not come the year round, and a
school experiment station with school farms for the children, and a live
farmers' institute that met in the school and was fed and cared for by
the Department of Domestic Science, and all sorts of courses built up
around the needs of the children and of the community.

II Getting the Janitor in Line

As a result of this method of course-making the school janitor found
himself on the instruction staff of the school. One day a couple of the
short course boys were in the engine-room while the janitor was
repairing a defective pipe in the heating plant. The boys lent a hand in
the work; and one of them, having a practical turn of mind, suggested
that he would like to learn more about pipe-fitting in order to install
a water system on the farm at home. The janitor repeated the remark to
Mr. Cederstrom, who called the boys out and had a talk with them
regarding the possibilities of the plan.

The outlook for the course was not bright. Every instructor in the
mechanical department was working on full time. Only one way out
remained and that way led to the janitor.

The janitor was a busy man during the day, but his evenings were
comparatively free. After some parleying he agreed to give a course in
elementary plumbing and steam-fitting on Tuesday and Thursday evenings
at seven-thirty. So the boys came to school in the evening, and under
the direction of the school janitor learned how to install a water
system in their homes. Their work for the year consisted in making a
model water system for a house, a barn and the other farm buildings. The
materials for this course were picked up from the school's scrap-heap.

Perhaps some people will not understand the spirit of it--getting the
janitor in line to give a course in steam-fitting from the odds and ends
that are found on the scrap-heap. Such a proceeding is unconventional in
the extreme. But, on the other hand, here were boys who wished to know
how they might go back and improve their homes. Who shall say that the
imparting of such knowledge is not the business of a real school?

III The Department of Agriculture

Let us go back for a moment to the organization of the Department of
Agriculture. The school at Sleepy Eye have available what every other
school should have--five acres of tillable ground. This tract at Sleepy
Eye is devoted to tests and experimental work, to flower gardens and to
individual school gardens--one for each child who applies.

The experimental work and tests are carried on exactly as they would be
at a state experiment station. In the section of Minnesota surrounding
Sleepy Eye, corn is the great staple crop. Therefore on the
demonstration grounds of the Department of Agriculture, Independent
School District No. 24, Sleepy Eye, Minnesota, they are growing a number
of plots of corn, each plot variously planted, fertilized, cultivated,
and cared for, so that the children may learn at first-hand scientific
methods of discovering the best kinds of crop, and the best ways of
handling a crop in their own locality.

The allotment of the school gardens carried with it instruction in
engineering and in civics at the same time that the bonds between home
and school were cemented. The part of the school land that was to be
devoted to school gardens was turned over to the older boys, who
surveyed it in exactly the same way that the United States government
surveyed the homestead tracts. The plot was laid out in towns and
ranges. The sections were staked and numbered. Then the children who
wished to take up plots went into the newly surveyed territory, picked
their plots, and filed an application with the land commissioner for a
plot, stating the section, town and range. After that a line formed and
the plots (20×20 feet) were allotted. No child was permitted to take up
an allotment unless he had the endorsement of a parent or guardian. The
form on which this endorsement was secured was as follows:

Name____________________ Grade______________
_______ Sec____ Town__________ Range________

APPLICATION FOR LAND IN PUBLIC SCHOOL GARDEN, DEPT. OF AGR.,
SLEEPY EYE HIGH SCHOOL

"It is assumed that the parent or guardian who endorses this
application will co-operate with the school authorities and have
the applicant care for and weed said land during the growing
season, and devote at least two and a half hours each week this
summer to the agricultural work as may be directed or required
by the Director of the Department of Agriculture, Mr. Haw.

"I hereby apply for...... Sec...... Town....... Range...... in
the Public School Garden of Sleepy Eye High School, and will
cultivate and care for same as may be directed by the proper
authorities, and will keep a careful record of the returns
therefrom and report same on or before Oct. 20, 1911. I will do
the additional agricultural work that may be directed as
indicated above.

................................. Applicant.

Endorsed by ........................ Parent or Guardian."

The form carried on its opposite side statements showing the character
of crop and its value, the amount paid for seeds and an itemized
statement of the returns. The school gardens proved an admirable
success. The children had learned the details of a great historical
event in their own state--the giving out of free land; the boys had
conducted a miniature survey; rivalry had been developed in the
competition over plots; the gardens, laid out side by side, served as a
splendid object lesson in quality of work; no boy or girl could allege a
teacher's unfairness from an untilled, weedy plot; the parents were made
to feel that the school was doing something practical for their
children; the children were taught a simple form of accounting and
cost-keeping; and, best of all, they were made to feel their citizenship
in the school.

The Department of Agriculture has, in addition to its experimental farm,
a well-equipped laboratory, in which tests and experiments are carried
on. Sleepy Eye is located in a dairy section; therefore one of the chief
functions of this laboratory has been the testing of milk. Any farmer
may bring milk samples and have the Babcock test applied to determine
the percentage of butter fat which an individual cow is yielding.

IV A Short Course for Busy People

In the neighborhood of Sleepy Eye, as in many other places, there are
many boys and girls who cannot attend school throughout the year, but
who would welcome a chance to go to school in the winter months.
Agricultural colleges have recognized this need by the organization of
"short courses" during the winter months. Only a few children can go to
college, however. Lack of preparation and lack of funds compel them to
remain at home. It was for them that the school at Sleepy Eye organized
a short course like that given in the agricultural colleges, extending
from the end of November to the middle of March. Of the pupils attending
this course, some of the boys are as old as thirty-seven, and some of
the girls as young as fifteen; yet all come, eager to find out some of
the things which the school has to teach them.

The agricultural work of the short course centered around the
agricultural problems of the Brown County Farm. Planting, milk and cream
testing, work in seed testing and germination, and treatment of seeds
for fungus growths, corn judging, and similar topics covered the work
of the term. The short course boys had already learned many lessons in
the practical school of farm work. The school at Sleepy Eye offered them
in addition the knowledge which science has recently accumulated
regarding the work of the farm.

As the successful farmer must be a trained mechanic, the short course
laid great stress on manual training. The boys were taught how to handle
and care for tools, how to frame a building, how to make eveners,
hayracks, watering troughs, wagon boxes, and similar useful farm
articles. In the blacksmith shop the simpler problems in forging were
covered, including the making of hooks, clevises, cold chisels and other
small tools.

While the boys were engaged in agricultural and mechanical work the
girls took domestic science. In addition to the elementary work in
cooking and sewing there were advanced courses in dress designing, so
planned as to prepare a girl to work out her own patterns and make up
her own materials.

Let no one suppose that the short course neglected academic work.
Indeed, it was originally intended to enable boys and girls who felt too
big for the local school, or who had no time to take the entire term
there, to review common school subjects. The courses in industrial work,
in agriculture and in domestic science were offered in addition to these
regular school studies.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating. The boys and girls who take
the short course for the first year come back in considerable numbers to
take a second and a third year of work during the winter months. The
short course is a success, because it gives the boys and girls who take
it training and knowledge which they would not otherwise acquire.

V Letting the Boys Do It

The school at Sleepy Eye needed a farm building on the school farm. The
short course boys and some of the older boys in the school were anxious
to learn. What more natural procedure than for the school to buy the
lumber and have the boys do the work? Exactly this proceeding was
followed, and the pupils erected the building which they needed to carry
on the applied work of the school.

The mechanical work of the school is splendidly organized. First of all,
the pupils built a large part of the equipment themselves. Five simple
forges, made by the students of pineboards and concrete, form an
excellent shop equipment, besides giving the boys who did the work an
inkling of the ease with which a forge can be erected in connection with
the tool-house on the farm. The boys built a turning lathe, on which the
wood turning of the school is done. Besides the shop-work there is a
well-organized course in mechanical drawing. The whole department is
prepared to teach boys, particularly farm boys, some of the things which
they will most need in the mechanical work on the farms.

The mechanical courses are open to the boys in the grades, as well as to
the high school and the short course pupils. The work is graded, and may
be followed through the high school course.

VI A Look at the Domestic Science

While the boys are in the shops the girls are occupied with domestic
science. A well-equipped laboratory and sewing-room furnish the basis
for some thorough work. The Domestic Science Department is one to which
Mr. Cederstrom points with justifiable pride. "Of all my constructive
work since coming here," he says, "I probably take my greatest pride in
our Domestic Science Department, where elementary and advanced work is
offered in cooking and in household economy."

Because the space in the school was small, and the demand for
instruction large, Mr. Cederstrom planned the domestic science tables
himself, and superintended their building. Again the effectiveness of
the school's work is shown by its results. With the modest equipment
which the funds and space available provided, the girls in the Domestic
Science Department each year serve a dinner to the farmers and farmers'
wives attending the annual farmers' institute held in the school in
February. On one occasion the department baked almost half a cord of
bread, roasted one hundred and forty pounds of beef, and fed five
hundred and seventeen persons at one dinner.

The sewing work includes a complete course in dressmaking. Students are
required to make patterns from pictures selected in fashion magazines.
These patterns are then used in cutting out the garments, which the
girls themselves make up.

Each girl in the High School is required to take at least one year each
of cooking and of sewing. These courses occupy five periods a week. An
additional year in each course is optional. Most of the girls eagerly
elect it. Mr. Cederstrom takes a very practical view of such educational
matters. "Our girls like the domestic science work," he says. "They take
as much pride in bringing to my office a good loaf of bread, or a
well-prepared dish of vegetables or meat as they do in being able to
give a perfect demonstration of a theorem in geometry, or a perfect
conjugation or declension of a Latin word. Possibly ten years from now
they may have more demand upon their ability to prepare a square meal
for a hungry life companion, or to cut out a dress or apron for a
younger member of the family than they will have need of doing some of
the other things which I have just mentioned."

They do not teach domestic science for its own sake out in Sleepy Eye;
they see farther ahead than that. Mr. Cederstrom is making his work
practical, because, as he says, "We are anxious to do what little we can
toward making our girls more efficient and capable as housekeepers,
wives, and possibly as mothers."

VII How It Works Out

There are two questions that naturally arise: First, what is the effect
of this work on the children? Second, what is its effect on the farmers?
Both questions must be answered briefly, though the answers to both
might be followed out through pages of illustrative detail.

The children like the school at Sleepy Eye. The boys and girls come
early and stay late. The school doors open at eight o'clock and are not
closed until dark. There are always pupils there from the beginning to
the end of that period. The children are not interested in the applied
work alone. Their interest in that has led them very often to an
interest in some of the academic studies toward which they had no
particular inclination.

The homes in Sleepy Eye are also interested in the school. As one woman
remarked: "My girls like to do work about the house now; they never did
before." School work which gives girls a new desire and a new viewpoint
on the work in the home is a step, and a long one, toward building
sounder homes and stronger family ties. There are some Sleepy Eye homes
in which the interest of the boys in the school shops has led their
parents to buy benches and tools which the children may use at home.

The school at Sleepy Eye has interested the farmers. It has persuaded
them that high grade seed is better than mongrel seed. Consequently the
farmers are shelling more bushels of corn to the acre planted. The
school has persuaded the farmers that well-bred cattle are more
profitable than mongrel cattle. Consequently the farmers are raising the
standard of their herds. When the farmers come into Sleepy Eye they go
to the school. Perhaps they have milk to be tested; perhaps they are
looking for suggestions regarding soil or blight; perhaps they want to
know the latest facts about the scale or rust; perhaps they want some
advice about farm implements. In any case they go to the school.

The farmers have been led to the school through the children. The boys
have gone home to their fathers with suggestions and improvements of
inestimable value in the management of the farm. The girls have gone
home to their mothers with practical ideas on the running of the
household. These demonstrations of school efficiency have done more than
argument or persuasion ever could hope to do in convincing the fathers
and mothers of the usefulness of the school.

VIII Theoretical and Practical

The work in mechanics seems to interfere in no essential particular with
the regular academic work of the school. The boys and girls are
interested and enthusiastic. That counts for a great deal. Then, too,
boys and girls come to school for the mechanical work who would not come
at all if the mechanical work were not there. The academic work which
such boys take is clear gain. Through the mechanical work many pupils
become interested in the school, and the school means, for all pupils,
academic as well as applied work.

"We do not discount those parts of an education that were once the sum
total of the work in every high school," Mr. Cederstrom says. "They are
all offered and taken by the students. We are trying to give in addition
to these academic branches the kind of education which will appeal to
the children as being of a common-sense order." There is in the high
school a Latin Course, a Scientific Course, beside the Agricultural
Course and the Industrial Course. All of the students are required to
take this academic work. Many, in addition, take the industrial and
agricultural work, even when they do not receive credit in their
academic course. Each high school student is allowed two periods a day
in laboratory work, shop-work, or some other form of applied education.
In addition to those periods, the students may work in the shops or
laboratory after school, if they please. Many of them get their applied
education in that way.

How great is the fire that a little spark kindles! It was more than a
thousand miles away that I first heard of the school at Sleepy Eye. It
happened in this way. The clock had scarcely announced that it was high
noon when a group of men drew their chairs up to a dinner table
generously loaded with country hotel fare. There were two school
directors in this happen-so party, a carter, a salesman, a lawyer, a
farmer and two teachers, who talked with a professional twang. The
salesman listened impatiently to the educational clap-trap, watching for
an opening between phrases. When at last the loophole appeared:

"Gentlemen," said he, "you're interested in schools? Then you ought to
see some real schools. Did you ever go to a school to listen to a
phonograph?" Then, turning to the farmers: "Did you ever go to school to
get your horses shod? You go to school for both in Sleepy Eye,
Minnesota. They're the greatest schools I have ever seen. They run from
seven in the morning till eight at night, and accommodate every kid that
wants an education. Gentlemen, if you want to see real schools go to
Sleepy Eye."

CHAPTER XII

THE SOUTH FOR THE NEW EDUCATION

I A Dream of Empire

A keen Atlanta business man leaned forward on his chair and spoke
eagerly. "Yes, sir," he exclaimed, "the world is ours. We have the
biggest, finest batch of undeveloped resources in the country--perhaps
on the planet. Iron, coal, stone, timber, power--our hills are full of
them, so full that we have never even inventoried our treasure-house.
Our possibilities are beyond the power of words, and we've got to live
up to them."

This man knew Georgia and the South. He had helped, and still is helping
to convert the iron, coal, timber, and water-power into Southern
prosperity. He was still unsatisfied.

"The trouble with us is, we can't go fast enough," he admitted. "Do you
know why? Do you know the biggest burden we have to carry--the most
determined enemy we have to fight? Well, sir, it's ignorance--the
ignorance of the common man about his farm or his trade; the ignorance
of the business man about outside things; the ignorance of the teachers
who are supposed to enlighten us." He leaned forward again. "That sounds
strong, doesn't it? But it's gospel."

I reminded him of the rapidity with which the South was forging ahead in
its educational activities. He threw his head back proudly. "Of course,"
he cried, "the experiment stations, the colleges, the high schools, the
club movement, and all that--of course we're going ahead. I'm not
speaking of that. My point is that we must wake up to two things. First
of all, we must never make the mistakes that you did in the North when
you built up your educational system. That means no pedantry, or
classical snobbery. We mustn't go that way. Our way is plain though. I
see it more clearly every time I think the matter over--we must train
the intelligence of the Southern people."

He continued, in his enthusiastic mood. "Yes, there is a great future
for the South. Its resources make a future possible; but unless those
resources are intelligently used, our prosperity will not go very deep,
or reach very far. We must take the people with us."

This man's view typifies the educational vision that is sweeping over
the South. "We must take the people with us," he said. There is nothing
novel in the idea; but coming as it did from a representative business
man, it carried weight and conviction.

Another thing he said in the same connection enforced his argument.
"They talk about the race problem in the South," he said. "That is, the
old generation does. We younger men are not so much concerned about the
race problem as we are concerned about efficiency in industry and in
agriculture. The races are here to stay; we cannot change that if we
would. Meanwhile, all of us, whites as well as blacks, are slovenly in
our farming, indifferent in our business transactions, and hopelessly
behind in our methods of conducting affairs. From top to bottom we need
trained intelligence. That, more than anything else, will solve the
South's problems."

II Finding the Way

The step is a short one from a vision of trained intelligence to a
demand for effective education. Throughout the South, the will to
progress is everywhere in evidence, and with unerring accuracy, one
community after another is turning to this as the way.

There is no Southern city in which the agitation for increased
educational activity is not being pushed with vigor and intensity. On
all hands there appears the result of a conviction that the only means
by which the effectiveness of the South can be maintained and increased,
lie along the path of increased educational opportunities. The South, if
it is to fulfill the greatness of its promise, must remodel its
educational system in the interests of a larger South, as the West has
remodeled its educational system in the interest of a larger West. The
notable State universities of the Middle and Far West, the Normal
Schools, the prevalent system of education, have been felt, and are now
being felt, in the progressive, efficient, Western population. Nothing
less than a generally educated public could have made the West in the
brief years that have elapsed since it was a wilderness. Nothing save
general education can make the resources of the South yield up their
greatest advantage to the Southern people.

The time for traditional formalism has passed in the South, as it has
passed in every other progressive community. Whatever the needs of the
community may be, those needs must be met through some form of public
education. In the South the most pressing need appears in the demand for
intelligent farming. For decades the tenant farmers, largely negroes,
cultivated their farms as their fathers had cultivated. They raised
cotton because the raising of cotton offered the path of least
resistance. Farm animals were scarce, because the farm animals only came
with surplus cash, and surplus cash was scarce indeed in districts where
the tenant farmers lived through the year on the credit obtained from
the prospective cotton crops. There was little corn raised, because the
people did not understand the need for raising corn, nor did they
realize the financial possibilities of the Southern corn crop. In a
word, the agricultural South lacked the knowledge which modern
scientific agriculture has brought.

The past generation has seen a revolution in Southern agriculture,
because of the revolution which has occurred in Southern agricultural
education. Led by the experiment stations and universities, the South
has undertaken to reorganize its system of living from the land.

The Atlanta banker fully realized the need for culture. He was himself a
cultured gentleman; but he also saw that before the people of the South
could have culture, they must have an economic system directed with
sufficient intelligence to supply the necessaries of life, which must
always be taken for granted before the possibilities of culture are
realized. Cultural education comes after, and not before, education for
intelligent and direct vocational activity.

During the educational revolution of the past twenty-five years, no
section of the country has thrown itself into the foreground of
educational progress with more vigor and with greater earnestness and
zeal than that displayed in the South. In certain directions the South
has proved a leader in the inauguration and administration of new
activities. In other directions the Southern States have followed
actively and energetically.

A traveler through the New South stumbles unavoidably upon countless
illustrations of the part which modern education is playing in Southern
life. Individuals, families, communities, are being re-made by the new
education.

III Jem's Father

Jem wasn't a good boy, but he was interested in his school. He was one
of those fortunate boys who lived in a county that had been possessed by
the corn club idea, and the corn club was the thing which had given Jem
his school interest.

Jem never took to studies. Each year he had told his mother that "there
weren't no use in goin' back to that there school again." Persistently
she had sent him back, until one year when Jem found a reason for going.

A new teacher came to Jem's school--a young man fresh from normal
school, full of enthusiasm, energy, and new ideas. The boys felt from
the start that he was their friend, and before many weeks had elapsed,
the community began to feel his presence. This new teacher was
particularly enthusiastic over the "club idea." "We must get the boys
and girls doing something together" he kept saying to his classes.

The year wore on, but interest in the school did not flag, because all
through the winter months there were entertainments, parents' meetings,
literary meetings, spelling bees, reading hours, and other evening
activities. In fact, the time came when there was a light in the
school-house three or four nights in each week.

Toward spring the new teacher began to push the "club idea." He started
with the boys, and, as luck would have it, picked out Jem. "Jem," he
said one day, "I want you to stay after school, I want to speak to you a
minute." Jem stayed, not knowing exactly what was coming. When the rest
of the pupils had tumbled out of the school door, and disappeared along
the muddy road, the teacher and Jem sat down together.

"Jem," said the teacher, "we ought to have a corn club in this school."

Jem looked up doggedly, but gave no sign of interest or enthusiasm.

"You see," the teacher said, "it's this way. Farming isn't all that it
might be around here. People raise things the way they have always been
raised. Our county superintendent has an idea. He proposes to teach the
farmers in this county how to raise corn."

Jem looked skeptical. "Are you to do the teaching?" he asked.

"No," was the answer, "you are."

"I?" said Jem.

"Yes," said the teacher, "you and the other boys in the school."

Jem scratched his head. "I ain't never taught no one nothing in my
life," he commented.

"It's this way," the teacher went on. "Up at Washington and out at the
State College they have been doing a lot of thinking and working with
corn. They found, for instance, that if you pick seed corn carefully,
you get a better crop than if you are careless in seed selection. They
have also found that if you follow certain rules about planting and
cultivation you get a better crop. For years the men at the Experiment
Station and at Washington talked about these things in Farmers'
Bulletins. They established experiment farms, and demonstration farms,
too. Lately they have been doing something more, and something which I
think is better than anything so far--they have decided to have the boys
teach their fathers how to raise corn."

"Do you mean to say," asked Jem, "that I could teach Dad anything about
corn-raisin'?"

"Yes," said the teacher, "you can, and, what is more, you will, won't
you?"

"Well," said Jem, "I dunno."

"Here is what we have to do," said the teacher. "This year the county
superintendent is going to offer prizes for the boy with the best acre
of corn. He sends out rules. You have to plough a certain way, plant a
certain way, and cultivate a certain way. If you do not follow the rules
you are not allowed to stay in the contest. Now I'll tell you what I
want to do. The boys in this school are as smart, if not smarter, than
the boys in any other school in the country; so I guess it is up to us
to get some of those prizes right here at home."

Jem was visibly interested. "Money prizes?" he asked.

"Yes, money prizes," said the teacher. "The first prize will be fifty
dollars."

Jem's eyes opened wide. "I'm in for that," he said with conviction.

That night, when Jem sat down to supper, he broached the corn
proposition to his father.

"Shucks," his father exclaimed. "You raise an acre of corn? Why you
wouldn't get twenty-five bushels!"

"Twenty-five," said Jem, contemptuously. "I'd get a hundred."

"A hundred," said his father. "Here, look here, boy, I have been
farming this land for thirty odd years, and the best I ever done on an
acre of corn was seventy bushels. I'll tell you what, though," he added
conclusively, "this here talk about corn clubs makes me tired. You and
your hundred bushels! I was looking over the paper when it came in this
noon, and I saw a piece about a chap over by Southport with over a
hundred bushels to the acre. Do you know what I'm goin' to do tonight?
I'm goin' to write that editor a letter, and tell him that any paper
that publishes lies like that ain't fit for my family to see. This
year's subscription ain't run out, but they don't need to send me the
rest. I'll get a paper somewhere else."

Despite home opposition, Jem persisted and prevailed. His father gave
him an acre grudgingly, but it was a good acre. And when, following the
rules which he and the other boys who had agreed to enter the contest
read over with the teacher, he disked his land and ploughed his narrow,
deep furrows, he listened, not without misgivings, to the remarks which
his elder brother passed at his expense.

"Say, Jem," this brother remarked, "you have spent three times as much
time on that acre as any acre of corn raised in this county was ever
worth. Are you diggin' graves for 'possums?"

When, later in the season, Jem cultivated with persistent regularity, he
was forced to listen to similar comments. Jem wasn't good at repartee;
so he said nothing; but, sustained by the encouragement of the new
teacher, who came to see his acre every week, Jem followed the rules to
the letter.

He had his reward at harvest time. When the ears first set it became
apparent that Jem had a good crop. As they developed, the goodness of
the crop became more manifest; but when the acre had been harvested,
put through the sheller and bagged, and Jem had stowed in his pocket a
certificate of "ninety-six bushels on one acre," it was time for some
explanations.

"Jem," said his father at the supper table on the evening of that
memorable day when Jem's corn went through the sheller, and his
certificate showed ninety-six bushels, "I wrote a letter to that editor,
and sent him next year's subscription in advance."

IV Club Life Militant

The experience of Jem's father has been duplicated many times by parents
and communities during the past ten years of club growth in the South.
The school, working through the children, has educated fathers, mothers,
villages, and whole counties.

All of the agencies of government,--local, State, and national,--have
cooperated to make the children's clubs one of the leading agencies in
developing that trained intelligence which is so great an asset in the
prosperity of any community. Thanks to the tireless efforts of men like
William H. Smith, the children's clubs have become one of the most
aggressive factors in educating rural communities to higher standards of
efficiency. There are many kinds of clubs--corn clubs, potato clubs,
tomato clubs, pig clubs. Anything which the children can raise is a
legitimate object of club activity. The work in the South started with
corn clubs.

The corn-club idea in Mississippi grew out of an educational experience
of Professor William H. Smith.[24] For years Professor Smith had taught,
in a mildly progressive way, the time-honored subjects which were
included in the study-course of the rural school. Two of Professor
Smith's students, a boy of twenty and a girl of seventeen, left school;
and they left, as the boy told Professor Smith very frankly, because the
school taught them very little that would be of use later on in the work
which they would be called upon to do. This boy expected to grow cotton;
the girl expected to marry the boy, manage his domestic affairs and
attend to the many duties which fall to the lot of women on a farm.

When he left school, the boy put it to Professor Smith in this way: "I
am goin' to be a farmer. I ain't fitted to be nothing else, and book
learnin' ain't helpin' me none. It's just a waste of time. I've got to
clear land and work it into a farm. If I was goin' to be a bookkeeper or
an engineer, or somethin', what you are teachin' me here might help; but
I can't remember that I have ever learned a thing since I got the hang
how to figure the interest on a mortgage, that will be of any account to
me on a farm. Almost all the boys has got to be a farmer like me. You
know, professor, it appears to me like these schools for the people
ought to be teachin' the children of the people how to make a livin' on
the farm--how to make life better and easier, instead of just makin' us
plum disgusted with ourselves."

This experience, standing out among a multitude of similar experiences,
led Professor Smith to an interest in some form of educational work that
would help boys and girls in their lives on the farm. The outcome of his
thinking and experimenting, combined with the thinking and experimenting
of many another capable educational leader, is the club idea for boys
and girls alike.

There was a real need for the corn club. For the year 1899 the total
corn area in Alabama was 2,743,060 acres. On these acres the farmers
secured an average of 12.7 bushels per acre. Ten years later, in 1909,
the total acreage had decreased to 2,572,092, and the per acre yield had
decreased to 11.9 bushels per acre. Here was a decrease of 170,968 acres
in corn; of 4,367,310 bushels in the corn crop; and of .8 of a bushel in
the average yield per acre. The boys' corn club movement was started in
Alabama in 1909. That year two hundred and sixty-five boys were
enrolled. The average per acre yield of corn in the State was 11.9
bushels. The next year the enrollment of boys reached twenty-one
hundred; the total yield increased more than sixty per cent.; and the
average number of bushels per acre rose to eighteen. The figures for
1911 and 1912 show an increase, though less extensive, in the total
acreage and the total yield of corn for each year.

Southern land will grow corn. Properly treated, it will better a yield
of twelve bushels per acre, five, ten, and even fifteen-fold. The
leaders of Southern agricultural education knew this. They knew,
furthermore, that the betterment could never be brought about until the
farmers were convinced that it was possible. How could they be shown?
The Farmers' Bulletin had a place; the experiment farm had a place; but
if it were only possible to make every farm an experiment farm!

The way lay through the boys. They could be induced to organize
miniature experiments in scores of farms in every county, and then the
farmers would see!

Backed by a carefully worked out organization, the authorities set out
with the deliberate purpose of educating the farmer through his son. If
his corn yield was low, he would learn how to get a larger yield. If he
raised no corn, he would learn of the spot-cash value of corn. Boys
were organized into clubs; directions were given; prizes were offered,
and the boys went to work with a will. For the most part they took one
acre.

When compared to the yield on surrounding acres, the corn crops secured
by the boys are little short of phenomenal. In Pike County, Alabama,
where the number of boys engaging in corn club contests increased from
one in 1910 to two hundred and seventy in 1912, the average number of
bushels per acre grown by the boys rose from 50.5 to 85.3. In the entire
State there were one hundred and thirty-seven boys who made over a
hundred bushels per acre each in 1911. The average per acre for each of
these boys was one hundred and twenty-seven bushels, and the total
profit on their corn crop was $12,500.

Records made by individual boys through the Southern States run very
high. Claude McDonald, of Hamer, S. C., raised 210-4/7 bushels at a cost
of 33.3¢ a bushel. Junius Hill, of Attalla, Ala., raised 212-1/2
bushels. Ben Leath, of Kensington, Ga., raised 214-5/7 bushels. John
Bowen, of Grenada, Miss., raised 221-1/5 bushels. Eber A. Kimbrough,
Alexander City, Ala., raised 224-3/4 bushels; and Bebbie Beeson,
Monticello, Miss., raised 227-1/16 bushels.[25] These boys were all
State prize winners.

There are several things worthy of note about these record yields.
Practically all of the high yields were made on deeply ploughed, widely
separated rows. The record made by Bennie Beeson (227-1/16 bushels, at a
cost of fourteen cents per bushel) was secured on dark, upland soil,
with a clay sub-soil, ploughing to a depth of ten inches, rows three
feet apart, hills six inches apart, with ten cultivations. Beeson used
5-1/2 tons of manure and eight dollars' worth of other fertilizer on his
acre. The seed corn was New Era. Barnie Thomas, who grew 225 bushels on
rich, sandy loam, ploughed nine inches, planted his rows three and
one-half feet apart, and kept the hills ten inches apart. He cultivated
six times, and selected his own seed from the field. Many of the boys
making the fine records developed and selected their own seed. One boy,
with an acre yield of 124.9 bushels, cleared six hundred and ninety-five
dollars, counting prizes. Another boy, with a yield of 97-4/5 bushels,
reports that his father's yield was thirty bushels. John Bowen, with a
yield of 221-1/5 bushels, reports the yield on nearby acres as forty
bushels. Arthur Hill, with 180-3/5 bushels, reports the nearby yields as
twenty bushels.

Such figures, uncertified, would challenge the credulity of the
uninitiated. The land on which these record yields were secured had been
raising twenty, forty, and fifty bushels of corn to the acre. Over great
sections, the per acre average was well under twenty. Into this
desolation of agricultural inefficiency, a few thousand school boys
entered. Under careful supervision and proper guidance, with little
additional expenditure of money or of time, they produced results wholly
unbelievable to the old-time farmer. Yet he saw the crop, husked, and
watched it through the sheller. There was no magic and no chicanery. He
had learned a lesson.

The records cited above are exceptionally high. There were hundreds of
others almost equally good. "Twenty-one Georgia club members from the
seventh congressional district alone grew 2,641 bushels at an average
cost of 23 cents per bushel; 19 boys in Gordon County, Georgia, average
90 bushels, 10 of them making 1,058 bushels. The 10 boys who stood
highest in Georgia averaged 169.9 bushels and made a net profit of more
than $100 each, besides prizes won. In Alabama 100 boys average 97
bushels at an average cost of 27 cents. In Monroe County, Alabama, 25
boys averaged 78 bushels. In Yazoo County, Mississippi, 21 boys averaged
111.6 bushels at an average cost of 19.7 cents. In Lee County,
Mississippi, 17 boys averaged 82 bushels at an average cost of 21 cents.
Sixty-five boys in Mississippi averaged 109.9 bushels at an average cost
of 25 cents. Twenty Mississippi boys averaged 140.6 bushels at an
average cost of 23 cents. Ninety-two boys in Louisiana grew 5,791
bushels on 92 acres; 10 of these boys had above 100 bushels each,
although the weather conditions were very unfavorable in that State. In
North Carolina 100 boys averaged 99 bushels. In the same State 432 boys
averaged 63 bushels. In Buncombe County, North Carolina, 10 boys
averaged 88 bushels. In Sussex County, Virginia, 16 boys averaged 82
bushels. Fifteen boys in the vicinity of Memphis, Tenn., where the
business men contributed about $3,000 to aid the work, averaged 127.4
bushels at an average cost of 28 cents per bushel. Many other records in
other States were equally good in view of the fact that a drought
prevailed very generally throughout the South in 1911.["][26]

Such returns challenge the attention of the most hidebound. These boys
got results that exceeded anything that had ever been heard of in their
communities. The old folks who had scoffed; the wise-acres whose advice
was not taken; and the "I told you so" farmers who had uttered their
predictions, all stood aside, while the boys, pointer in hand, taught
their respective communities one of the best lessons they had ever
learned.

V Canning Clubs

Parallel with the boys' corn clubs are the girls' canning clubs. If the
boys could grow corn (in a number of cases the corn contests were won by
girls), why might it not be possible to have the girls do something
along parallel lines? The idea found expression in the girls' tomato
clubs and similar organizations. During 1910, three hundred and
twenty-five girls were enrolled in such clubs in Virginia and South
Carolina. Dr. Knapp and his fellow workers decided that one-tenth of an
acre would be enough for a good garden. Each girl was urged to plant
some other kind of vegetable in addition to her tomatoes, and to can
surplus fruit. In 1911, more than three thousand girls, in eight
different States, had joined clubs and planted their gardens. By 1912
the number had grown to twenty-three thousand girls in twelve States.
Many of the girls put up more than five hundred quart cans of tomatoes
from their plots, besides ketchup, pickles, chow-chow, preserves, and
other products. Quite a number of girls put up more than a thousand
quart cans, and one girl put up fifteen hundred quart cans. Some of the
girls, in addition to the prizes, had a net profit of as much as a
hundred dollars on their gardens.

The United States Bureau of Plant Industry sets forth the object of the
girls' demonstration work as follows:

"(1) To encourage rural families to provide purer and better
food at a lower cost, and utilize the surplus and otherwise
waste products of the orchard and garden, and make the poultry
yard an effective part of the farm economy.

(2) To stimulate interest and wholesome cooperation among
members of the family in the home.

(3) To provide some means by which girls may earn money at home,
and, at the same time, get the education and viewpoint necessary
for the ideal farm life.

(4) To open the way for practical demonstrations in home
economics.

(5) To furnish earnest teachers a plan for aiding their pupils
and helping their communities."[27]

VI Recognition Day for Boys and Girls

The most astonishing thing about the club activity is the recognition
which it has won wherever it has been worked out on an extensive basis.
The reason for this general recognition is quite obvious, and its effect
is no less stimulating.

Public officials and business men have vied with one another in their
efforts to reward the winners of county and State club contests. The
same bulletin which records the astonishing figures on corn yields,
tells about the things that were done for the 56,840 boys who were
members of corn clubs. Fifty-two Georgia boys received diplomas signed
by the governor of the State and other officials, for producing more
than a hundred bushels per acre each, at an average cost of less than
thirty cents per bushel. Business men and citizens generally subscribed
liberally money, free railroad transportation, and trips to State
capitals. In 1911 the total value of the prizes offered in the South to
the boys' corn clubs approximated fifty thousand dollars. In Oklahoma,
one thousand dollars in gold was offered to the one hundred and twenty
boys making the best record in that State. The State prize winners were
sent to Washington for a week, where they were received at the White
House by the President, and at the Capitol by the Speaker of the House
of Representatives. They were presented with special cards of admission
to the Senate and House of Representatives, and, when visiting Congress,
they were presented to their Senators and Congressmen. By special
invitation these distinguished visitors appeared before the Committee on
Agriculture at the House of Representatives. They also visited the
office of the Secretary of Agriculture. They were photographed, and
large diplomas bearing the seal of the Department and the signature of
the Secretary were awarded to them.

One does not wonder at the widespread recognition accorded these boys,
in view of the fact that their efforts have been responsible for an
immense increase in the business prosperity of their respective States.
Once more have educators demonstrated the possibilities of teaching
parents through the education of children.

VII Teaching Grown-Ups to Read

The educational work which is being done in the uplands of the South has
already received widespread recognition. The slogan, "Down with the
moonshine still and up with the moonlight school," typifies the spirit
of the upland community.

One might journey far before discovering a more enthusiastic people than
the teachers and the scholars of the Southern uplands. The appalling
extent of illiteracy among the descendants of Marion's men finds a
parallel in their pathetic desire for some form of education.

The Southern hill whites love the old and fear the new. Traditionally,
they belong to a past generation; actually, they are reaching out for
the better things which the new generation can offer. The moonlight
schools are attended by old people and young alike. The struggling
colleges, the industrial and technical schools, with their record of
privation and hardship, bear eloquent testimony to the genuine efforts
which the upland population is making in these early years of its
educational awakening.

Every sincere effort among the hill whites meets with instant response.
For the most part, they deprive themselves of the necessaries of life in
order that they may send their children to school. Boys skimp and save;
girls walk for miles along mountain trails and paths; communities give
of the scanty means of their effort for the building and maintenance of
schools. Everywhere the spirit of the new education is permeating the
Southern upland communities.

VIII George Washington, Junior

One teacher, whose years of effort in the Piedmont have brought her the
confidence and co-operation of the community, tells of the success of
one of her earliest ventures with a boy of thirteen.

The boy's father was bad; his mother slovenly and indifferent. The boy
himself was bright and active.

When the time came for him to enter the cotton mill, the teacher
protested to his family, but without success. Still there was something
that she could do for him, still she saw an opportunity of serving him,
and she asked him to come to her home with a number of other boys, for a
couple of nights a week, when they sat together, reading, or playing
games.

The boy had appeared sullen at first, but toward the end of his school
term he showed an active interest. It became apparent that he was
particularly clever at languages. None of his lessons troubled him, and,
with the assistance of the teacher, he learned Italian readily, and
during the evenings, when the other boys played games or talked, he
worked over his Italian sentences with vital interest.

Just before Christmas, during the first year that this boy had spent in
the mill, a friend visited his teacher, became interested in her work,
and asked if there was any way in which she could help.

"You may," said the teacher. "You may buy Andy an outfit."

The friend went to the city with the order in her pocket,--a hat, a
suit, and a complete outfit, new, as a Christmas present for Andy.

On Christmas eve, Andy alone came to the teacher's house. She had not
asked the other boys,--partly because most of them preferred to stay at
home, partly because she had no such fine present for them as she had
for Andy.

"Never in my life," the teacher said, "had I seen Andy clean. I made up
my mind that for once he should have a clean body as well as clean
clothes."

When Andy came that Christmas eve, the teacher took him into a room
where there were towels, soap, a basin, and a new outfit of clothes.

"Andy," she said, "this is your Christmas present from my friend, and
now you are going to give me a Christmas present, too. You are going to
wash up and dress up."

Andy followed directions, and when he emerged from the room in his spick
and span outfit, his hat set side-wise on his wet, newly combed hair, he
stood up very straight, surveying himself as best he could from head to
foot, and exclaimed,--"Gee! I feel just like George Washington." The
bath and the new suit were a realization of his highest ideal.

"Andy and I were always friends after that," said the teacher, "and
since Andy was the moving spirit among the boys in the village, the boys
and I got along well together. It was my introduction to the heart of
the community, and it came with Andy's realization of an ideal which he
had long cherished."

IX A Step Toward Good Health

Having won Andy over, the teacher prepared to work her way past some of
the barriers of prejudice which the community had placed between itself
and civilization. The girls offered the readiest opening.

"The homes were wretched," the teacher said. "The people did not know
the simplest health rules. They were strangers to sanitation or
cleanliness. Their housekeeping was primitive and their cooking
miserable. I had won the boys by getting them together in something that
resembled a club. I decided that my best path to the girls, and from
them to the community, lay through housekeeping."

The hypothesis was, at least, worthy of a try-out. The teacher began by
keeping her own house in the most approved manner, and asking the girls
to come in and help her do it.

"You'll like to take supper with me this evening," she would say to a
group of girls at recess time. "Speak to your mothers when you go home,
and you, Sadie and Annie, will stay over night and sleep in the spare
bed."

They were slow to respond at first. Long habit made them suspicious, but
when the first few girls had spent their night with the teacher and had
come home with the tales of her wonderful household arrangements, the
others were looking eagerly for a chance to duplicate their experiences.

"Am I next?" a little girl asked anxiously one day, after the
invitations to a party had been given out. The assurance that she was,
made her face shine for the remainder of the afternoon.

"The school girls all came willingly," the teacher said. "It was after I
had them so interested that one of the factory hands came in. It was
Saturday night, and she rapped on the door before coming in with a
hesitating touch, as if she was afraid. She sat down across from me,
smoothing her dress and looking unhappy."

"You'll not understand," said the factory girl, apologetically. "But
Mame is in your school--she's my sister. You had her up last week to
spend the night. You'll remember?"

The teacher nodded.

"She came home, and ever since she's been telling us about the way you
did things. And I've been thinking,----"

She stopped and looked at the teacher, half suspiciously, half
appealingly.

"I've been thinking how nice it would be for me, if I could do them
things the same as you. You see," she spoke rapidly, "I'm gettin'
married soon now, and when Mame came a-telling that way, and our house
like it always is, and the baby crying, and nothing done exceptin' ma
a-scoldin', and I says to myself, I says, if I could do things like that
teacher can do 'em mebbe I wouldn't make mistakes like ma makes 'em."
She paused for breath, looking expectant.

"You would like to come here to see how I do things?" the teacher asked.

The girl nodded eagerly.

"Come Monday after hours, and spend the night with me."

"After that," the teacher said, "it was a great deal easier. The next
thing I wanted to do was to get the children examined for glasses and
throat trouble. There were two second-rate country doctors there who
knew little or nothing about modern medicine. The nearest man that I
could trust was forty miles away. He was a specialist, too, and high
priced. Still, I sat down and wrote him a letter, telling him how we
were fixed. He answered by return mail, making a special rate and
setting a day. I hoped to take twelve of the children, but I had car
fare for only seven. Then came our windfall. I told the railroad what I
was trying to do, and they made a special excursion rate and took the
children at less than half fare. We were all able to go, and the extra
money went for a treat to soda and the movies."

The children went back home, singing the praises of the trip, the
teacher, and the doctor. They went back, too, with expert advice and
assistance, and with the good news that others would soon have a turn.

Group by group, the needy children were brought down to the specialist
in the city. Some were even operated on, although at the outset the
parents would not hear of operations. In the end the children won,
however. Their enthusiasm for the teacher and their doctor carried the
day.

"It has been slow," the teacher said, "but at the end of it all, they
see better, hear better, eat more wholesome, nourishing food, live
better, and understand themselves better. On the whole it has paid."

X Theory and Practice[28]

The rural schools of the South have no monopoly on progressive
educational views. A number of Southern cities have taken up their
position in the vanguard of educational progress. Notable among these
cities is Columbus, Georgia,--a city of 20,554 people, in which
Superintendent Roland B. Daniel has undertaken a vigorous policy of
shaping the schools in the interests of the community. There were in
1913, 5,356 children of school age in Columbus. Of this number, 4,089
were in the schools. The school population is rather unevenly divided,
racially,--3,348 of the children of school age are white, and 1,198 are
colored. About one-quarter of the white population depends for its
livelihood upon the mills. Columbus is surrounded by an agricultural
district from which come many children in search of high school
training. The city of Columbus presents an industrial problem of an
unusually complex character, and the manner in which this problem has
been handled by the schools is worthy of the highest commendation.
Superintendent Daniel has laid down three definite planks in his
educational platform for the city of Columbus. In the first place, he
aims to provide school accommodations which are fitted to the peculiar
needs of each part of the community. In the second place, he aims to
shape the school system of Columbus in terms of the local environment of
the children. In the third place, he has inaugurated a high school
policy, which makes high school training practical as well as
theoretical.

Among the mill operatives of Columbus, Superintendent Daniel estimates
that there are approximately 800 children of school age. The situation
presented by these children was critical in the extreme. There was an
absence of compulsory education laws; few of the children attended any
school, and when they did enter a school they seldom remained long
enough to secure any marked educational advantage. Less than 5 per cent.
of the children continued in school after they were old enough to work
in the cotton mills.

Pursuant of his intention to make the schools supply the needs of all of
the children of Columbus, Superintendent Daniel organized the North
Highlands School in the factory district. Of this school he says: "It is
not made to conform, either in course of study or hours, to the other
schools of similar rank in the system, for the board desires to meet the
conditions and convenience of the people for whom the school was
established. Classroom work begins in the morning at 8 o'clock and
continues until 11 o'clock, with a recess of 10 minutes at 9:30. The
afternoon session begins at 1 o'clock, and the school closes for the day
at 3:30 o'clock."

The long intermission in the middle of the day is given in order to
allow the children to take hot lunches to parents, brothers, and sisters
who are working in the mill. Many of the mills are located at some
distance from the school. Some of the children are called upon to walk
as much as two miles during the noon hour, in order to carry the
lunches. These "dinner toters," when carrying lunch baskets for persons
outside of the family, receive 25 cents per week per basket. In case
several baskets are carried, the income thus earned is considerable.

The school thus organized on the basis of local needs is further
specialized in a way that will appeal to the needs of the mill operative
group. The academic courses are similar to the courses offered in the
other schools, except that more emphasis is laid upon the "three R's."
Superintendent Daniel says that the time is very limited in which these
children will attend school, and more attention is given as to what may
be regarded as fundamental. "While the prescribed course contemplates
seven years, few continue after the fifth or sixth year, so strong is
the call of the mills. Not more than 1 per cent finish this school and
pursue their studies further."

The three morning hours and the first hour in the afternoon are devoted
to academic studies, while the last hour and a half of the day is given
to practical work. The boys are required to take elementary courses in
woodwork and gardening, alternating these two branches on alternate
days. The girls are given work in basketry, sewing, cooking, poultry
raising, and gardening.

The results of the introduction of this applied work are summed up by
Superintendent Daniel in this way,--"In all of these lines of work it is
now the hope of the school only to better living conditions a little
among the people for whom it was especially organized. The
transformation is necessarily slow. In the beginning, no doubt, the
advocates of this type of school thought that many might be induced to
continue in school and do more advanced work, especially along
vocational lines. In this respect the school has been a disappointment
to some. We are seldom able to induce pupils to finish even the limited
course offered in this school."

The North Highland School, in addition to its work for the children, has
begun an organized effort to raise the standards of the local community.
Every day the principal and teachers of the school visit some of the
homes, giving helpful suggestions, caring for the sick, and in any other
possible way contributing to home life. Superintendent Daniel reports
the progress in this respect by saying,--"Confidence is now so strong
that one of the teachers every Saturday morning collects the physically
defective ones in the community and takes them to the free clinic for
operations or treatment. At first parents would see their children die
rather than permit them to be operated upon, but now they seldom decline
to permit them to be taken by a teacher to the free clinic, when in the
judgment of the teacher it is necessary."

The school has made an effort to organize the older people of the
community. There are entertainments and school gatherings in which
parents and children alike participate. As a further help to those
parents who are compelled to work in the mills, the school grounds,
which are amply provided with a full play equipment, are open to all of
the children at all hours of the day and all days of the week. "It is
not infrequent," says Superintendent Daniel, "that, when the mother goes
to work at 6 in the morning, she sends her children to the school to
enjoy the privileges of the grounds until the opening of the school at 8
o'clock."

The work of the negro schools is similarly fitted to the industrial
needs of the negro children. Boys and girls alike devote a considerable
portion of their time to industrial work. The main purpose of this work
for negroes is to prepare them for the line of industrial opportunity
open to them. The school reports that it has developed a number of good
blacksmiths, carpenters, cooks, seamstresses, and laundresses. Pupils
who remain in the schools long enough to complete the course are able to
earn, upon leaving school, about twice what they would be able to earn
had no such training been provided.

A vigorous attempt has been made to reorganize grade work in the
interests of clearness and effectiveness. As Superintendent Daniel puts
the matter,--"We undertook to place before the teachers a definite
problem, and to put suggestions into tangible form. We stated that all
subjects could be taught with the books merely as helps and means to an
end, and contend further for the doctrine that a working knowledge of
books and subjects is far more desirable than accomplishing the feat of
memorizing the printed page." Many teachers will be astonished by the
doctrine which Superintendent Daniel evolves from this statement of
educational theory. "The teachers were asked to conduct the work in such
a manner that it would not be necessary to recite or take written tests
with closed books, but that school books be used as tools with which to
work, and that the child should use text-books as adults do books of
reference, while the teacher guides and directs in the development of
thought.["]

This attempt of Superintendent Daniel to proceed with the grammar school
work in a more natural way, and to relate all of it more closely to
life, met with some interesting results, as may be gathered from the
following test questions which were worked out by teachers in pursuance
of the instructions to make text-books incidental and thought primary in
the school work.

ARITHMETIC, THIRD B

Roy shops for his mother at Kirven's. He buys 2 boxes of hair
pins at $.05 each, 6 towels at $.10 each, and 5 handkerchiefs
for $.25. What was his bill? If he hands the clerk $1.00, how
much change will he receive?

THIRD A

If Isabel's 2 pair of shoes cost $4, how much will shoes for all
the girls in the class cost?

GEOGRAPHY THIRD B

Turn to the map on page 65 and find and write the names of seven
different shore forms.

ARITHMETIC, FOURTH B

In our room are 46 pupils. The class receives 230 tablets and
138 pencils for the term. How many of each does each child
receive?

GEOGRAPHY, FOURTH B

What products may be sent to us from New England? If they were
shipped from Portsmouth, N. H., on what bodies of water would
they travel?

GEOGRAPHY, FOURTH A

Why does the United States carry on more trade with the British
Isles than with Germany? At what seaport would our vessels land
in the British Isles? What would they carry and what would they
bring back?

GEOGRAPHY, FIFTH A

What highways of trade will be used for shipping oranges from
San Francisco to Columbus, Ga., by way of the Panama Canal? How
many miles is this, approximately? (Use rule and map on page
65.)

GEOGRAPHY, FIFTH B

What is the chief industry of the people of Columbus, and why?
Describe the climate of our city, tell what fruits, vegetables
and farm products find a market here. What would a boat coming
up the river bring to Columbus? What would it carry back?

Superintendent Daniel's viewpoint is clear and sane. "It is not
sufficient," he says, "to maintain courses in domestic science and
manual training for the grades, and to teach other subjects as if they
belonged to another realm." Consequently he has made every endeavor to
bring together the forces of the community and of the school in a
sympathetic whole, around which the educational life of the town must
center.

The industrial high school is an integral and highly important part of
the work in the Columbus schools. Side by side with the academic high
school, it affords an opportunity for the children who do not intend to
continue their educational work beyond high school grade to get some
assistance in the direction of a training for life activity. It was
originally intended to duplicate, in a measure, the conditions and hours
maintained in the industrial plants of the city. Formerly the school was
open for eleven calendar months; at the present time a vacation of six
weeks is allowed. The school hours are from 8 o'clock in the morning
until 4 o'clock in the afternoon, for five days each week. Pupils who
have not maintained the required standard during the week are compelled
to attend school on Saturday.

All pupils of the Industrial High School are required to take academic
work of high school grade in mathematics, history, English, and
science.

The introduction of manual training and domestic science into the grades
of all Columbus schools has pointed many children in the direction of
the Industrial High School. While it is not the intention of the school
authorities to make the work of the Industrial High School final, it is
hoped that those children who are enabled to continue with educational
work are benefited markedly by this specialized course.

Throughout this deliberate attempt of the Columbus school administration
to make the schools fit the needs of the community there is evidence of
a scientific spirit which is in the last degree commendable. The
community need is first ascertained. The school work is then organized
in response to this community need. If, perchance, the first effort
meets with little success, additional effort is continued until some
measure of success is assured. The school authorities are not afraid to
change their opinions or their system. They are not even afraid to fail
on a given experiment. The one thing of which they are afraid is failure
to provide for the educational needs of the community.

XI A People Coming to Its Own

The first great battle in the educational awakening of the South has
been won. The people realize the necessity for an intelligently active
population.

The second battle is well under way. The people of the South are shaping
the schools to meet the peculiar educational needs which the economic
and social problems of the South present.

A rallying-cry is ringing through the Southern States,--"The schools for
the people; the people for the schools; and a higher standard of
education and of life for the community."

The South is in line for the New Education. School officials are
working. Superintendent Daniel writes,--"Everyone connected with the
system has been too intent on doing his work well and in establishing
and maintaining the ideals of the system to be disturbed by petty
difficulties. The teachers," he adds, "have appeared to feel that it was
rather a privilege than a burden to participate in making the Columbus
system efficient through the preparation of her children for life."[29]
The public is asking for a correlation of school with life, and the
schools are educating the South through the children.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 24: Now State Superintendent. See an article
"'Corn-Club' Smith," P. C. Macfarlane, Collier's Weekly, May 17,
1913, p. 19.]

[Footnote 25: United States Department of Agriculture, Bureau of
Plant Industry, Results of Boys' Demonstration Work in Corn Clubs
in 1911, Washington, May, 1912, p. 4.]

[Footnote 26: Op. cit., pp. 5-6.]

[Footnote 27: U. S. Department of Agriculture, Bureau of Plant
Industry, Girls' Demonstration Work, Washington, January, 1913,
pp. 1-2.]

[Footnote 28: For a full statement of the work of the Columbus
Schools see "Industrial Education in Columbus,["] Ga., R. B.
Daniel, U. S. Bureau of Education, Bulletin 535, Government
Printing Office, 1913. Also, The Annual Report of the Columbus
Public Schools for the Year Ending August 1, 1913.]

[Footnote 29: Annual report of the Columbus Public Schools, 1913,
p. 18.]

CHAPTER XIII

THE SPIRIT OF THE NEW EDUCATION

I The Standard of Education

The educational experiments described in the preceding chapters are
replete with the spirit of the New Education. From the virile
educational systems of the country a protest is being sounded against
traditional formalism. School men have learned that that which is is not
necessarily right. Each concept, each method, must run the gauntlet of
critical analysis. It is not sufficient to allege in support of an
educational principle that the results derived from its application have
been satisfactory in the past. Insistently the question is repeated,
"What are its effects upon the problems of to-day?"

Educational ancestor worship is no more acceptable to the progressive
spirit of the Western World than is ancestor worship in any other form.
The past has made its contribution, and has died in making it. For the
contribution the present is grateful, but it must steadfastly refuse in
its own name, and in the name of the future, to be bound by any decree
of the past which will not stand the acid test of present experience.

The old education was beset by traditionalism. Under its dominance,
education, defined once and for all, was established as a standard to
which men must attain; hence a preceptor, guiding his young charges
along the straight path to knowledge, might, with perfect confidence,
admonish them, "Lo here, the three R's is education," or "Lo there,
Greek and higher mathematics is education," according as his training
had been in the three R's or in Greek. In either case he felt certain of
his general ground. Once and for all the educational standard had been
set. By that standard new ideas were judged, and either justified or
condemned.

Under this predetermined scheme there was a formula for education--a
formula as definite as that for making bread or pickling pork. The
formula was applied to each child who presented himself to the
administration. If the formula worked successfully the child was
declared educated in the same way that pork which has been successfully
treated by the proper processes is declared to be pickled. If the
formula did not work the child was not educated. He sat in school with a
dunce-cap upon his head, or else played hookey and spent his hours in
fishing, swimming or idling.

Perhaps, in view of the recent contributions of science, it would be
more illuminating to say that the old education inoculated the child
with a predetermined educational virus. If the virus "took" the child
was declared immune to the bacteria of ignorance, illiteracy, stupidity
and other prevalent social complaints. If the virus did not take the
schoolmaster ostentatiously washed his hands of the recreant.

II Standardization Was a Failure

Only one argument need be urged against this method of attacking the
educational problem--it did not work. In the first place, the most
brilliant school successes often turned out to be the most arrant life
failures, while the school derelicts frequently became life successes of
stellar magnitude. To the thinking man the inference was plain; the
formula was not an unqualified success. Not only was this true of the
children who went through school, but there were crowds of children for
whom the school held no attraction whatever. They attended a few
sessions, wasted a scant bit of energy in educational effort, and then
dropped out, hopeless of obtaining results by further "study."

The old education read out of the school those children who could not
benefit by its teachings. How utterly different the concept which has
gripped the minds of progressive, modern educators! Under their guidance
education has become what Herbert Spencer called it--a preparation for
complete living. No longer a fixed, objective standard, education has
been recognized as an enlargement of the life horizon of each individual
boy or girl in the community. "Teach us individual needs," proclaim the
educational progressives, "and we will tell you what the character of
education must be."

Thus has education ceased to be an objective standard, created by one
age and handed down rigidly immobile to the ages succeeding. Instead it
is accepted as a fulfilment--a complement--to child needs. Always
education has been regarded as a process of molding life and character.
The chief difference between the old and the new education is that the
old education made a mold, and then forced the child to fit the mold,
while the new education begins by determining the character of child
needs, and then fits the mold to the needs. The old education was like
the farmer who built a corn-sheller, and then attempted to find ears of
corn which would fit into the sheller; the new education is like the
farmer who first measured the corn and then built his sheller to fit the
corn. The old education selected the class which was able to conform to
its requirements; the new education serves all classes.

III Education as Growth

Under the impetus given to it by modern thinkers, education has become
the direction of growth, rather than the application of a formula. The
child is a developing creature. It has become the function of education
to watch over and guide the development.

Nor do the modern schools consider mental development as the sole object
of educational endeavor. Physical growth is an equally essential part of
child life. Therefore the direction of physical growth becomes just as
vital a part of the educational machinery. Aesthetic and spiritual
growth require like emphasis. Each phase of child life receives
independent consideration.

The old education through mental impression is giving way before the new
education through physical, mental and spiritual expression. Expression
is the essence of growth; and since the school is to foster child growth
it must place child expression in a place of paramount importance.

Child needs, rather than abstract standards, have thus become the basis
of school activity. The old education developed its course of study by
surveying the interests of adults, and picking from among them those,
apparently the most simple, which were fit for children. The new
education applies the laboratory method--studying children and their
interests--reports, among its other findings, the quite evident fact
that children enter into life as whole-heartedly as adults; that the
field of their interest lies, not in the left-over problems of older
people, but in their own problems and processes; and that therefore the
educator must found his philosophy and his practice on an understanding
of the child and child needs.

There is in the world a phenomenon called adult life, with its phases,
problems and ideals. There is likewise in the world a phenomenon called
child life, with its phases, problems and ideals. A complete
understanding of either may not be derived through a study of the other.
Child needs exist separate from and different from adult needs. It is
the business of the new education to understand them and meet them.

Two appeals are reaching the ears of the modern educator: the first, the
appeal of the child; the second, the appeal of the community. The appeal
of the child is an appeal for the opportunity of developing all of its
faculties. Physically, children grow. The school, recognizing this fact,
is making a vigorous effort to break the shell of custom, which has
confined its activities to purely intellectual pursuits, and provide a
physical training which will lead the school child to perfect normal
body growth, as well as normal growth of mind. Even in its intellectual
activity the school is recognizing the importance of making the child
mind an active machine for thought, rather than a passive storehouse for
information. Though less emphasized, the training for sensual growth is
becoming of ever increasing importance in the new education. Above all,
the aesthetic side of child life is being expanded in an effort to round
out a completed adulthood.

IV Child Needs and Community Needs

The recognition of child needs, which forms so integral a part of the
new education, is paralleled by a similar recognition of the needs of
the community. The progressive educator is laying aside for a moment the
details of his task, and asking himself the pertinent question: "What
should the community expect in return for the annual expenditure of a
billion dollars on public education?" What are community needs if not
the needs for manhood and womanhood? They are well summed up in three
words--virility, efficiency, citizenship. Possessed of those attributes
a group of individuals rounds itself inevitably into a vigorous,
progressive community. They are normal qualities which a people must
demand if their social standards are to be maintained. Since they
constitute so vital an element in social life, a community lavish in its
expenditures for schools may surely expect the school product to be
virile, efficient, worthy citizens. The new education, recognizing the
justice of this demand, is crying out insistently for social, as well as
individual, training in the school.

The new educational institutions have set themselves to meet the needs
of the child and of the community. Their success depends upon their
ability to understand these needs and to supply them.

The old-fashioned schoolmaster asked: "How can I compel?" His answer was
the rod. The modern schoolmaster asks: "How can I direct?" His answer is
a laboratory, open-minded, scientific method, and a host of varied
courses designed to meet the needs of individual children and of
individual communities.

Communities vary as greatly in their characteristics as do children. It
is now certain that no formula will provide education for all children.
Each new study of community needs makes it more evident that no system
will supply education for all communities. It is the business of the
educator to study the individual child and the individual community, and
then to provide an education that will assist both to grow normally and
soundly in all of their parts.

V The Final Test of Education

The school is a servant, not a master. In that fact lies its
greatness--the greatness of its opportunity and of its responsibility.
As an institution its object is service--assistance in growth.
Development is the goal of education. Virility, efficiency, citizenship,
manhood, womanhood--these are its legitimate products. Its tools and
formulas are such as will most effectively serve these ends. When the
increase of knowledge leads to new methods and formulas which will prove
more effective than the old ones, then the old ones must be laid aside,
reverently, perhaps, but none the less firmly, and the new ones adopted.
Changes may not be made hastily and without due consideration; but when
experiment has shown that the new device is more advantageous in
furthering the objects of education than the old and tried formulas, a
change is inevitable.

The first and last word on the subject is spoken when this question is
asked and answered: "Does education exist for children, or do children
exist for education?"

If children exist for education, then it is just that an objective
educational standard should be created; it is fair that a hard and fast
course of study be mapped out in conformity with that standard; it is
right that educational machinery be constructed which automatically
turns away from the schools any child who does not conform to the school
system as it is. If children exist for education, they should either
conform to its requirements, or else, if they will not or cannot
conform, they should be mercilessly thrust aside.

If, on the other hand, education exists for children, then the primal
consideration must be child needs. If any one child, or any group of
children, has needs which are not met by existing educational
institutions, then these institutions must be remodeled. If an adequate
congenial education is a part of the birthright of every American child,
then educational institutions must be reorganized and reshaped until
they provide that birthright in the fullest possible measure.

Already the answer has been formulated. Already educators have
recognized the potency of the saying: "The schools were made for the
children, not the children for the schools." Hence it follows that no
school system is so sacred, no method of teaching so venerable, no
textbook so infallible, no machinery of administration so permanent,
that it must not give way before the educational needs of childhood.

Concerning the educational problem of to-day, yesterday cannot speak
with authority. Each age has its problems--problems which may be solved
by that age, or handed on unsolved to the future. The past is dead. Only
its voice--its advice and suggestion--serves as a guide or as a warning.
Of authority it should have not an atom.

The educational opportunities of to-day are without peer. The
educational machinery, ready at hand, is being transformed to meet the
newly understood needs of the child and of the community. The spirit of
the new education is the spirit of service, the spirit of fair dealing,
the spirit of growth for the individual and of advancement for society.
Here are individual needs. There are aligned the social obligations and
requirements of the age. In so far as it lies within the power of the
school, the children who leave its doors shall have their needs
supplied, and shall be equipped to play their part as virile, efficient
citizens in a greater community. Such is the spirit of the new
education.

INDEX

Age distribution, 36.
and school progress, 37.

Ages of childhood, 35.

American school system, Statistics of, 19, 20.

Applied education, need for, 156.

Applied work, Cincinnati, 136.
in the grades, 161.

Average children and the old education, 39.
fallacy of, 34.

Berks County schools, manual training in, 186.
physical training in, 186.

Boys and girls, object of educating, 42.

Brown, E. E., quoted, 13.

Carney, Mabel, quoted, 179.

Chancellor, W. R., quoted, 40, 41.

Change, prevalence of, 24.
in social structure, 25.

Child growth, stages of, 44.

Child needs, recognition of, 56.
and community needs, 255.

Childhood, ages of, 35.

Children, needs of analyzed, 45.
social needs of, 48.
varying capacity of, 37, 38.
vs. subject matter, 39.

Cincinnati, educational advantages of, 148.
kindergarten work in, 129.
school system of, 125.
school policy continued, 150.
special school work in, 141.
schools, co-operation in, 126.
creed of, 127.
general support of, 126.
new plans for, 149.
social centers in, 151.
social work of, 150.

City and country, educational value of, 29.

City home, effect of industrial changes on, 30, 31.

City life and the new basis for education, 28, 29.

Civic education, necessity for, 49.

Civics teaching in the grades, Cincinnati, 135.

Club activity in schools, recognition of, 235.

Columbus, Ga., curriculum of schools, 244.
local needs basis of, 242, 243.
school policy of, 242, 243.

Community and the school, 72.
education applied to a small town, 52.
life, contribution of schools to, 167.
needs and child life, 256.

Consolidated school, advantages of, 179, 180.
course of study in, 172.
daily program in, 174.
disadvantages of, 179.
growth of in South, 177, 178.

Continuation High School work, 109.
schools in Ohio, 76.

Co-operation, spirit of in consolidated schools, 172.

Country, the call of the, 170, 171.

Country life, transformation in, 171, 172.

Country school, daily program in a district, 173.
daily program in a consolidated, 174.
two possibilities of, 171.
the duty of, 194.
new geography, 185.
task of, 193, 194.
transformation in, 171, 172.
schools and physical training, 186.

Courses of study, correlation in, 135.
home school, 69.

Criticism of schools, general, 11.
significance, 17.

Curriculum, content of, 44.
requirements of, 51.

Defectives, treatment of, Cincinnati, 144.

Discipline, disappearance of, Oyler School, 165.

Distribution of age, 36.

District school, daily program in, 173.

Domestic science, course in Lowville High School, 122.
course in Page County, 190.
home school movement, 68.
importance of, 51.
in the grades, 159.
in a Kentucky school, 195-200.
in Sleepy Eye schools, 213-216.
problems in, 160.

Draper, A. S., quoted, 12, 13, 18.

Education and the industrial revolution, 26, 27, 30.
and the success habit, 95.
as growth, 254.
city, effect of industrial changes on, 30, 31.
creed of, Cincinnati schools, 127.
elastic system of, 127.
essentials of, 15, 16.
for home-making, 68.
for life, 43.
for the whole child, 81.
in the early home, 27, 28.
place of physical training in, 71.
public lectures and, 73.
purpose of, 15, 16.
new basis for, 24.
new studies, 74.
object of, 22, 23, 42.
social importance of, 19, 20.
specialization in, 75.
standard of, 251.
theory and practice, 242-249.
in Kentucky, reaching parents through children, 195-206.
in the South, canning clubs, 234, 235.
corn clubs, 225-228, 229-233.
effect of on corn yield, 230-233.
improving health, 241.
improving home life, 239, 241.
teaching parents through children, 225-228, 229-233.

Educational advance in Cincinnati, 148.

Educational formulas, danger of, 252.

Educational needs and the small town, 52.

Educational problems of an industrial community, 55.

Educational work and the small town, 52.

Elementary grades, activities of, 87.
co-operation in, 86.
special studies for, 89.
spirit of service in, 90.

English, as a stimulus for other studies, 63.
constructive work in, 61, 62.
new methods for, 61.
organization of, Grand Rapids High School, 111.
original work, 65.
story work and, 64.
use of in other studies, 111.

Enrollment and attendance, statistics of, 17, 18.

Facts, place of in education, 22.

Fallacy of average children, 34, 35.

Fisher, Irving, quoted, 15.

Formalism in education, danger of, 252.

Froebel, F., quoted, 28.

Gary, plan of the schools in, 81.

Geography, new method of teaching, 59.

Geography and arithmetic, method of teaching in
a southern school, 246-248.

Geography in Newark, 59.

Grade work, regeneration of, Cincinnati, 132.

Grades, amalgamation of with high school, 99.
applied work in, 161.

Grand Rapids High School, vocational guidance in, 110.

Growth, and child activity, 47.
and education, 254.
through play, 46.
of children, stages in, 44.

Hanus, P. H., quoted, 13, 14.

Health, importance of, 45.

High School, amalgamation of with grades, 99.
at Lowville, 116.
course of study in Cincinnati, 138.
future of, 114.
growing importance of, 54-56.
popularization of Cincinnati, 137.
promotion to, without examinations, 94.
responsibility of, 92.
social status of, 92.

High school children, experiments with, 92.

High school courses, arrangement of, 108.

High school status, Superintendent Spaulding on, 92.

High school training, right of children to, 105.

High schools, co-operation with elementary grades, 98.
technical development of, 106.

Home, education in, 27, 28.

Home making, education for, 68.

Home school, activities of, 70.
course of work in, 69.
in Indianapolis, 68.
in Providence, 69.

Home visiting in the grades, 166.

Home work, disadvantages of, 79.
opportunities for in school, 79.

Huxley, T. H., quoted, 16.

Industrial communities, educational problems, 55.

Industrial High School, place of in the school system, 248.

Industrial system, effect of on education, 27.

Institutions, effects of change upon, 26.

John Swaney School, course of study, 176.
equipment of, 176.
social life in, 176, 177.

Junior High Schools, outlook for, 98.

Kentucky education, teaching a community to cook, 195-200.

Kindergartens, at Gary, Ind., 58.
progressive work in, 58.
in relation to grade work, 131.
vitalized work in, 129.

Linden, Ind., equipment of consolidated schools, 175.

Locust Grove School, method of teaching a community, 195-206.

Lowville High School, courses in, 121.
domestic science in, 122.
social service of, 123.
work in, 116.

Mass training, defects of, 101.

Mathematics, and life problems, 60.
in Gary schools, 60.
in Indianapolis schools, 60.

Mothers' clubs, organization of, 163.
work of, Cincinnati, 132, 163.

Needs of school children, 43.

New basis for education, 24.
and city life, 28, 29.

New education in the South, 220-250.

Newark vacation school, 80.

Newton Technical High School, success of, 96.

North Highland School, industrial training in, 245, 246.
raising community standards, 245.

Oconto County, Wis., schools, agricultural work in, 183-185.
the new arithmetic, 184, 185.
the new English, 184, 185.

Ohio, continuation schools, 76.

Old education, spirit of, 253.

One-room school, making it worth while, 182-187.
possibilities of, 182-187.

Open air schools, 71.
results of, 72.

Original work in English, 65.

Overwork, extent in schools, 14, 15.

Oyler School, social education in, 153.

Page County, Iowa, contests in schools, 189.
domestic science, 190.
ideal schools in, 188-193.
social life in, 191, 192.
training for country life, 189-190.

Physical training and education, 71.
a part of school work, 82.

Play, and growth, 46.
creative forms of, 48.
stages of, 47.

Playgrounds, Cincinnati, 145.

Popularized High Schools, Cincinnati, 137.

Promotion for special students, 92.

Promotion, improvements in, 85.
new methods of, 85.

Promotion average, fetish of, 40, 41.

Public lectures, and education, 73.

Rapp, Eli, quoted, 182, 186.

Regeneration of grade work, Cincinnati, 132.

Rural districts, needs of, 54.

School and community, 167.

School and shop work in high school, 109.

School feeding, 72.

School children, needs of, 43.

School equipment, educational nature of, 120.

School houses, social uses for, 117.

School machinery, abolition of, 84.
necessity for, 32.
new standards of, 32.

School mortality, statistics of, 18.

School plant, wider use of, 73.

School progress and age distribution, 37.

School work related to shop work, 76.

Schools, agricultural training at Sleepy Eye, 208-211.
agricultural training in Oconto County, Wis., 183-185.
agricultural training in Page County, 189, 190.
and the community, 72.
as public servants, 257.
city, effect on children, 33, 34.
condition of, Montclair, N. J., 13, 14.
consolidated vs. district, 171, 172.
courses at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 218.
courses fitted to community needs at Sleepy Eye, 207, 208.
domestic science at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 213-216.
elementary plumbing at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 209.
equipment at Sleepy Eye, 214.
equipment of Linden, Ind., 175.
general criticism of, 11.
influence on community at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 217.
local service of, 157.
mechanical course at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 214.
Montgomery County, Ind., 180, 181.
Page County, Iowa, 189-193.
purpose of, 42, 43.
short agricultural course at Sleepy Eye, Minn., 212, 213.
size of, 33.
social uses of, Cincinnati, 158.

Self-government in high schools, 102, 104.

Sex hygiene, importance of, 46.

Shop work and school work, 76.

Sleepy Eye, Minn., course in domestic science, 213-216.
course in elementary plumbing and steam-fitting, 209.
courses given in schools, 218.
department of agriculture, 208-211.
equipment for mechanical work, 214.
fitting schools to community needs, 207, 208.
influence on community at large, 217.
mechanical course, 214.

Sleepy Eye, Minn., short course in agriculture, 212, 213.

Small town, educational work of, 52.

Smith, W. H., "Corn Club," 228.

Social centers in Cincinnati schools, 151.

Social change, 25.

Social education, Cincinnati, 153.
content of, 49.

Social importance of education, 19, 20.

Social needs of children, 48.

Southern schools, corn clubs in, 225-228, 229-233.

Special school for defectives, Cincinnati, 144.

Special schools, Cincinnati, 141.

Specialization in education, 75.

Spencer, H., quoted, 16.

Standard of education, 251.

Story work and English, 64.

Student organization in high school, 102.

Subjects of study, summary of, 51.

Success habits in education, 95.

Summer schools, Cincinnati, 145.

Technical High Schools, development of, 106.

Three "R's," Progressive work in, 59.

Twelve-year schools, possibilities of, 99.

Tyler, J. M., quoted, 16.

University of Cincinnati, social relations of, 140.

Vacation schools in Newark, 80.

Vernon school, before and after consolidation, 181.

Vocational guidance in high schools, 110.

Vocational training, appeal of, 78.
Cincinnati, 142.
in elementary grades, 77.
Lowville, 117.

Washington Irving High School, procedure in, 102.

Waste in education, 12, 13.
extent of, 18, 19.

Wider use of the schools, Lowville, 117.

William Penn High School, student organization in, 104.

* * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Obvious
typographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and the like) have
been fixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted below:

page 4: missing quote added

article, will exclaim,--"[']There is something that we must
introduce into our schools.'"

page 8: added missing word

VIII. Breaching [the] Chinese Wall of High School Classicism

page 9: typo corrected

I. "Coöperation"[Co-operation] and "Progressivism"

page 29: typo corrected

Standing on the threshhold[threshold] of his meager dwelling,
this child of six looks forward

page 77: typo corrected

school district establishes part-time day schools for the
instruction of youths over fourteen years af[of] age who are
engaged in regular employment, such board of education

page 94: typo corrected

buying of materials and simple acounting[accounting] covered
their mathematics. Those were the things which would probably

page 94: missing quote added

school classes. They all brushed their hair. The boys were
neater and the girls were becomingly dressed.["]

page 103: typo corrected

"Yes, it was a wrench," Mr. McAndrews[McAndrew] admits. "You
see, the teachers hated to give up. They had been

page 123: missing quote added

will all bear directly on the work of the farm in which he is so
deeply interested.["]

page 167: missing quote added

that is enough. We have no problem of discipline now. The
children and their parents are working for the school.["]

page 197: missing quote added

first thing I knew, the way opened up--you never would guess
how--it was through biscuits.["]

page 220: typo corrected

biggest burden we have to carry--the most determined enemy we
have to fight? Well, sir, its's[it's] ignorance--the ignorance
of the common man about his farm or his

page 233: missing quote added

other States were equally good in view of the fact that a
drought prevailed very generally throughout the South in
1911.["][26]

Footnote 28: missing quote added

For a full statement of the work of the Columbus Schools see
"Industrial Education in Columbus,["] Ga., R. B. Daniel,

page 246: missing quote added

should use text-books as adults do books of reference, while the
teacher guides and directs in the development of thought.["]

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The New Education - A Review of Progressive Educational Movements of the Day (1915)" ***

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