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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12291 ***

THE TEACHER.

       *       *       *       *       *

MORAL INFLUENCES

EMPLOYED IN

THE INSTRUCTION AND GOVERNMENT

OF

THE YOUNG.

A NEW AND REVISED EDITION.

BY JACOB ABBOTT.

With Engravings.

1873.


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight
hundred and fifty-six, by

HARPER & BROTHERS,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of
New York.



PREFACE.


This book is intended to detail, in a familiar and practical manner, a
system of arrangements for the organization and management of a school,
based on the employment, so far as is practicable, of _Moral
Influences_, as a means of effecting the objects in view. Its design is,
not to bring forward new theories or new plans, but to develop and
explain, and to carry out to their practical applications such
principles as, among all skillful and experienced teachers, are
generally admitted and acted upon. Of course it is not designed for the
skillful and experienced themselves, but it is intended to embody what
they already know, and to present it in a practical form for the use of
those who are beginning the work, and who wish to avail themselves of
the experience which others have acquired.

Although moral influences are the chief foundations on which the power
of the teacher over the minds and hearts of his pupils is, according to
this treatise, to rest, still it must not be imagined that the system
here recommended is one of persuasion. It is a system of
authority--supreme and unlimited authority--a point essential in all
plans for the supervision of the young; but it is authority secured and
maintained as far as possible by moral measures. There will be no
dispute about the propriety of making the most of this class of means.
Whatever difference of opinion there may be on the question whether
physical force is necessary at all, every one will agree that, if ever
employed, it must be only as a last resort, and that no teacher ought to
make war upon the body, unless it is proved that he can not conquer
through the medium of the mind.

In regard to the anecdotes and narratives which are very freely
introduced to illustrate principles in this work, the writer ought to
state that, though they are all substantially true--that is, all except
those which are expressly introduced as mere suppositions, he has not
hesitated to alter very freely, for obvious reasons, the unimportant
circumstances connected with them. He has endeavored thus to destroy the
personality of the narratives without injuring or altering their moral
effect.

From the very nature of our employment, and of the circumstances under
which the preparation for it must be made, it is plain that, of the many
thousands who are in the United States annually entering the work, a
very large majority must depend for all their knowledge of the art,
except what they acquire from their own observation and experience, on
what they can obtain from books. It is desirable that the class of works
from which such knowledge can be obtained should be increased. Some
excellent and highly useful specimens have already appeared, and very
many more would be eagerly read by teachers, if properly prepared. It is
essential, however, that they should be written by experienced
teachers, who have for some years been actively engaged and specially
interested in the work; that they should be written in a very practical
and familiar style, and that they should exhibit principles which are
unquestionably true, and generally admitted by good teachers, and not
the new theories peculiar to the writer himself. In a word, utility and
practical effect should be the only aim.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I.
INTEREST IN TEACHING.
Source of enjoyment in teaching.--The boy and the steam-engine.--His
contrivance.--His pleasure, and the source of it.--Firing at the
mark.--Plan of clearing the galleries in the British House of
Commons.--Pleasure of experimenting, and exercising intellectual and
moral power.--The indifferent and inactive teacher.--His subsequent
experiments; means of awakening interest.--Offenses of pupils.
--Different ways of regarding them.

Teaching really attended with peculiar trials and difficulties.--1.
Moral responsibility for the conduct of pupils.--2. Multiplicity of the
objects of attention.


CHAPTER II.
GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS.
Objects to be aimed at in the general arrangements.--Systematizing the
teacher's work.--Necessity of having only one thing to attend to at a
time.

1. Whispering and leaving seats.--An experiment.--Method of regulating
this.--Introduction of the new plan.--Difficulties.--Dialogue with
pupils.--Study-card.--Construction and use.
2. Mending pens.--Unnecessary trouble from this source.--Degree of
importance to be attached to good pens.--Plan for providing them.
3. Answering questions.--Evils.--Each pupil's fair proportion of
time.--Questions about lessons.--When the teacher should refuse to
answer them.--Rendering assistance.--When to be refused.
4. Hearing recitations.--Regular arrangement of
them.--Punctuality.--Plan and schedule.--General exercises.--Subjects to
be attended to at them.

General arrangements of government.--Power to be delegated to
pupils.--Gardiner Lyceum.--Its government.--The trial.--Real republican
government impracticable in schools.--Delegated power.--Experiment with
the writing-books.--Quarrel about the nail.--Offices for
pupils.--Cautions.--Danger of insubordination.--New plans to be
introduced gradually.


CHAPTER III.
INSTRUCTION.
The three important branches.--The objects which are really most
important.--Advanced scholars.--Examination of school and scholars at
the outset.--Acting on numbers.--Extent to which it may be
carried.--Recitation and Instruction.

1. Recitation.--Its object.--Importance of a thorough examination of the
class.--Various modes.--Perfect regularity and order necessary.
--Example.--Story of the pencils.--Time wasted by too minute an
attention to individuals.--Example.--Answers given simultaneously to
save time.--Excuses.--Dangers in simultaneous recitation.--Means of
avoiding them.--Advantages of this mode.--Examples.--Written answers.
2. Instruction.--Means of exciting
interest.--Variety.--Examples.--Showing the connection between the
studies of school and the business of life.--Example from the
controversy between general and state governments.--Mode of illustrating
it.--Proper way of meeting difficulties.--Leading pupils to surmount
them.--True way to encourage the young to meet difficulties.--The boy
and the wheel-barrow.--Difficult examples in arithmetic.

Proper way of rendering assistance.--(1.) Simply analyzing intricate
subjects.--Dialogue on longitude.--(2.) Making previous truths perfectly
familiar.--Experiment with the multiplication table.--Latin Grammar
lesson.--Geometry.

3. General cautions.--Doing work _for_ the scholar.--Dullness.--Interest
in _all_ the pupils.--Making all alike.--Faults of pupils.--The
teacher's own mental habits.--False pretensions.


CHAPTER IV.
MORAL DISCIPLINE.
First impressions.--Story.--Danger of devoting too much attention to
individual instances.--The profane boy.--Case described.--Confession of
the boys.--Success.--The untidy desk.--Measures in consequence.
--Interesting the scholars in the good order of the school.--Securing a
majority.--Example.--Reports about the desks.--The new College
building.--Modes of interesting the boys.--The irregular class.--Two
ways of remedying the evil.--Boys' love of system and regularity.
--Object of securing a majority, and particular means of doing
it.--Making school pleasant.--Discipline should generally be
private.--In all cases that are brought before the school, public
opinion in the teacher's favor should be secured.--Story of the
rescue.--Feelings of displeasure against what is wrong.--The teacher
under moral obligation, and governed, himself, by law.--Description of
the _Moral Exercise_.--Prejudice.--The scholars' written remarks, and
the teacher's comments.--The spider.--List of subjects.--Anonymous
writing.--Specimens.--Marks of a bad scholar.--Consequences of being
behindhand.--New scholars.--A satirical spirit.--Variety.

Treatment of individual offenders.--Ascertaining who they are.--Studying
their characters.--Securing their personal attachment.--Asking
assistance.--The whistle.--Open, frank dealing.--Example.--Dialogue with
James.--Communications in writing.


CHAPTER V.
RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE.
The American mechanic at Paris.--A Congregational teacher among
Quakers.--Parents have the ultimate right to decide how their children
shall be educated.

Agreement in religious opinion in this country.--Principle which is to
guide the teacher on this subject.--Limits and restrictions to religious
influence in school.--Religious truths which are generally admitted in
this country.--The existence of God.--Human responsibility.--Immortality
of the soul.--A revelation.--Nature of piety.--Salvation by
Christ.--Teacher to do nothing on this subject but what he may do by the
common consent of his employers.--Reasons for explaining distinctly
these limits.

Particular measures proposed.--Opening exercises.--Prayer.--Singing.
--Direct instruction.--Mode of giving it.--Example; arrangement of the
Epistles in the New Testament.--Dialogue.--Another example; scene in the
woods.--Cautions.--Affected simplicity of language.--Evils of
it.--Minute details.--Example; motives to study.--Dialogue.--Mingling
religious influence with the direct discipline of the school.--Fallacious
indications of piety.--Sincerity of the teacher.


CHAPTER VI.
MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL.
Reason for inserting the description.--Advantage of visiting schools,
and of reading descriptions of them.--Addressed to a new scholar.--Her
personal duty.--Study-card.--Rule.--But one rule.--Cases when this rule
maybe waived.--1. At the direction of teachers.--2. On extraordinary
emergencies.--Reasons for the rule.--Anecdote.--Punishments.--Incidents
described.--Confession.

2. Order of daily exercises.--Opening of the school.--Schedules.--Hours
of study and recess.--General exercises.--Business.--Examples.--Sections.

3. Instruction and supervision of
pupils.--Classes.--Organization.--Sections.--Duties of superintendents.

4. Officers.--Design in appointing them.--Their names and
duties.--Example of the operation of the system.

5. The court.--Its plan and design.--A trial described.

6. Religious instruction.--Principles inculcated.--Measures.--Religious
exercises in school.--Meeting on Saturday afternoon.--Concluding
remarks.


CHAPTER VII.
SCHEMING.
Time lost upon fruitless schemes.--Proper province of ingenuity and
enterprise.--Cautions.--Case supposed.--The spelling class; an
experiment with it; its success and its consequences.--System of
literary institutions in this country.--Directions to a young teacher on
the subject of forming new plans.--New institutions; new
schoolbooks.--Ingenuity and enterprise very useful, within proper
limits.--Ways of making known new plans.--Periodicals.--Family
newspapers.--Teachers' meetings.

Rights of committees, trustees, or patrons, in the control of the
school.--Principle which ought to govern.--Case supposed.--Extent to
which the teacher is bound by the wishes of his employers.


CHAPTER VIII.
REPORTS OF CASES.
Plan of the chapter.--Hats and bonnets.--Injury to clothes.--Mistakes which
are not censurable.--Tardiness; plan for punishing it.--Helen's
lesson.--Firmness in measures united with mildness of manner.--Insincere
confession: scene in a class.--Court.--Trial of a case.--Teacher's
personal character.--The way to elevate the character of the
employment.--Six hours only to be devoted to school.--The chestnut
burr.--Scene in the wood.--Dialogue in school.--An experiment.--Series
of lessons in writing.--The correspondence.--Two kinds of
management.--Plan of weekly reports.--The shopping exercise.
--Example.--Artifices in recitations.--Keeping resolution notes of
teacher's lecture.--Topics.--Plan and illustration of the exercise.
--Introduction of music.--Tabu.--Mental analysis.--Scene in a class.


CHAPTER IX.
THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY.
Embarrassments of young teachers in first entering upon their
duties.--Preliminary information to be acquired in respect to the
school.--Visits to the parents.--Making acquaintance with the
scholars.--Opening the school.--Mode of setting the scholars at work on
the first day.--No sudden changes to be made.--Misconduct.--Mode of
disposing of the cases of it.--Conclusion.




THE TEACHER.




CHAPTER I.


INTEREST IN TEACHING.

A most singular contrariety of opinion prevails in the community in
regard to the _pleasantness_ of the business of teaching. Some teachers
go to their daily task merely upon compulsion; they regard it as
intolerable drudgery. Others love the work: they hover around the
school-room as long as they can, and never cease to think, and seldom to
talk, of their delightful labors.

Unfortunately, there are too many of the former class, and the first
object which, in this work, I shall attempt to accomplish, is to show my
readers, especially those who have been accustomed to look upon the
business of teaching as a weary and heartless toil, how it happens that
it is, in any case, so pleasant. The human mind is always essentially
the same. That which is tedious and joyless to one, will be so to
another, if pursued in the same way, and under the same circumstances.
And teaching, if it is pleasant, animating, and exciting to one, may be
so to all.

I am met, however, at the outset, in my effort to show why it is that
teaching is ever a pleasant work, by the want of a name for a certain
faculty or capacity of the human mind, through which most of the
enjoyment of teaching finds its avenue. Every mind is so constituted as
to take a positive pleasure in the exercise of ingenuity in adapting
means to an end, and in watching the operation of them--in accomplishing
by the intervention of instruments what we could not accomplish
without--in devising (when we see an object to be effected which is too
great for our _direct_ and _immediate_ power) and setting at work some
_instrumentality_ which may be sufficient to accomplish it.

[Illustration: Steam Engine]

It is said that when the steam-engine was first put into operation,
such was the imperfection of the machinery, that a boy was necessarily
stationed at it to open and shut alternately the cock by which the steam
was now admitted and now shut out from the cylinder. One such boy, after
patiently doing his work for many days, contrived to connect this
stop-cock with some of the moving parts of the engine by a wire, in such
a manner that the engine itself did the work which had been intrusted to
him; and after seeing that the whole business would go regularly
forward, he left the wire in charge, and went away to play.

Such is the story. Now if it is true, how much pleasure the boy must
have experienced in devising and witnessing the successful operation of
his scheme. I do not mean the pleasure of relieving himself from a dull
and wearisome duty; I do not mean the pleasure of anticipated play; but
I mean the strong interest he must have taken in _contriving and
executing his plan_. When, wearied out with his dull, monotonous work,
he first noticed those movements of the machinery which he thought
adapted to his purpose, and the plan flashed into his mind, how must his
eye have brightened, and how quick must the weary listlessness of his
employment have vanished. While he was maturing his plan and carrying it
into execution--while adjusting his wires, fitting them to the exact
length and to the exact position--and especially when, at last, he began
to watch the first successful operation of his contrivance, he must have
enjoyed a pleasure which very few even of the joyous sports of childhood
could have supplied.

It is not, however, exactly the pleasure of exercising _ingenuity in
contrivance_ that I refer to here; for the teacher has not, after all, a
great deal of absolute _contriving_ to do, or, rather, his _principal
business_ is not contriving. The greatest and most permanent source of
pleasure to the boy, in such a case as I have described, is his feeling
that he is accomplishing a great effect by a slight effort of his own;
the feeling of _power_; acting through the _intervention of
instrumentality_, so as to multiply his power. So great would be this
satisfaction, that he would almost wish to have some other similar work
assigned him, that he might have another opportunity to contrive some
plan for its easy accomplishment.

Looking at an object to be accomplished, or an evil to be remedied, then
studying its nature and extent, and devising and executing some means
for effecting the purpose desired, is, in all cases, a source of
pleasure; especially when, by the process, we bring to view or into
operation new powers, or powers heretofore hidden, whether they are our
own powers, or those of objects upon which we act. Experimenting has a
sort of magical fascination for all. Some do not like the trouble of
making preparations, but all are eager to see the results. Contrive a
new machine, and every body will be interested to witness or to hear of
its operation. Develop any heretofore unknown properties of matter, or
secure some new useful effect from laws which men have not hitherto
employed for their purposes, and the interest of all around you will be
excited to observe your results; and, especially, you will yourself take
a deep and permanent pleasure in guiding and controlling the power you
have thus obtained.

This is peculiarly the case with experiments upon mind, or experiments
for producing effects through the medium of voluntary acts of others,
making it necessary that the contriver should take into consideration
the laws of mind in forming his plans. To illustrate this by rather a
childish case: I once knew a boy who was employed by his father to
remove all the loose small stones, which, from the peculiar nature of
the ground, had accumulated in the road before the house. The boy was
set at work by his father to take them up, and throw them over into the
pasture across the way. He soon got tired of picking up the stones one
by one, and so he sat down upon the bank to try to devise some better
means of accomplishing his work. He at length conceived and adopted the
following plan: He set up in the pasture a narrow board for a target,
or, as boys would call it, a mark, and then, collecting all the boys of
the neighborhood, he proposed to them an amusement which boys are always
ready for--firing at a mark. The stones in the road furnished the
ammunition, and, of course, in a very short time the road was cleared;
the boys working for the accomplishment of their leader's task, when
they supposed they were only finding amusement for themselves.

Here, now, is experimenting upon the mind--the production of useful
effect with rapidity and ease by the intervention of proper
instrumentality--the conversion, by means of a little knowledge of human
nature, of that which would have otherwise been dull and fatiguing labor
into a most animating sport, giving pleasure to twenty instead of
tedious labor to one. Now the contrivance and execution of such plans is
a source of positive pleasure. It is always pleasant to bring even the
properties and powers of matter into requisition to promote our designs;
but there is a far higher pleasure in controlling, and guiding, and
moulding to our purpose the movements of mind.

It is this which gives interest to the plans and operation of human
governments. Governments can, in fact, do little by actual force. Nearly
all the power that is held, even by the most despotic executive, must be
based on an adroit management of the principles of human nature, so as
to lead men voluntarily to co-operate with the leader in his plans. Even
an army could not be got into battle, in many cases, without a most
ingenious arrangement, by means of which half a dozen men can drive,
literally drive, as many thousands into the very face of danger and
death. The difficulty of leading men to battle must have been, for a
long time, a very perplexing one to generals. It was at last removed by
the very simple expedient of creating a greater danger behind than there
is before. Without ingenuity of contrivance like this, turning one
principle of human nature against another, and making it for the
momentary interest of men to act in a given way, no government could
stand.

I know of nothing which illustrates more perfectly the way by which a
knowledge of human nature is to be turned to account in managing human
minds than a plan which was adopted for clearing the galleries of the
British House of Commons many years ago, before the present Houses of
Parliament were built. There was then, as now, a gallery appropriated to
spectators, and it was customary to require these visitors to retire
when a vote was to be taken or private business was to be transacted.
When the officer in attendance was ordered to clear the gallery, it was
sometimes found to be a very troublesome and slow operation; for those
who first went out remained obstinately as close to the doors as
possible, so as to secure the opportunity to come in again first when
the doors should be re-opened. The consequence was, there was so great
an accumulation around the doors outside, that it was almost impossible
for the crowd to get out. The whole difficulty arose from the eager
desire of every one to remain as near as possible to the door, _through
which they were to come back again_. Notwithstanding the utmost efforts
of the officers, fifteen minutes were sometimes consumed in effecting
the object, when the order was given that the spectators should retire.

The whole difficulty was removed by a very simple plan. One door only
was opened when the crowd was to retire, and they were then admitted,
when the gallery was opened again, through _the other_. The consequence
was, that as soon as the order was given to clear the galleries, every
one fled as fast as possible through the open door around to the one
which was closed, so as to be ready to enter first, when that, in its
turn, should be opened. This was usually in a few minutes, as the
purpose for which the spectators were ordered to retire was in most
cases simply to allow time for taking a vote. Here it will be seen
that, by the operation of a very simple plan, the very eagerness of the
crowd to get back as soon as possible, which had been the _sole cause of
the difficulty_, was turned to account most effectually to the removal
of it. Before, the first that went out were so eager to return, that
they crowded around the door of egress in such a manner as to prevent
others going out; but by this simple plan of ejecting them by one door
and admitting them by another, that very eagerness made them clear the
passage at once, and caused every one to hurry away into the lobby the
moment the command was given.

The planner of this scheme must have taken great pleasure in witnessing
its successful operation; though the officer who should go steadily on,
endeavoring to remove the reluctant throng by dint of mere driving,
might well have found his task unpleasant. But the exercise of ingenuity
in studying the nature of the difficulty with which a man has to
contend, and bringing in some antagonist principle of human nature to
remove it, or, if not an antagonist principle, a similar principle,
operating, by a peculiar arrangement of circumstances, in an antagonist
manner, is always pleasant. From this source a large share of the
enjoyment which men find in the active pursuits of life has its origin.

The teacher has the whole field which this subject opens fully before
him. He has human nature to deal with most directly. His whole work is
one of experimenting upon mind; and the mind which is before him to be
the subject of his operation is exactly in the state to be most easily
and pleasantly operated upon. The reason now why some teachers find
their work delightful, and some find it wearisomeness and tedium itself,
is that some do and some do not take this view of the nature of it. One
instructor is like the engine-boy, turning, without cessation or change,
his everlasting stop-cock, in the same ceaseless, mechanical, and
monotonous routine. Another is like the little workman in his brighter
moments, arranging his invention, and watching with delight the
successful and easy accomplishment of his wishes by means of it. One is
like the officer, driving by vociferations, and threats, and
demonstrations of violence, the spectators from the galleries. The other
like the shrewd contriver, who converts the very desire to return, which
was the sole cause of the difficulty, to a most successful and efficient
means of its removal.

These principles show how teaching may, in some cases, be a delightful
employment, while in others its tasteless dullness is interrupted by
nothing but its perplexities and cares. The school-room is in reality a
little empire of mind. If the one who presides in it sees it in its true
light; studies the nature and tendency of the minds which he has to
control; adapts his plans and his measures to the laws of human nature,
and endeavors to accomplish his purposes for them, not by mere labor and
force, but by ingenuity and enterprise, he will take pleasure in
administering his little government. He will watch, with care and
interest, the operation of the moral and intellectual causes which he
sets in operation, and find, as he accomplishes his various objects with
increasing facility and power, that he will derive a greater and greater
pleasure from his work.

Now when a teacher thus looks upon his school as a field in which he is
to exercise skill, and ingenuity, and enterprise; when he studies the
laws of human nature, and the character of those minds upon which he has
to act; when he explores deliberately the nature of the field which he
has to cultivate, and of the objects which he wishes to accomplish, and
applies means judiciously and skillfully adapted to the object, he must
necessarily take a strong interest in his work. But when, on the other
hand, he goes to his employment only to perform a certain regular round
of daily toil, undertaking nothing and anticipating nothing but this
dull and unchangeable routine, and when he looks upon his pupils merely
as passive objects of his labors, whom he is to treat with simple
indifference while they obey his commands, and to whom he is only to
apply reproaches and punishment when they do wrong, such a teacher never
can take pleasure in the school. Weariness and dullness must reign in
both master and scholars when things, as he imagines, are going right,
and mutual anger and crimination when they go wrong.

[Illustration: School Master]

Scholars never can be successfully instructed by the power of any dull
mechanical routine, nor can they be properly governed by the blind,
naked strength of the master; such means must fail of the accomplishment
of the purposes designed, and consequently the teacher who tries such a
course must have constantly upon his mind the discouraging,
disheartening burden of unsuccessful and almost useless labor. He is
continually uneasy, dissatisfied, and filled with anxious cares, and
sources of vexation and perplexity continually arise. He attempts to
remove evils by waging against them a useless and most vexatious warfare
of threatening and punishment; and he is trying continually _to drive_,
when he might know that neither the intellect nor the heart are capable
of being driven.

I will simply state one case, to illustrate what I mean by the
difference between blind force and active ingenuity and enterprise in
the management of school. I once knew the teacher of a school who made
it his custom to have writing attended to in the afternoon. The school
was in the country, and it was the old times when quills, instead of
steel pens, were universally used. The boys were accustomed to take
their places at the appointed hour, and each one would set up his pen in
the front of his desk for the teacher to come and mend them. The teacher
would accordingly pass around the school-room, mending the pens, from
desk to desk, thus enabling the boys, in succession, to begin their
task. Of course, each boy, before the teacher came to his desk, was
necessarily idle, and, almost necessarily, in mischief. Day after day
the teacher went through this regular routine. He sauntered slowly and
listlessly through the aisles, and among the benches of the room,
wherever he saw the signal of a pen. He paid, of course, very little
attention to the writing, now and then reproving, with an impatient
tone, some extraordinary instance of carelessness, or leaving his work
to suppress some rising disorder. Ordinarily, however, he seemed to be
lost in vacancy of thought, dreaming, perhaps, of other scenes, or
inwardly repining at the eternal monotony and tedium of a teacher's
life. His boys took no interest in their work, and of course made no
progress. They were sometimes unnecessarily idle, and sometimes
mischievous, but never usefully or pleasantly employed, for the whole
hour was passed before the pens could all be brought down. Wasted time,
blotted books, and fretted tempers were all the results which the system
produced.

The same teacher afterward acted on a very different principle. He
looked over the field, and said to himself, "What are the objects which
I wish to accomplish in this writing exercise, and how can I best
accomplish them? I wish to obtain the greatest possible amount of
industrious and careful practice in writing. The first thing evidently
is to save the wasted time." He accordingly made preparation for mending
the pens at a previous hour, so that all should be ready, at the
appointed time, to commence the work together. This could be done quite
as conveniently when the boys were engaged in studying, by requesting
them to put out their pens at an appointed and _previous_ time. He sat
at his table, and the pens of a whole bench were brought to him, and,
after being carefully mended, were returned, to be in readiness for the
writing hour. Thus the first difficulty, the loss of time, was obviated.

"I must make them _industrious_ while they write," was his next thought.
After thinking of a variety of methods, he determined to try the
following: he required all to begin together at the top of the page, and
write the same line, in a hand of the same size. They were all required
to begin together, he himself beginning at the same time, and writing
about as fast as he thought they ought to write in order to secure the
highest improvement. When he had finished his line, he ascertained how
many had preceded him and how many were behind. He requested the first
to write slower, and the others faster; and by this means, after a few
trials, he secured uniform, regular, systematic, and industrious
employment throughout the school. Probably there were, at first,
difficulties in the operation of the plan, which he had to devise ways
and means to surmount; but what I mean to present particularly to the
reader is, that he was _interested in his experiments_. While sitting in
his desk, giving his command to _begin_ line after line, and noticing
the unbroken silence, and attention, and interest which prevailed (for
each boy was interested to see how nearly with the master he could
finish his work), while presiding over such a scene he must have been
interested. He must have been pleased with the exercise of his almost
military command, and to witness how effectually order and industry, and
excited and pleased attention, had taken the place of listless idleness
and mutual dissatisfaction.

After a few days, he appointed one of the older and more judicious
scholars to give the word for beginning and ending the lines, and he sat
surveying the scene, or walking from desk to desk, noticing faults, and
considering what plans he could form for securing more and more fully
the end he had in view. He found that the great object of interest and
attention among the boys was to come out right, and that less pains were
taken with the formation of the letters than there ought to be to secure
the most rapid improvement.

But how shall he secure greater pains? By stern commands and threats? By
going from desk to desk, scolding one, rapping the knuckles of another,
and holding up to ridicule a third, making examples of such individuals
as may chance to attract his special attention? No; he has learned that
he is operating upon a little empire of mind, and that he is not to
endeavor to drive them as a man drives a herd, by mere peremptory
command or half angry blows. He must study the nature of the effect that
he is to produce, and of the materials upon which he is to work, and
adopt, after mature deliberation, a plan to accomplish his purpose
founded upon the principles which ought always to regulate the action
of mind upon mind, and adapted to produce the _intellectual effect_
which he wishes to accomplish.

In the case supposed, the teacher concluded to appeal to emulation.
While I describe the measure he adopted, let it be remembered that I am
now only approving of the resort to ingenuity and invention, and the
employment of moral and intellectual means for the accomplishment of his
purposes, and not of the measures themselves. I am not sure the plan I
am going to describe is a wise one; but I am sure that the teacher,
while trying it, must _have been interested in his intellectual
experiment._ His business, while pursued in such a way, could not have
been a mere dull and uninteresting routine.

He purchased, for three cents apiece, two long lead pencils--an article
of great value in the opinion of the boys of country schools--and he
offered them, as prizes, to the boy who would write most carefully; not
to the one who should write _best_, but to the one whose book should
exhibit most appearance of _effort_ and _care_ for a week. After
announcing his plan, he watched with strong interest its operation. He
walked round the room while the writing was in progress, to observe the
effect of his measure. He did not reprove those who were writing
carelessly; he simply noticed who and how many they were. He did not
commend those who were evidently making effort; he noticed who and how
many they were, that he might understand how far, and upon what sort of
minds, his experiment was successful, and where it failed. He was taking
a lesson in human nature--human nature as it exhibits itself in
boys--and was preparing to operate more and more powerfully by future
plans.

The lesson which he learned by the experiment was this, that one or two
prizes will not influence the majority of a large school. A few of the
boys seemed to think that the pencils were possibly within their reach,
and _they_ made vigorous efforts to secure them; but the rest wrote on
as before. Thinking it certain that they should be surpassed by the
others, they gave up the contest at once in despair.

The obvious remedy was to _multiply_ his prizes, so as to bring one of
them within the reach of all. He reflected, too, that the real prize, in
such a case, is not the value of the pencil, but the _honor of the
victory_; and as the honor of the victory might as well be coupled with
an object of less, as well as with one of greater value, the next week
he divided his two pencils into quarters, and offered to his pupils
eight prizes instead of two. He offered one to every five scholars, as
they sat on their benches, and every boy then saw that a reward would
certainly come within five of him. His chance, accordingly, instead of
being one in twenty, became one in five.

Now is it possible for a teacher, after having philosophized upon the
nature of the minds upon which he is operating, and surveyed the field,
and ingeniously formed a plan, which plan he hopes will, through his own
intrinsic power, produce certain effects--is it possible for him, when
he comes, for the first day, to witness its operations, to come without
feeling a strong interest in the result? It is not possible. After
having formed such a plan, and made such arrangements, he will look
forward almost with impatience to the next writing-hour. He wishes to
see whether he has estimated the mental capacities and tendencies of his
little community aright; and when the time comes, and he surveys the
scene, and observes the operation of his measure, and sees many more are
reached by it than were influenced before, he feels a strong
gratification, and it is a gratification which is founded upon the
noblest principles of our nature. He is tracing, on a most interesting
field, the operation of cause and effect. From being the mere drudge,
who drives, without intelligence or thought, a score or two of boys to
their daily tasks, he rises to the rank of an intellectual philosopher,
exploring the laws and successfully controlling the tendencies of mind.

It will be observed, too, that all the time this teacher was performing
these experiments, and watching with intense interest the results, his
pupils were going on undisturbed in their pursuits. The exercises in
writing were not interrupted or deranged. This is a point of fundamental
importance; for, if what I should say on the subject of exercising
ingenuity and contrivance in teaching should be the means, in any case,
of leading a teacher to break in upon the regular duties of his school,
and destroy the steady uniformity with which the great objects of such
an institution should be pursued, my remarks had better never have been
written. There may be variety in methods and plan, but, through all this
variety, the school, and every individual pupil of it, must go steadily
forward in the acquisition of that knowledge which is of greatest
importance in the business of future life. In other words, the
variations and changes admitted by the teacher ought to be mainly
confined to the modes of accomplishing those permanent objects to which
all the exercises and arrangements of the school ought steadily to aim.
More on this subject, however, in another chapter.

I will mention one other circumstance, which will help to explain the
difference in interest and pleasure with which teachers engage in their
work. I mean the different views they take _of the offenses of their
pupils_. One class of teachers seem never to make it a part of their
calculation that their pupils will do wrong, and when, any misconduct
occurs they are discontented and irritated, and look and act as if some
unexpected occurrence had broken in upon their plans. Others understand
and consider all this beforehand. They seem to think a little, before
they go into their school, what sort of beings boys and girls are, and
any ordinary case of youthful delinquency or dullness does not surprise
them. I do not mean that they treat such cases with indifference or
neglect, but that they _expect_ them, and _are prepared for them_. Such
a teacher knows that boys and girls are the _materials_ he has to work
upon, and he takes care to make himself acquainted with these materials,
_just as they are_. The other class, however, do not seem to know at all
what sort of beings they have to deal with, or, if they know, do not
_consider_. They expect from them what is not to be obtained, and then
are disappointed and vexed at the failure. It is as if a carpenter
should attempt to support an entablature by pillars of wood too small
and weak for the weight, and then go on, from week to week, suffering
anxiety and irritation as he sees them swelling and splitting under the
burden, and finding fault _with the wood_ instead of taking it to
himself; or as if a plowman were to attempt to work a hard and stony
piece of ground with a poor team and a small plow, and then, when
overcome by the difficulties of the task, should vent his vexation and
anger in laying the blame on the ground instead of on the inadequate and
insufficient instrumentality which he had provided for subduing it.

[Illustration]

It is, of course, one essential part of a man's duty, in engaging in any
undertaking, whether it will lead him to act upon matter or upon mind,
to become first well acquainted with the circumstances of the case, the
materials he is to act upon, and the means which he may reasonably
expect to have at his command. If he underrates his difficulties, or
overrates the power of his means of overcoming them, it is his
mistake--a mistake for which _he_ is fully responsible. Whatever may be
the nature of the effect which he aims at accomplishing, he ought fully
to understand it, and to appreciate justly the difficulties which lie in
the way.

Teachers, however, very often overlook this. A man comes home from his
school at night perplexed and irritated by the petty misconduct which he
has witnessed, and been trying to check. He does not, however, look
forward and endeavor to prevent the occasions of such misconduct,
adapting his measures to the nature of the material upon which he has to
operate, but he stands, like the carpenter at his columns, making
himself miserable in looking at it after it occurs, and wondering what
to do.

"Sir," we might say to him, "what is the matter?"

"Why, I have such boys I can do nothing with them. Were it not for
_their misconduct_, I might have a very good school."

"Were it not for their misconduct? Why, is there any peculiar depravity
in them which you could not have foreseen?"

"No; I suppose they are pretty much like all other boys," he replies,
despairingly; "they are all hair-brained and unmanageable. The plans I
have formed for my school would be excellent if my boys would only
behave properly."

"Excellent plans," might we not reply, "and yet not adapted to the
materials upon which they are to operate! No. It is your business to
know what sort of beings boys are, and to make your calculations
accordingly."

Two teachers may therefore manage their schools in totally different
ways, so that one of them may necessarily find the business a dull,
mechanical routine, except as it is occasionally varied by perplexity
and irritation, and the other a prosperous and happy employment. The one
goes on mechanically the same, and depends for his power on violence, or
on threats and demonstrations of violence. The other brings all his
ingenuity and enterprise into the field to accomplish a steady purpose
by means ever varying, and depends for his power on his knowledge of
human nature, and on the adroit adaptation of plans to her fixed and
uniform tendencies.

I am very sorry, however, to be obliged to say that probably the latter
class of teachers are decidedly in the minority. To practice the art in
such a way as to make it an agreeable employment is difficult, and it
requires much knowledge of human nature, much attention and skill. And,
after all, there are some circumstances necessarily attending the work
which constitute a heavy drawback on the pleasures which it might
otherwise afford. The almost universal impression that the business of
teaching is attended with peculiar trials and difficulties proves this.

There must be some cause for an impression so general. It is not right
to call it a prejudice, for, although a single individual may conceive a
prejudice, whole communities very seldom do, unless in some case which
is presented at once to the whole, so that, looking at it through a
common medium, all judge wrong together. But the general opinion in
regard to teaching is composed of a vast number of _separate_ and
_independent_ judgments, and there must be some good ground for the
universal result.

It is best, therefore, if there are any real and peculiar sources of
trial and difficulty in this pursuit, that they should be distinctly
known and acknowledged at the outset. Count the cost before going to
war. It is even better policy to overrate than to underrate it. Let us
see, then, what the real difficulties of teaching are.

It is not, however, as is generally supposed, _the confinement._ A
teacher is confined, it is true, but not more than men of other
professions and employments; not more than a merchant, and probably not
as much. A physician is confined in a different way, but more closely
than a teacher: he can never leave home: he knows generally no
vacation, and nothing but accidental rest.

The lawyer is confined as much. It is true there are not throughout the
year exact hours which he must keep, but, considering the imperious
demands of his business, his personal liberty is probably restrained as
much by it as that of the teacher. So with all the other professions.
Although the nature of the confinement may vary, it amounts to about the
same in all. On the other hand, the teacher enjoys, in reference to this
subject of confinement, an advantage which scarcely any other class of
men does or can enjoy. I mean vacations. A man in any other business may
_force_ himself away from it for a time, but the cares and anxieties of
his business will follow him wherever he goes. It seems to be reserved
for the teacher to enjoy alone the periodical luxury of a _real and
entire release from business and care_. On the whole, as to confinement,
it seems to me that the teacher has little ground of complaint.

There are, however, some real and serious difficulties which always
have, and, it is to be feared, always will, cluster around this
employment; and which must, for a long time, at least, lead most men to
desire some other employment for the business of life. There may perhaps
be some who, by their peculiar skill, can overcome or avoid them, and
perhaps the science of teaching may, at some future day, be so far
improved that all may avoid them. As I describe them, however, now, most
of the teachers into whose hands this treatise may fall will probably
find that their own experience corresponds, in this respect, with mine.

1. The first great difficulty which the teacher feels is a sort of
_moral responsibility for the conduct of others_. If his pupils do
wrong, he feels almost personal responsibility for it. As he walks out
some afternoon, wearied with his labors, and endeavoring to forget, for
a little time, all his cares, he comes upon a group of boys in rude and
noisy quarrels, or engaged in mischief of some sort, and his heart
sinks within him. It is hard enough for any one to witness their bad
conduct with a spirit unruffled and undisturbed, but for their teacher
it is perhaps impossible. He feels _responsible_; in fact, he is
responsible. If his scholars are disorderly, or negligent, or idle, or
quarrelsome, he feels _condemned himself_ almost as if he were himself
the actual transgressor.

This difficulty is, in a great degree, peculiar to a teacher. A
physician is called upon to prescribe for a patient; he examines the
case, and writes his prescription. When this is done his duty is ended;
and whether the patient obeys the prescription and lives, or neglects it
and dies, the physician feels exonerated from all responsibility. He
may, and in some cases does, feel _anxious concern_, and may regret the
infatuation by which, in some unhappy case, a valuable life may be
hazarded or destroyed. But he feels no _moral responsibility_ for
another's guilt.

It is so with all the other employments in life. They do, indeed, often
bring men into collision with other men. But, though sometimes vexed and
irritated by the conduct of a neighbor, a client, or a patient, they
feel not half the bitterness of the solicitude and anxiety which come to
the teacher through the criminality of his pupil. In ordinary cases he
not only feels responsible for efforts, but for their results; and when,
notwithstanding all his efforts, his pupils will do wrong, his spirit
sinks with an intensity of anxious despondency which none but a teacher
can understand.

This feeling of something very like _moral accountability for the guilt
of other persons_ is a continual burden. The teacher in the presence of
the pupil never is free from it. It links him to them by a bond which
perhaps he ought not to sunder, and which he can not sunder if he would.
And sometimes, when those committed to his charge are idle, or
faithless, or unprincipled, it wears away his spirits and his health
together. I think there is nothing analogous to this moral connection
between teacher and pupil unless it be in the case of a parent and
child. And here, on account of the comparative smallness of the number
under the parent's care, the evil is so much diminished that it is
easily borne.

2. The second great difficulty of the teacher's employments is _the
immense multiplicity of the objects of his attention and care_ during
the time he is employed in his business. His scholars are individuals,
and notwithstanding all that the most systematic can do in the way of
classification, they must be attended to in a great measure as
individuals. A merchant keeps his commodities together, and looks upon a
cargo composed of ten thousand articles, and worth a hundred thousand
dollars, as one; he speaks of it as one; and there is, in many cases, no
more perplexity in planning its destination than if it were a single box
of raisins. A lawyer may have a great many important cases, but he has
only one at a time; that is, he _attends_ to but one at a time. The one
may be intricate, involving many facts, and requiring to be examined in
many aspects and relations. But he looks at but few of these facts and
regards but few of these relations at a time. The points which demand
his attention come one after another in regular succession. His mind may
thus be kept calm. He avoids confusion and perplexity. But no skill or
classification will turn the poor teacher's hundred scholars into one,
or enable him, except to a very limited extent, and for a very limited
purpose, to regard them as one. He has a distinct and, in many respects,
a different work to do for every one of the crowd before him.
Difficulties must be explained in detail, questions must be answered one
by one, and each scholar's own conduct must be considered by itself. His
work is thus made up of a thousand minute particulars, which are all
crowding upon his attention at once, and which he can not group
together, or combine, or simplify. He must, by some means or other,
attend to them in all their distracting individuality. And, in a large
and complicated school, the endless multiplicity and variety of objects
of attention and care impose a task under which few intellects can long
stand.

I have said that this endless multiplicity and variety can not be
reduced and simplified by classification. I mean, of course, that this
can be done only to a very limited extent compared with what may be
effected in the other pursuits of mankind. Were it not for the art of
classification and system, no school could have more than ten scholars,
as I intend hereafter to show. The great reliance of the teacher is upon
this art, to reduce to some tolerable order what would otherwise be the
inextricable confusion of his business. He _must be systematic_. He must
classify and arrange; but, after he has done all that he can, he must
still expect that his daily business will continue to consist of a vast
multitude of minute particulars, from one to another of which the mind
must turn with a rapidity which few of the other employments of life
ever demand.

These are the essential sources of difficulty with which the teacher has
to contend; but, as I shall endeavor to show in succeeding chapters,
though they can not be entirely removed, they can be so far mitigated by
the appropriate means as to render the employment a happy one. I have
thought it best, however, as this work will doubtless be read by many
who, when they read it, are yet to begin their labors, to describe
frankly and fully to them the difficulties which beset the path they are
about to enter. "The wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way." It
is often wisdom to understand it beforehand.




CHAPTER II.

GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS.


The distraction and perplexity of the teacher's life are, as was
explained in the last chapter, almost proverbial. There are other
pressing and exhausting pursuits, which wear away the spirit by the
ceaseless care which they impose, or perplex and bewilder the intellect
by the multiplicity and intricacy of their details; but the business of
teaching, by a pre-eminence not very enviable, stands, almost by common
consent, at the head of the catalogue.

I have already alluded to this subject in the preceding chapter, and
probably the majority of actual teachers will admit the truth of the
view there presented. Some will, however, doubtless say that they do not
find the business of teaching so perplexing and exhausting an
employment. They take things calmly. They do one thing at a time, and
that without useless solicitude and anxiety. So that teaching, with
them, though it has, indeed, its solicitudes and cares, as every other
responsible employment must necessarily have, is, after all, a calm and
quiet pursuit, which they follow from month to month, and from year to
year, without any extraordinary agitations, or any unusual burdens of
anxiety and care.

There are, indeed, such cases, but they are exceptions, and
unquestionably a considerable majority, especially of those who are
beginners in the work, find it such as I have described. I think it need
not be so, or, rather, I think the evil may be avoided to _a very great
degree_. In this chapter I shall endeavor to show how order may be
produced out of that almost inextricable mass of confusion into which so
many teachers, on commencing their labors, find themselves plunged.

The objects, then, to be aimed at in the general arrangements of schools
are twofold:

  1. That the teacher may be left uninterrupted, to attend to one thing
  at a time.

  2. That the individual scholars may have constant employment, and such
  an amount and such kinds of study as shall be suited to the
  circumstances and capacities of each.

I shall examine each in their order.

  1. The following are the principal things which, in a vast number of
  schools, are all the time pressing upon the teacher; or, rather, they
  are the things which must every where press upon the teacher, except so
  far as, by the skill of his arrangements, he contrives to remove them.

  1. Giving leave to whisper or to leave seats.
  2. Distributing and changing pens.
  3. Answering questions in regard to studies.
  4. Hearing recitations.
  5. Watching the behavior of the scholars.
  6. Administering reproof and punishment for offenses as they occur.

A pretty large number of objects of attention and care, one would say,
to be pressing upon the mind of the teacher at one and the same
time--and _all the time_ too! Hundreds and hundreds of teachers in every
part of our country, there is no doubt, have all these crowding upon
them from morning to night, with no cessation, except perhaps some
accidental and momentary respite. During the winter months, while the
principal common schools in our country are in operation, it is sad to
reflect how many teachers come home every evening with bewildered and
aching heads, having been vainly trying all the day to do six things at
a time, while He who made the human mind has determined that it shall do
but one. How many become discouraged and disheartened by what they
consider the unavoidable trials of a teacher's life, and give up in
despair, just because their faculties will not sustain a six-fold task.
There are multitudes who, in early life, attempted teaching, and, after
having been worried, almost to distraction, by the simultaneous pressure
of these multifarious cares, gave up the employment in disgust, and now
unceasingly wonder how any body can like teaching. I know multitudes of
persons to whom the above description will exactly apply.

I once heard a teacher who had been very successful, even in large
schools, say that he could hear two classes recite, mend pens, and watch
his school all at the same time, and that without any distraction of
mind or any unusual fatigue. Of course the recitations in such a case
must be from memory. There are very few minds, however, which can thus
perform triple or quadruple work, and probably none which can safely be
tasked so severely. For my part, I can do but one thing at a time; and I
have no question that the true policy for all is to learn not _to do
every thing at once_, but so to classify and arrange their work that
_they shall have but one thing at once to do_. Instead of vainly
attempting to attend simultaneously to a dozen things, they should so
plan their work that only _one_ will demand attention.

Let us, then, examine the various particulars above mentioned in
succession, and see how each can be disposed of, so as not to be a
constant source of interruption and derangement.

1. _Whispering_ and _leaving seats_. In regard to this subject there
are very different methods now in practice in different schools. In
some, especially in very small schools, the teacher allows the pupils to
act according to their own discretion. They whisper and leave their
seats whenever they think it necessary. This plan may possibly be
admissible in a very small school, that is, in one of ten or twelve
pupils. I am convinced, however, that it is a very bad plan even here.
No vigilant watch which it is possible for any teacher to exert will
prevent a vast amount of mere talk entirely foreign to the business of
the school. I tried this plan very thoroughly, with high ideas of the
dependence which might be placed upon conscience and a sense of duty, if
these principles are properly brought out to action in an effort to
sustain the system. I was told by distinguished teachers that it would
not be found to answer. But predictions of failure in such cases only
prompt to greater exertions, and I persevered. But I was forced at last
to give up the point, and adopt another plan. My pupils would make
resolutions enough; they understood their duty well enough. They were
allowed to leave their seats and whisper to their companions whenever,
_in their honest judgment, it was necessary for the prosecution of their
studies_. I knew that it sometimes would be necessary, and I was
desirous to adopt this plan to save myself the constant interruption of
hearing and replying to requests. But it would not do. Whenever, from
time to time, I called them to account, I found that a large majority,
according to their own confession, were in the habit of holding daily
and deliberate communication with each other on subjects entirely
foreign to the business of the school. A more experienced teacher would
have predicted this result; but I had very high ideas of the power of
cultivated conscience, and, in fact, still have. But then, like most
other persons who become possessed of a good idea, I could not be
satisfied without carrying it to an extreme.

Still it is necessary, in ordinary schools, to give pupils sometimes
the opportunity to whisper and leave seats.[1] Cases occur where this is
unavoidable. It can not, therefore, be forbidden altogether. How, then,
you will ask, can the teacher regulate this practice, so as to prevent
the evils which will otherwise flow from it, without being continually
interrupted by the request for permission?

[Footnote 1: There are some large and peculiarly-organized schools in
cities and large towns to which this remark may perhaps not apply.]

By a very simple method. _Appropriate particular times at which all this
business is to be done_, and _forbid it altogether_ at every other time.
It is well, on other accounts, to give the pupils of a school a little
respite, at least every hour; and if this is done, an intermission of
study for two minutes each time will be sufficient. During this time
_general_ permission should be given for the pupils to speak to each
other, or to leave their seats, provided they do nothing at such a time
to disturb the studies of others. This plan I have myself very
thoroughly tested, and no arrangement which I ever made operated for so
long a time so uninterruptedly and so entirely to my satisfaction as
this. It of course will require some little time, and no little
firmness, to establish the new order of things where a school has been
accustomed to another course; but where this is once done, I know no one
plan so simple and so easily put into execution which will do so much
toward relieving the teacher of the distraction and perplexity of his
pursuits.

In making the change, however, it is of fundamental importance that the
pupils should themselves be interested in it. Their co-operation, or,
rather, the co-operation of the majority, which it is very easy to
obtain, is absolutely essential to success. I say this is very easily
obtained. Let us suppose that some teacher, who has been accustomed to
require his pupils to ask and obtain permission every time they wish to
speak to a companion, is induced by these remarks to introduce this
plan. He says, accordingly, to his school,

"You know that you are now accustomed to ask me whenever you wish to
obtain permission to whisper to a companion or to leave your seats; now
I have been thinking of a plan which will be better for both you and me.
By our present plan you are sometimes obliged to wait before I can
attend to your request. Sometimes I think it is unnecessary, and deny
you, when perhaps I was mistaken, and it was really necessary. At other
times, I think it very probable that when it is quite desirable for you
to leave your seat you do not ask, because you think you may not obtain
permission, and you do not wish to ask and be refused. Do you, or not,
experience these inconveniences from our present plans?"

The pupils would undoubtedly answer in the affirmative.

"I myself experience great inconvenience too. I am very frequently
interrupted when busily engaged, and it also occupies a great portion of
my time and attention to consider and answer your requests for
permission to speak to one another and to leave your seats. It requires
as much mental effort to consider and decide whether I ought to allow a
pupil to leave his seat, as it would to determine a much more important
question; therefore I do not like our present plan, and I have another
to propose."

The pupils are now all attention to know what the new plan is. It will
always be of great advantage to the school for the teacher to propose
his new plans from time to time to his pupils in such a way as this. It
interests them in the improvement of the school, exercises their
judgment, establishes a common feeling between teacher and pupil, and in
many other ways assists very much in promoting the welfare of the
school.

"My plan," continues the teacher, "is this: to allow you all, besides
the recess, a short time, two or three minutes perhaps, every hour" (or
every half hour, according to the character of the school, the age of
the pupils, or other circumstances, to be judged of by the teacher),
"during which you may all whisper or leave your seats _without_ asking
permission."

Instead of deciding the question of the _frequency_ of this general
permission, the teacher may, if he pleases, leave it to the pupils to
decide. It is often useful to leave the decision of such a question to
them. On this subject, however, I shall speak in another place. It is
only necessary here to say that _this_ point may be safely left to them,
since the time is so small which is to be thus appropriated. Even if
they vote to have the general permission to whisper every half hour, it
will make but eight minutes in the forenoon. There being six half hours
in the forenoon, and one of them ending at the close of school, and
another at the recess, only _four_ of these _rests_, as a military man
would call them, would be necessary; and four, of two minutes each,
would make eight minutes. If the teacher thinks that evil would result
from the interruption of the studies so often, he may offer the pupils
_three_ minutes rest every _hour_ instead of _two_ minutes every _half
hour_, and let them take their choice; or he may decide the case
altogether himself.

Such a change, from _particular permission on individual requests_ to
_general permission_ at _stated times_, would unquestionably be popular
in every school, if the teacher managed the business properly. And by
presenting it as an object of common interest, an arrangement proposed
for the common convenience of teacher and pupils, the latter may be much
interested in carrying the plan into effect. We must not rely, however,
entirely upon their _interest in it_. All that we can expect from such
an effort to interest them, as I have described and recommended, is to
get a majority on our side, so that we may have only a small minority to
deal with by other measures. Still, _we must calculate on having this
minority, and form our plans accordingly_, or we shall be greatly
disappointed. I shall, however, in another place, speak of this
principle of interesting the pupils in our plans for the purpose of
securing a majority in our favor, and explain the methods by which the
minority is then to be governed. I only mean here to say that, by such
means, the teacher may easily interest a large proportion of the
scholars in carrying his plans into effect, and that he must expect to
be prepared with other measures for those who will not be governed by
these.

You can not reasonably expect, however, that, immediately after having
explained your plan, it will at once go into full and complete
operation. Even those who are firmly determined to keep the rule will,
from inadvertence, for a day or two, make communication with each other.
They must be _trained_, not by threatening and punishment, but by your
good-humored assistance, to their new duties. When I first adopted this
plan in my school, something like the following proceedings took place.

"Do you suppose that you will perfectly keep this rule from this time?"

"No, sir," was the answer.

"I suppose you will not. Some, I am afraid, may not really be determined
to keep it, and others will forget. Now I wish that every one of you
would keep an exact account to-day of all the instances in which you
speak to another person, or leave your seat, out of the regular times,
and be prepared to report them at the close of the school. Of course,
there will be no punishment; but it will very much assist you to watch
yourselves, if you expect to make a report at the end of the forenoon.
Do you like this plan?"

"Yes, sir," was the answer; and all seemed to enter into it with spirit.

In order to mark more definitely the times for communication, I wrote,
in large letters, on a piece of pasteboard, "STUDY HOURS," and making a
hole over the centre of it, I hung it upon a nail over my desk. At the
close of each half hour a little bell was to be struck, and this card
was to be taken down. When it was up, they were, on no occasion whatever
(except some such extraordinary occurrence as sickness, or my sending
one of them on a message to another, or something clearly out of the
common course) to speak to each other; but were to wait, whatever they
wanted, until the _Study Card_, as they called it, was taken down.

"Suppose now," said I, "that a young lady has come into school, and has
accidentally left her book in the entry--the book from which she is to
study during the first half hour of the school. She sits near the door,
and she might, in a moment, slip out and obtain it. If she does not, she
must spend the half hour in idleness, and be unprepared in her lesson.
What is it her duty to do?"

"To go," "Not to go," answered the scholars, simultaneously.

"It would be her duty _not_ to go; but I suppose it will be very
difficult for me to convince you of it.

"The reason is this," I continued; "if the one case I have supposed were
the _only_ one which would be likely to occur, it would undoubtedly be
better for her to go; but if it is understood that in such cases the
rule may be dispensed with, that understanding will tend very much to
cause such cases to occur. Scholars will differ in regard to the degree
of inconvenience which they must submit to rather than break the rule.
They will gradually do it on slighter and slighter occasions, until at
last the rule will be disregarded entirely. We must therefore draw a
_precise line_, and individuals must submit to a little inconvenience
sometimes to promote the general good."

At the close of the day I requested all in the school to rise. While
they were standing, I called them to account in the following manner:

"Now it is very probable that some have, from inadvertence or from
design, omitted to keep an account of the number of transgressions of
the rule which they have committed during the day; others, perhaps, do
not wish to make a report of themselves. Now as this is a common and
voluntary effort, I wish to have none render assistance who do not, of
their own accord, desire to do so. All those, therefore, who are not
able to make a report, from not having been correct in keeping it, and
all those who are unwilling to report themselves, may sit."

A very small number hesitatingly took their seats.

"I am afraid that all do not sit who really wish not to report
themselves. Now I am honest in saying I wish you to do just as you
please. If a great majority of the school really wish to assist me in
accomplishing the object, why, of course, I am glad; still, I shall not
call upon any for such assistance unless it is freely and voluntarily
rendered."

One or two more took their seats while these things were saying. Among
such there would generally be some who would refuse to have any thing to
do with the measure simply from a desire to thwart and impede the plans
of the teacher. If so, it is best to take no notice of them. If the
teacher can contrive to obtain a great majority upon his side, so as to
let them see that any opposition which they can raise is of no
consequence and is not even noticed, they will soon be ashamed of it.

The reports, then, of those who remained standing were called for;
first, those who had whispered only once were requested to sit, then
those who had whispered more than once and less than five times, and so
on, until at last all were down. In such a case the pupils might, if
thought expedient, again be requested to rise for the purpose of asking
some other questions with reference to ascertaining whether they had
spoken most in the former or latter part of the forenoon. The number who
had spoken inadvertently, and the number who had done it by design,
might be ascertained. These inquiries accustom the pupils to render
honest and faithful accounts themselves. They become, by such means,
familiarized to the practice, and by means of it the teacher can many
times receive most important assistance.

In all this, however, the teacher should speak in a pleasant tone, and
maintain a pleasant and cheerful air. The acknowledgments should be
considered by the pupils not as confessions of guilt for which they are
to be rebuked or punished, but as voluntary and free reports of the
result of _an experiment_ in which all were interested.

Some will have been dishonest in their reports: to diminish the number
of these, the teacher may say, after the report is concluded,

"We will drop the subject here to-day. To-morrow we will make another
effort, when we shall be more successful. I have taken your reports as
you have offered them without any inquiry, because I had no doubt that a
great majority of this school would be honest at all hazards. They would
not, I am confident, make a false report even if, by a true one, they
were to bring upon themselves punishment; so that I think I may have
confidence that nearly all these reports have been faithful. Still it is
very probable that among so large a number some may have made a report
which, they are now aware, was not perfectly fair and honest. I do not
wish to know who they are; if there are any such cases, I only wish to
say to the rest how much pleasanter it is for you that you have been
honest and open. The business is now all ended; you have done your duty;
and, though you reported a little larger number than you would if you
had been disposed to conceal your faults, yet you go away from school
with a quiet conscience. On the other hand, how miserable must any boy
feel, if he has any nobleness of mind whatever, to go away from school
to-day thinking that he has not been honest; that he has been trying to
conceal his faults, and thus to obtain a credit which he did not justly
deserve. Always be honest, let the consequence be what it may."

The reader will understand that the object of such measures is simply
_to secure as large a majority as possible_ to make _voluntary_ efforts
to observe the rule. I do not expect that by such measures _universal_
obedience can be exacted. The teacher must follow up the plan after a
few days by other measures for those pupils who will not yield to such
inducements as these. Upon this subject, however, I shall speak more
particularly at a future time.

In my own school it required two or three weeks to exclude whispering
and communication by signs. The period necessary to effect the
revolution will be longer or shorter, according to the circumstances of
the school and the dexterity of the teacher; and, after all, the teacher
must not hope _entirely_ to exclude it. Approximation to excellence is
all that we can expect; for unprincipled and deceiving characters will
perhaps always be found, and no system whatever can prevent their
existence. Proper treatment may indeed be the means of their
reformation, but before this process has arrived at a successful result,
others similar in character will have entered the school, so that the
teacher can never expect perfection in the operation of any of his
plans.

I found so much relief from the change which this plan introduced, that
I soon took measures for rendering it permanent; and though I am not
much in favor of efforts to bring all teachers and all schools to the
same plans, this principle of _whispering at limited and prescribed
times alone_ seems to me well suited to universal adoption.

The following simple apparatus has been used in several schools where
this principle has been adopted. A drawing and description of it is
inserted here, as by this means some teachers, who may like to try the
course here recommended, may be saved the time and trouble of contriving
something of the kind themselves.

The figure _a a a a_ on the next page is a board about 18 inches by 12,
to which the other parts of the apparatus are to be attached, and which
is to be secured to the wall at the height of about 8 feet, and _b c d
c_ is a plate of tin or brass, 8 inches by 12, of the form represented
in the drawing. At _c c_, the lower extremities of the parts at the
sides, the metal is bent round, so as to clasp a wire which runs from
_c_ to _c_, the ends of which wire are bent at right angles, and run
into the board. The plate will consequently turn on this axis as on a
hinge. At the top of the plate, _d_, a small projection of the tin turns
inward, and to this one end of the cord, _m m_, is attached. This cord
passes back from _d_ to a small pulley at the upper part of the board,
and at the lower end of it a tassel, loaded so as to be an exact
counterpoise to the card, is attached. By raising the tassel, the plate
will of course fall over forward till it is stopped by the part _b_
striking the board, when it will be in a horizontal position. On the
other hand, by pulling down the tassel, the plate will be raised and
drawn upward against the board, so as to present its convex surface,
with the words STUDY HOURS upon it, distinctly to the school. In the
drawing it is represented in an inclined position, being not quite drawn
up, that the parts might more easily be seen. At _d_ there is a small
projection of the tin upward, which touches the clapper of the bell
suspended above every time the plate passes up or down, and thus gives
notice of its motions.

[Illustration]

Of course the construction may be varied very much, and it may be more
or less expensive, according to the wishes of the teacher. In the first
apparatus of this kind which I used, the plate was simply a card of
pasteboard, from which the machine took its name. This was cut out with
a penknife, and, after being covered with marble-paper, a strip of white
paper was pasted along the middle with the inscription upon it. The wire
_c c_, and a similar one at the top of the plate, were passed through a
perforation in the pasteboard, and then passed into the board. Instead
of a pulley, the cord, which was a piece of twine, was passed through a
little staple made of wire and driven into the board. The whole was made
in one or two recesses in school, with such tools and materials as I
could then command. The bell was a common table bell, with a wire
passing through the handle. The whole was attached to such a piece of
pine board as I could get on the occasion. This coarse contrivance was,
for more than a year, the grand regulator of all the movements of the
school.

I afterward caused one to be made in a better manner. The plate was of
tin, gilded, the border and the letters of the inscription being black.
A parlor bell-rope was carried over a brass pulley, and then passed
downward in a groove made in the mahogany board to which the card was
attached.

A little reflection will, however, show the teacher that the form and
construction of the apparatus for marking the times of study and of rest
may be greatly varied. The chief point is simply to secure the
_principle_ of whispering at definite and limited times, and at those
alone. If such an arrangement is adopted, and carried faithfully into
effect, it will be found to relieve the teacher of more than half of the
confusion and perplexity which would otherwise be his hourly lot. I have
detailed thus particularly the method to be pursued in carrying this
principle into effect, because I am convinced of its importance, and the
incalculable assistance which such an arrangement will afford to the
teacher in all his plans. Of course, I would not be understood to recommend
its adoption in those cases where teachers, from their own experience,
have devised and adopted _other_ plans which accomplish as effectually
the same purpose. All that I mean is to insist upon the absolute
necessity of _some_ plan, to remove this very common source of
interruption and confusion, and I recommend this mode where a better is
not known.

2. The second of the sources of interruption, as I have enumerated them,
is the distribution of pens and of stationery. This business ought, if
possible, to have a specific time assigned to it. Scholars are, in
general, far too particular in regard to their pens. The teacher ought
to explain to them that, in the transaction of the ordinary business of
life, they can not always have exactly such a pen as they would like.
They must learn to write with various kinds of pens, and when furnished
with one that the teacher himself would consider suitable to write a
letter to a friend with, he must be content. They should understand that
the _form_ of the letters is what is important in learning to write, not
the smoothness and clearness of the hair lines; and that though writing
looks better when executed with a perfect pen, a person may _learn_ to
write nearly as well with one which is not absolutely perfect. So
certain is this, though often overlooked, that a person would perhaps
learn faster with chalk, upon a black board, than with the best
goose-quill ever sharpened.

I do not make these remarks to show that it is of no consequence whether
scholars have good or bad pens, but only that this subject deserves very
much less of the time and attention of the teacher than it usually
receives. When the scholars are allowed, as they very often are, to come
when they please to change their pens, breaking in upon any
business--interrupting any classes--perplexing and embarrassing the
teacher, however he may be employed, there is a very serious obstruction
to the progress of the scholars, which is by no means repaid by the
improvement in this branch.

To guard against these evils, a regular and well-considered system
should be adopted for the distribution of pens and stationary, and when
adopted it should be strictly and steadily adhered to.

3. Answering questions about studies. A teacher who does not adopt some
system in regard to this subject will be always at the mercy of his
scholars. One boy will want to know how to parse a word, another where
the lesson is, another to have a sum explained, and a fourth will wish
to show his work to see if it is right. The teacher does not like to
discourage such inquiries. Each one, as it comes up, seems necessary;
each one, too, is answered in a moment; but the endless number and the
continual repetition of them consume his time and exhaust his patience.

There is another view of the subject which ought to be taken. Perhaps it
would not be far from the truth to estimate the average number of
scholars in the schools in our country at fifty. At any rate, this will
be near enough for our present purpose. There are three hours in each
session, according to the usual arrangement, making one hundred and
eighty minutes, which, divided among fifty, give about three minutes and
a half to each individual. If the reader has, in his own school, a
greater or a less number, he can easily correct the above calculation,
so as to adapt it to his own case, and ascertain the portion which may
justly be appropriated to each pupil. It will probably vary from two to
four minutes. Now a period of four minutes slips away very fast while a
man is looking over perplexing figures on a slate, and if he exceeds
that time at all in individual attention to any one scholar, he is doing
injustice to his other pupils. I do not mean that a man is to confine
himself rigidly to the principle suggested by this calculation of
cautiously appropriating no more time to any one of his pupils than such
a calculation would assign to each, but simply that this is a point
which should be kept in view, and should have a very strong influence in
deciding how far it is right to devote attention exclusively to
individuals. It seems to me that it shows very clearly that one ought
to teach his pupils, as much as possible, _in masses_, and as little as
possible by private attention to individual cases.

The following directions will help the teacher to carry these principles
into effect. When you assign a lesson, glance over it yourself, and
consider what difficulties are likely to arise. You know the progress
which your pupils have made, and can easily anticipate their
difficulties. Tell them all together, in the class, what their
difficulties will be, and how they may surmount them. Give them
directions how they are to act in the emergencies which will be likely
to occur. This simple step will remove a vast number of the questions
which would otherwise become occasions for interrupting you. With regard
to other difficulties, which can not be foreseen and guarded against,
direct the pupils to bring them to the class at the next recitation.
Half a dozen of the class might, and very probably would, meet with the
same difficulty. If they bring this difficulty to you one by one, you
have to explain it over and over again, whereas, when it is brought to
the class, one explanation answers for all.

As to all questions about the lesson--where it is, what it is, and how
long it is--never answer them. Require each pupil to remember for
himself, and if he was absent when the lesson was assigned, let him ask
his class-mate in a rest.

You _may_ refuse to give particular individuals the private assistance
they ask for in such a way as to discourage and irritate them, but this
is by no means necessary. It can be done in such a manner that the pupil
will see the propriety of it, and acquiesce pleasantly in it.

A child comes to you, for example, and says,

"Will you tell me, sir, where the next lesson is?"

"Were you not in the class at the time?"

"Yes, sir; but I have forgotten."

"Well, I have forgotten too. I have a great many classes to hear, and,
of course, great many lessons to assign, and I never remember them. It
is not necessary for me to remember."

"May I speak to one of the class to ask about it?"

"You can not speak, you know, till the Study Card is down; you may
then."

"But I want to get my lesson now."

"I don't know what you will do, then. I am sorry you don't remember.

"Besides," continues the teacher, looking pleasantly, however, while he
says it, "if I knew, I think I ought not to tell you."

"Why, sir?"

"Because, you know, I have said I wish the scholars to remember where
the lessons are, and not come to me. You know it would be very unwise
for me, after assigning a lesson once for all in the class, to spend my
time here at my desk in assigning it over again to each individual one
by one. Now if I should tell _you_ where the lesson is now, I should
have to tell others, and thus should adopt a practice which I have
condemned."

Take another case. You assign to a class of little girls a subject of
composition, requesting them to copy their writing upon a sheet of
paper, leaving a margin an inch wide at the top, and one of half an inch
at the sides and bottom. The class take their seats, and, after a short
time, one of them comes to you, saying she does not know how long an
inch is.

"Don't you know any thing about it?"

"No, sir, not much."

"Should you think _that_ is more or less than an inch?" (pointing to a
space on a piece of paper much too large).

"More."

"Then you know something about it. Now I did not tell you to make the
margins _exactly_ an inch and half an inch, but only as near as you
could judge?"

"Would _that_ be about right?" asks the girl, showing a distance.

"I must not tell you, because, you know, I never in such cases help
individuals; if that is as near as you can get it, you may make it so."

It may be well, after assigning a lesson to a class, to say that all
those who do not distinctly understand what they have to do may remain
after the class have taken their seats, and ask: the task may then be
distinctly assigned again, and the difficulties, so far as they can be
foreseen, explained.

By such means these sources of interruption and difficulty may, like the
others, be almost entirely removed. Perhaps not altogether, for many
cases may occur where the teacher may choose to give a particular class
permission to come to him for help. Such permission, however, ought
never to be given unless it is absolutely necessary, and should never be
allowed to be taken unless it is distinctly given.

4. Hearing recitations. I am aware that many attempt to do something
else at the same time that they are hearing a recitation, and there may
perhaps be some individuals who can succeed in this. If the exercise to
which the teacher is attending consists merely in listening to the
reciting word for word some passage committed to memory, it can be done.
I hope, however, to show in a future chapter that there are other and
far higher objects which every teacher ought to have in view in his
recitations, and he who understands these objects, and aims at
accomplishing them--who endeavors to _instruct_ his class, to enlarge
and elevate their ideas, to awaken a deep and paramount interest in the
subject which they are examining, will find that his time must be his
own, and his attention uninterrupted while he is presiding at a class.
All the other exercises and arrangements of the school are, in fact,
preparatory and subsidiary to this. Here, that is, in the classes, the
real business of teaching is to be done. Here the teacher comes in
contact with his scholars mind with mind, and here, consequently, he
must be uninterrupted and undisturbed. I shall speak more particularly
on this subject hereafter under the head of instruction; all I wish to
secure in this place is that the teacher should make such arrangements
that he can devote his exclusive attention to his classes while he is
actually engaged with them.

Each recitation, too, should have its specified time, which should be
adhered to with rigid accuracy. If any thing like the plan I have
suggested for allowing rests of a minute or two every half hour should
be adopted, it will mark off the forenoon into parts which ought to be
precisely and carefully observed. I was formerly accustomed to think
that I could not limit the time for my recitations without great
inconvenience, and occasionally allowed one exercise to encroach upon
the succeeding, and this upon the next, and thus sometimes the last was
excluded altogether. But such a lax and irregular method of procedure is
ruinous to the discipline of a school. On perceiving it at last, I put
the bell into the hands of a pupil, commissioning her to ring regularly,
having myself fixed the times, saying that I would show my pupils that I
could be confined myself to system as well as they. At first I
experienced a little inconvenience; but this soon disappeared, and at
last the hours and half hours of our artificial division entirely
superseded, in the school-room, the divisions of the clock face. I
found, too, that it exerted an extremely favorable influence upon the
scholars in respect to their willingness to submit readily to the
necessary restrictions imposed upon them in school, to show them that
the teacher was subject to law as well as they.

But, in order that I may be specific and definite, I will draw up a plan
for the regular division of time, for a common school, not to be
_adopted_, but to be _imitated_; that is, I do not recommend exactly
this plan, but that some plan, precise and specific, should be
determined upon, and exhibited to the school by a diagram like the
following:

FORENOON.
IX.       X.               XI.        XII.
+---------+---------+---+---+------------+
|READING. |WRITING. |R. |G. |ARITHMETIC. |
+----+----+----+----+---+---+-----+------+
|    |    |    |    |   |   |     |      |
|    |    |    |    |   |   |     |      |
|    |    |    |    |   |   |     |      |
|    |    |    |    |   |   |     |      |
+----+----+----+----+---+---+-----+------+


AFTERNOON.

II.      III.              IV.         V.
+-----------+---------+---+---+----------+
|GEOGRAPHY. |WRITING. |R. |G. |GRAMMAR.  |
+-----+-----+----+----+---+---+----+-----+
|     |     |    |    |   |   |    |     |
|     |     |    |    |   |   |    |     |
|     |     |    |    |   |   |    |     |
|     |     |    |    |   |   |    |     |
+-----+-----+----+----+---+---+----+-----+
A drawing on a large sheet, made by some of the older scholars (for a
teacher should never do any thing of this kind which his scholars can do
for him), should be made and pasted up to view, the names of the classes
being inserted in the columns under their respective heads. At the
double lines at ten and three, there might be a rest of two minutes, an
officer appointed for the purpose ringing a bell at each of the periods
marked on the plan, and making the signal for the _rest_, whatever
signal might be determined upon. It is a good plan to have the bell
_touched_ five minutes before each half hour expires, and then exactly
at its close. The first bell would notify the teacher or teachers, if
there are more than one in the school, that the time for their
respective recitations is drawing to a close. At the second bell the new
classes should take their places without waiting to be called for. The
scholars will thus see that the arrangements of the school are based
upon system, to which the teacher himself conforms, and not subjected to
his own varying will. They will thus not only go on more regularly, but
they will themselves yield more easily and pleasantly to the necessary
arrangements.

The fact is, children love system and regularity. Each one is sometimes
a little uneasy under the restraint which it imposes upon him
individually, but they all love to see its operation upon others, and
they are generally very willing to submit to its laws, if the rest of
the community are required to submit too. They show this in their love
of military parade; what allures them is chiefly the _order_ of it; and
even a little child creeping upon the floor will be pleased when he gets
his playthings in a row. A teacher may turn this principle to most
useful account in forming his plans for his school, in observing that
the teacher is governed by them too as well as they.

It will be seen by reference to the foregoing plan that I have marked
the time for the recesses by the letter R. at the top. Immediately after
them, both in the forenoon and in the afternoon, twenty minutes are
left, marked G., the initial standing for general exercise. They are
intended to denote periods during which all the scholars are in their
seats, with their work laid aside, ready to attend to whatever the
teacher may desire to bring before the whole school. There are so many
occasions on which it is necessary to address the whole school, that it
is very desirable to appropriate a particular time for it. In most of
the best schools I believe this plan is adopted. I will mention some of
the subjects which would come up at such a time.

1. There are some studies which can be advantageously attended to by the
whole school together, such as Punctuation, and, to some extent,
Spelling.

2. Cases of discipline which it is necessary to bring before the whole
school ought to come up at a regularly-appointed time. By attending to
them here, there will be a greater importance attached to them. Whatever
the teacher does will seem to be more deliberate, and, in fact, _will
be_ more deliberate.

3. General remarks, bringing up classes of faults which prevail; also
general directions, which may at any time be needed; and, in fact, any
business relating to the general arrangements of the school.

4. Familiar lectures from the teacher on various subjects. These
lectures, though necessarily brief and quite familiar in their form, may
still be very exact and thorough in respect to the knowledge conveyed.
When they are upon scientific subjects they may sometimes be illustrated
by experiments, more or less imposing, according to the ingenuity of the
teacher, the capacity of the older scholars to assist him in the
preparations, or the means and facilities at his command.[2]

[Illustration]

[Footnote 2: In some of the larger institutions of the country the
teacher will have convenient apparatus at his disposal, and a room
specially adapted to the purpose of experiments. The engraving
represents a room at the Spingler Institute at New York. But let not the
teacher suppose that these special facilities are essential to enable
him to give instruction to his pupils in such a way. I have known a much
larger balloon than the one represented in the engraving to be
constructed by the teacher and pupils of a common country school from
directions in Rees's Cyclopedia, and sent up in the open air. The
aeronaut that accompanied it was a hen--poor thing!] The design of such
lectures should be to extend the _general knowledge_ of the pupils in
regard to those subjects on which they will need information in their
progress through life. In regard to each of these particulars I shall
speak more particularly hereafter, in the chapters to which they
respectively belong. My only object here is to show, in the general
arrangements of the school, how a place is to be found for them. My
practice has been to have two periods of short duration, each day,
appropriated to these objects: the first to the _business of the
school_, and the second to such studies or lectures as could be most
profitably attended to at such a time.

We come now to one of the most important subjects which present
themselves to the teacher's attention in settling the principles upon
which he shall govern his school. I mean the degree of influence which
the boys themselves shall have in the management of its affairs. Shall
the government of school be a _monarchy_ or a _republic?_ To this
question, after much inquiry and many experiments, I answer, a monarchy;
an absolute, unlimited monarchy; the teacher possessing exclusive power
as far as the pupils are concerned, though strictly responsible to the
committee or to the trustees under whom he holds his office.

While, however, it is thus distinctly understood that the power of the
teacher is supreme, that all the power rests in him, and that he alone
is responsible for its exercise, there ought to be a very free and
continual _delegation_ of power to the pupils. As much business as is
possible should be committed to them. They should be interested as much
as possible in the affairs of the school, and led to take an active part
in carrying them forward; though they should, all the time, distinctly
understand that it is only _delegated_ power which they exercise, and
that the teacher can, at any time, revoke what he has granted, and alter
or annul at pleasure any of their decisions. By this plan we have the
responsibility resting where it ought to rest, and yet the boys are
trained to business, and led to take an active interest in the welfare
of the school. Trust is reposed in them, which may be greater or less,
as they are able to bear. All the good effects of reposing trust and
confidence, and committing the management of important business to the
pupils will be secured, without the dangers which would result from the
entire surrender of the management of the institution into their hands.

There have been, in several cases, experiments made with reference to
ascertaining how far a government strictly republican would be
admissible in a school. A very fair experiment of this kind was made
some years since at the Gardiner Lyceum, in Maine. At the time of its
establishment, nothing was said of the mode of government which it was
intended to adopt. For some time the attention of the instructors was
occupied in arranging the course of study, and attending to the other
concerns of the institution; and, in the infant state of the Lyceum, few
cases of discipline occurred, and no regular system of government was
necessary.

Before long, however, complaints were made that the students at the
Lyceum were guilty of breaking windows in an old building used as a
town-house. The principal called the students together, mentioned the
reports, and said that he did not know, and did not wish to know who
were the guilty individuals. It was necessary, however, that the thing
should be examined into, and that restitution should be made, and,
relying on their faithfulness and ability, he should leave them to
manage the business alone. For this purpose, he nominated one of the
students as judge, some others as jurymen, and appointed the other
officers necessary in the same manner. He told them that, in order to
give them time to make a thorough investigation, they were excused from
farther exercises during the day.

The principal then left them, and they entered on the trial. The result
was that they discovered the guilty individuals, ascertained the amount
of mischief done by each, and sent to the selectmen a message, by which
they agreed to pay a sum equal to three times the value of the injury
sustained.

The students were soon after informed that this mode of bringing
offenders to justice would hereafter be always pursued, and arrangements
were made for organizing a _regular republican government_ among the
young men. By this government all laws which related to the internal
police of the institution were to be made, all officers were appointed,
and all criminal cases were to be tried. The students finding the part
of a judge too difficult for them to sustain, one of the professors was
appointed to hold that office, and, for similar reasons, another of the
professors was made president of the legislative assembly. The principal
was the executive, with power to _pardon_, but not to _sentence_, or
even _accuse_.

Some time after this a student was indicted for profane swearing; he was
tried, convicted, and punished. After this he evinced a strong hostility
to the government. He made great exertions to bring it into contempt,
and when the next trial came on, he endeavored to persuade the witnesses
that giving evidence was dishonorable, and he so far succeeded that the
defendant was acquitted for want of evidence, when it was generally
understood that there was proof of his guilt, which would have been
satisfactory if it could have been brought forward. For some time after
this the prospect was rather unfavorable, though many of the students
themselves opposed with great earnestness these efforts, and were much
alarmed lest they should lose their free government through the
perverseness of one of their number. The attorney general, at this
juncture, conceived the idea of indicting the individual alluded to for
an attempt to overturn the government. He obtained the approbation of
the principal, and the grand jury found a bill. The court, as the case
was so important, invited some of the trustees, who were in town, to
attend the trial. The parent of the defendant was also informed of the
circumstances and requested to be present, and he accordingly attended.
The prisoner was tried, found guilty, and sentenced, if I mistake not,
to expulsion. At his earnest request, however, to be permitted to remain
in the Lyceum and redeem his character, he was pardoned and restored,
and from that time he became perfectly exemplary in his conduct and
character. After this occurrence the system went on in successful
operation for some time.

The legislative power was vested in the hands of a general committee,
consisting of eight or ten, chosen by the students from their own
number. They met about once a week to transact such business as
appointing officers, making and repealing regulations, and inquiring
into the state of the Lyceum. The instructors had a negative upon all
their proceedings, but no direct and positive power. They could pardon,
but they could assign no punishments, nor make laws inflicting any.

Now such a plan as this may succeed for a short time, and under very
favorable circumstances; and the circumstance which it is chiefly
important should be favorable is, that the man who is called to preside
over such an association should possess such talents of _generalship_
that he can really manage the institution _himself_, while the power is
_nominally_ and _apparently_ in the hands of the boys. Should this not
be the case, or should the teacher, from any cause, lose his personal
influence in the school, so that the institution should really be
surrendered into the hands of the pupils, things must be on a very
unstable footing. And, accordingly, where such a plan has been adopted,
it has, I believe, in every instance, been ultimately abandoned.

_Real self-government_ is an experiment sufficiently hazardous among
men, though Providence, in making a daily supply of food necessary for
every human being, has imposed a most powerful check upon the tendency
to anarchy and confusion. Let the populace of Paris or of London
materially interrupt the order and break in upon the arrangements of the
community, and in eight-and-forty hours nearly the whole of the mighty
mass will be in the hands of the devourer, hunger, and they will be soon
brought to submission. On the other hand, a month's anarchy and
confusion in a college or an academy would be delight to half the
students, or else times have greatly changed since I was within college
walls.

Although it is thus evident that the important concerns of a literary
institution can not be safely committed into the hands of the students,
very great benefits will result from calling upon them to act upon and
to decide questions relative to the school within such limits and under
such restrictions as are safe and proper. Such a practice will assist
the teacher very much if he manages it with any degree of dexterity; for
it will interest his pupils in the success of the school, and secure, to
a very considerable extent, their co-operation in the government of it.
It will teach them self-control and self-government, and will accustom
them to submit to the majority--that lesson which, of all others, it is
important for a republican to learn.

In endeavoring to interest the pupils of a school in the work of
co-operating with the teacher in its administration, no little dexterity
will be necessary at the outset. In all probability, the formal
announcement of this principle, and the endeavor to introduce it by a
sudden revolution, would totally fail. Boys, like men, must be gradually
prepared for; power, and they must exercise it only so far as they are
prepared. This, however, can very easily be done. The teacher should say
nothing of his general design, but, when some suitable opportunity
presents, he should endeavor to lead his pupils to co-operate with him
in some particular instance.

For example, let us suppose that he has been accustomed to distribute
the writing-books with his own hand when the writing-hour arrives, and
that he concludes to delegate this simple business first to his
scholars. He accordingly states to them, just before the writing
exercise of the day on which he proposes the experiment, as follows:

"I have thought that time will be saved if you will help me distribute
the books, and I will accordingly appoint four distributors, one for
each division of the seats, who may come to me and receive the books,
and distribute them each to his own division. Are you willing to adopt
this plan?"

The boys answer "Yes, sir," and the teacher then looks carefully around
the room, and selects four pleasant and popular boys--boys who he knows
would gladly assist him, and who would, at the same time, be agreeable
to their school-mates. This latter point is necessary in order to secure
the popularity and success of the plan.

Unless the boys are very different from any I have ever met with, they
will be pleased with the duty thus assigned them. They will learn system
and regularity by being taught to perform this simple duty in a proper
manner. After a week, the teacher may consider their term of service as
having expired, and thanking them in public for the assistance they have
rendered him, he may ask the scholars if they are willing to continue
the plan, and if the vote is in favor of it, as it unquestionably would
be, each boy probably hoping that he should be appointed to the office,
the teacher may nominate four others, including, perhaps, upon the list,
some boy popular among his companions, but whom he has suspected to be
not very friendly to himself or the school. I think the most scrupulous
statesman would not object to securing influence by conferring office in
such a case. If difficulties arise from the operation of such a measure,
the plan can easily be modified to avoid or correct them. If it is
successful, it may be continued, and the principle may be extended, so
as in the end to affect very considerably all the arrangements and the
whole management of the school.

Or, let us imagine the following scene to have been the commencement of
the introduction of the principle of limited self-government into a
school.

The preceptor of an academy was sitting at his desk, at the close of
school, while the pupils were putting up their books and leaving the
room. A boy came in with angry looks, and, with his hat in his hands
bruised and dusty, advanced to the master's desk, and complained that
one of his companions had thrown down his hat upon the floor, and had
almost spoiled it.

The teacher looked calmly at the mischief, and then asked how it
happened.

"I don't know, sir. I hung it on my nail, and he pulled it down."

"I wish you would ask him to come here," said the teacher. "Ask him
pleasantly."

The accused soon came in, and the two boys stood together before the
master.

"There seems to be some difficulty between you boys about a nail to hang
your hats upon. I suppose each of you think it is your own nail."

"Yes, sir," said both the boys.

"It will be more convenient for me to talk with you about this to-morrow
than to-night, if you are willing to wait. Besides, we can examine it
more calmly then. But if we put it off till then, you must not talk
about it in the mean time, blaming one another, and keeping up the
irritation that you feel. Are you both willing to leave it just where it
is till to-morrow, and try to forget all about it till then? I expect I
shall find you both a little to blame."

The boys rather reluctantly consented. The next day the master heard the
case, and settled it so far as it related to the two boys. It was easily
settled in the morning, for they had had time to get calm, and were,
after sleeping away their anger, rather ashamed of the whole affair, and
very desirous to have it forgotten.

That day, when the hour for the transaction of general business came,
the teacher stated to the school that it was necessary to take some
measures to provide each boy with a nail for his hat. In order to show
that it was necessary, he related the circumstances of the quarrel which
had occurred the day before. He did this, not with such an air and
manner as to convey the impression that his object was to find fault
with the boys, or to expose their misconduct, but to show the necessity
of doing something to remedy the evil which had been the cause of so
unpleasant an occurrence. Still, though he said nothing in the way of
reproof or reprehension, and did not name the boys, but merely gave a
cool and impartial narrative of the facts, the effect, very evidently,
was to bring such quarrels into discredit. A calm review of misconduct,
after the excitement has gone by, will do more to bring it into disgrace
than the most violent invectives and reproaches directed against the
individuals guilty of it at the time.

"Now, boys," continued the master, "will you assist me in making
arrangements to prevent the recurrence of all temptations of this kind
hereafter? It is plain that every boy ought to have a nail appropriated
expressly to his use. The first thing to be done is to ascertain whether
there are enough for all. I should like, therefore, to have two
committees appointed: one to count and report the number of nails in the
entry, and also how much room there is for more; the other to ascertain
the number of scholars in school. They can count all who are here, and,
by observing the vacant desks, they can ascertain the number absent.
When this investigation is made, I will tell you what to do next."

The boys seemed pleased with the plan, and the committees were
appointed, two members on each. The master took care to give the
quarrelers some share in the work, apparently forgetting, from this
time, the unpleasant occurrence which had brought up the subject.

When the boys came to inform him of the result of their inquiries, he
asked them to make a little memorandum of it in writing, as he might
forget the numbers, he said, before the time came for reading them. The
boys brought him, presently, a rough scrap of paper, with the figures
marked upon it. He told them he should forget which was the number of
nails, and which the number of scholars, unless they wrote it down.

"It is the custom among men," said he, "to make out their report, in
such a case, fully, so that it would explain itself; and I should like
to have you, if you are willing, make out yours a little more
distinctly."

Accordingly, after a little additional explanation, the boys made
another attempt, and presently returned with something like the
following:

"The committee for counting the nails report as follows:
    Number of nails. . . . 35
    Room for more  . . . . 15."

The other report was very similar, though somewhat rudely written and
expressed, and both were perfectly satisfactory to the preceptor, as he
plainly showed by the manner in which he received them.

I need not finish the description of this case by narrating particularly
the reading of the reports, the appointment of a committee to assign the
nails, and to paste up the names of the scholars, one to each. The work,
in such a case, might be done in recesses, and out of school hours; and
though, at first, the teacher will find that it is as much trouble to
accomplish business in this way as it would be to attend to it directly
himself, yet, after a very little experience, he will find that his
pupils will acquire dexterity and readiness, and will be able to render
him very material assistance in the accomplishment of his plans.

This, however--the assistance rendered to the teacher--is not the main
object of the adoption of such measures as this. The main design is to
interest the pupils in the management and the welfare of the school--to
identify them, as it were, with it. And such measures as the above will
accomplish this object; and every teacher who will try the experiment,
and carry it into effect with any tolerable degree of skill, will find
that it will, in a short time, change the whole aspect of the school in
regard to the feelings subsisting between himself and his pupils.

Each teacher who tries such an experiment will find himself insensibly
repeating it, and after a time he may have quite a number of officers
and committees who are intrusted with various departments of business.
He will have a secretary, chosen by ballot by the scholars, to keep a
record of all the important transactions in the school for each day. At
first he will dictate to the secretary, thus directing him precisely
what to say, or even writing it for him, and then merely requiring him
to copy it into the book provided for the purpose. Afterward he will
give the pupil less and less assistance, till he can keep the record
properly himself. The record of each day will be read on the succeeding
day at the hour for business. The teacher will perhaps have a committee
to take care of the fire, and another to see that the room is constantly
in good order. He will have distributors for each division of seats, to
distribute books, and compositions, and pens, and to collect votes. And
thus, in a short time, his school will become _regularly organized as a
society or legislative assembly_. The boys will learn submission to the
majority in such unimportant things as may be committed to them; they
will learn system and regularity, and every thing else, indeed, that
belongs to the science of political self-government.

There are dangers, however. What useful practice has not its dangers?
One of these is, that the teacher will allow these arrangements to take
up too much time. He must guard against this. I have found from
experience that fifteen minutes each day, with a school of 135, is
enough. This ought never to be exceeded.

Another danger is, that the boys will be so engaged in the duties of
their _offices_ as to neglect their _studies_. This would be, and ought
to be, fatal to the whole plan. This danger may be avoided in the
following manner. State publicly that you will not appoint any to office
who are not good scholars, always punctual, and always prepared; and
when any boy who holds an office is going behindhand in his studies, say
to him kindly, "You have not time to get your lessons, and I am afraid
it is owing to the fact that you spend so much time in helping me. Now
if you wish to resign your office, so as to have more time for your
lessons, you can. In fact, I think you ought to do it. You may try it
for a day or two, and I will notice how you recite, and then we can
decide."

Such a communication will generally be found to have a powerful effect.
If it does not remedy the evil, the resignation must be insisted on. A
few decided cases of this kind will effectually remove the evil I am
considering.

Another difficulty which is likely to attend the plan of allowing the
pupils of a school to take some part in this way in the administration
of it is that it may tend to make them insubordinate, so that they will,
in many instances, submit with less good humor to such decisions as you
may consider necessary. I do not mean that this will be the case with
all, but that there will be a few who will be ungenerous enough, if you
allow them to decide sometimes what shall be done, to endeavor to make
trouble, or at least to show symptoms of impatience and vexation because
you do not allow them always to decide.

Sometimes this feeling may show itself by the discontented looks, or
gestures, or even words with which some unwelcome regulation or order on
the part of the teacher will be received. Such a spirit should be
immediately and decidedly checked whenever it appears. It will not be
difficult to check, and even entirely to remove it. On one occasion
when, after learning the wish of the scholars on some subject which had
been brought before them, I decided contrary to it, there arose a murmur
of discontent all over the room. This was the more distinct, because I
have always accustomed my pupils to answer questions asked, and to
express their wishes and feelings on any subject I may present to them
with great freedom.

I asked all those who had expressed their dissatisfaction to rise.

About one third of the scholars arose.

"Perhaps you understood that when I put the question to vote I meant to
abide by your decision, and that, consequently, I ought not to have
reversed it, as I did afterward?"

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," they replied.

Do you suppose it would be safe to leave the decision of important
questions to the scholars in this school?"

"Yes, sir;" "No, sir." The majority were, however, in the affirmative.

Thus far, only those who were standing had answered. I told them that,
as they were divided in opinion, they might sit, and I would put the
question to the whole school.

"You know," I continued, addressing the whole, "what sort of persons the
girls who compose this school are. You know about how many are governed
habitually by steady principle, and how many by impulse and feeling. You
know, too, what proportion have judgment and foresight necessary to
consider and decide independently such questions as continually arise in
the management of a school. Now suppose I should resign the school into
your own hands as to its management, and only come in to give
instruction to the classes, leaving all general control of its
arrangements with you, would it go on safely or not?"

As might have been foreseen, there was, when the question was fairly
proposed, scarcely a solitary vote in favor of government by scholars.
They seemed to see clearly the absurdity of such a scheme.

"Besides," I continued, "the trustees of this school have committed it
to my charge; they hold me responsible; the public hold _me_
responsible, not you. Now if I should surrender it into your hands, and
you, from any cause, should manage the trust unfaithfully or
unskillfully, I should necessarily be held accountable. I could never
shift the responsibility upon you. Now it plainly is not just or right
that one party should hold the power, and another be held accountable
for its exercise. It is clear, therefore, in every view of the subject,
that I should retain the management of this school in my own hands. Are
you not satisfied that it is?"

The scholars universally answered "Yes, sir." They seemed satisfied, and
doubtless were.

It was then stated to them that the object in asking them to vote was,
in some cases, to obtain an expression of their opinion or their wishes
in order to help _me_ decide, and only in those cases where it was
expressly stated did I mean to give the final decision to them.

Still, however, if cases are often referred to them, the feeling will
gradually creep in that the school is managed on republican principles,
as they call it, and they will, unless this point is specially guarded,
gradually lose that spirit of entire and cordial subordination so
necessary for the success of any school. It should often be distinctly
explained to them that a republican government is one where the power
essentially resides in the community, and is exercised by a ruler only
so far as the community delegates it to him, whereas in the school the
government is based on the principle that the power, primarily and
essentially, resides in the teacher, the scholars exercising only such
as _he_ may delegate to _them_.

With these limitations and restrictions, and with this express
understanding in regard to what is, in all cases, the ultimate
authority, I think there will be no danger in throwing a very large
share of the business which will, from time to time, come up in the
school, upon the scholars themselves for decision. In my own experience
this plan has been adopted with the happiest results. In the Mount
Vernon School a small red morocco wrapper lies constantly on a little
shelf, accessible to all. By its side is a little pile of papers, about
one inch by six, on which any one may write her motion, or her
_proposition_, as the scholars call it, whatever it may be, and when
written it is inclosed in the wrapper, to be brought to me at the
appointed time for attending to the general business of the school.
Through this wrapper all questions are asked, all complaints entered,
all proposals made. Is there discontent in the school? It shows itself
by "_propositions_" in the wrapper. Is any body aggrieved or injured? I
learn it through the wrapper. In fact, it is a little safety-valve,
which lets off what, if confined, might threaten explosion---an index--a
thermometer, which reveals to me, from day to day, more of the state of
public opinion in the little community than any thing beside.

These propositions are generally read aloud. Some cases are referred to
the scholars for decision; some I decide myself; others are laid aside
without notice of any kind; others still, merely suggest remarks on the
subjects to which they allude.

The principles, then, which this chapter has been intended to establish,
are simply these: in making your general arrangements, look carefully
over your ground, consider all the objects which you have to accomplish,
and the proper degree of time and attention which each deserves. Then
act upon system. Let the mass of particulars which would otherwise
crowd upon you in promiscuous confusion be arranged and classified. Let
each be assigned to its proper time and place, so that your time may be
your own, under your own command, and not, as is too often the case, at
the mercy of the thousand accidental circumstances which may occur.

In a word, be, in the government of your school, yourself supreme, and
let your supremacy be that of _authority_; but delegate power, as freely
as possible, to those under your care. Show them that you are desirous
of reposing trust in them just so far as they show themselves capable of
exercising it. Thus interest them in your plans, and make them feel that
they participate in the honor or the disgrace of success or failure.

I have gone much into detail in this chapter, proposing definite
measures by which the principles I have recommended may be carried into
effect. I wish, however, that it may be distinctly understood that all I
contend for is the _principles_ themselves, no matter what the
particular measures are by which they are secured. Every good school
must be systematic, but all need not be on precisely the same system. As
this work is intended almost exclusively for beginners, much detail has
been admitted, and many of the specific measures here proposed may
perhaps be safely adopted where no others are established. There may
also, perhaps, be cases where teachers, whose schools are already in
successful operation, may ingraft upon their own plans some things which
are here proposed. If they should attempt it, it must be done cautiously
and gradually. There is no other way by which they can be safely
introduced, or even introduced at all. This is a point of so much
importance, that I must devote a paragraph to it before closing the
chapter.

Let a teacher propose to his pupils, formally, from his desk, the plan
of writing propositions, for example, as explained above, and procure
his wrapper, and put it in its place, and what would be the result?
Why, not a single paper, probably, could he get, from one end of the
week to the other. But let him, on the other hand, when a boy comes to
him to ask some question, the answer to which many in the school would
equally wish to hear, say to the inquirer,

"Will you be so good as to write that question, and put it on my desk,
and then, at the regular time, I will answer it to all the school."

When he reads it, let him state that it was written at his request, and
give the other boys permission to leave their proposals or questions on
his desk in the same way. In a few days he will have another, and thus
the plan may be gently and gradually introduced.

So with officers. They should be appointed among the scholars only _as
fast as they are actually needed_, and the plan should thus be
cautiously carried only so far as it proves good on trial. Be always
cautious about innovations and changes. Make no rash experiments on a
large scale, but always test your principle in the small way, and then,
if it proves good, gradually extend its operation as circumstances seem
to require.

By thus cautiously and slowly introducing plans, founded on the
systematic principles here brought to view, a very considerable degree
of quiet, and order, and regularity may be introduced into the largest
and most miscellaneous schools. And this order and quiet are absolutely
necessary to enable the teacher to find that interest and enjoyment in
his work which were exhibited in the last chapter; the pleasure of
_directing and controlling mind_, and doing it, not by useless and
anxious complaints, or stern threats and painful punishments, but by
regarding the scene of labor in its true light, as a community of
intellectual and moral beings, and governing it by moral and
intellectual power. It is, in fact, the pleasure of exercising _power_.
I do not mean arbitrary, personal authority, but the power to produce,
by successful but quiet contrivance, extensive and happy results; the
pleasure of calmly considering every difficulty, and, without irritation
or anger, devising the proper moral means to remedy the moral evil; and
then the interest and pleasure of witnessing its effects.




CHAPTER III.


INSTRUCTION.

[Illustration]

We come now to consider the subject of Instruction.

There are three kinds of human knowledge which stand strikingly distinct
from all the rest. They lie at the foundation. They constitute the roots
of the tree. In other words, they are the _means_ by which all other
knowledge is attained. I need not say that I mean Reading, Writing, and
Calculation.

Teachers do not perhaps always consider how entirely and essentially
distinct these three branches of learning are from all the rest. They
are arts; the acquisition of them is not to be considered as knowledge,
so much as the means by which knowledge may be obtained. A child who is
studying Geography, or History, or Natural Science, is learning
_facts_--gaining information; on the other hand, the one who is learning
to write, or to read, or to calculate, may be adding little or nothing
to his stock of knowledge. He is acquiring _skill_, which, at some
future time, he may make the means of increasing his knowledge to any
extent.

This distinction ought to be kept constantly in view, and the teacher
should feel that these three fundamental branches stand by themselves,
and stand first in importance. I do not mean to undervalue the others,
but only to insist upon the superior value and importance of these.
Teaching a pupil to read before he enters upon the active business of
life is like giving a new settler an axe as he goes to seek his new home
in the forest. Teaching him a lesson in history is, on the other hand,
only cutting down a tree or two for him. A knowledge of natural history
is like a few bushels of grain gratuitously placed in his barn; but the
art of ready reckoning is the plow which will remain by him for years,
and help him to draw out from the soil a new treasure every year of his
life.

The great object, then, of the common schools in our country is to teach
the whole population to read, to write, and to calculate. In fact, so
essential is it that the accomplishment of these objects should be
secured, that it is even a question whether common schools should not be
confined to them. I say it is a _question_, for it is sometimes made so,
though public opinion has decided that some portion of attention, at
least, should be paid to the acquisition of additional knowledge. But,
after all, the amount of _knowledge_ which is actually acquired at
schools is very small. It must be very small. The true policy is to aim
at making all the pupils good readers, writers, and calculators, and to
consider the other studies of the school important chiefly as practice
in turning these arts to useful account. In other words, the scholars
should be taught these arts thoroughly first of all, and in the other
studies the main design should be to show them how to use, and interest
them in using, the arts they have thus acquired.

A great many teachers feel a much stronger interest in the one or two
scholars they may have in Surveying or in Latin than they do in the
large classes in the elementary branches which fill the school. But a
moment's reflection will show that such a preference is founded on a
very mistaken view. Leading forward one or two minds from step to step
in an advanced study is certainly far inferior in real dignity and
importance to opening all the stores of written knowledge to fifty or a
hundred. The man who neglects the interests of his school in these great
branches to devote his time to two or three, or half a dozen older
scholars, is unjust both to his employers and to himself.

It is the duty, therefore, of every teacher who commences a common
district school for a single season to make, when he commences, an
estimate of the state of his pupils in reference to these three
branches. How do they all write? How do they all read? How do they
calculate? It would be well if he would make a careful examination of
the school in this respect. Let them all write a specimen. Let all read,
and let him make a memorandum of the manner, noticing how many read
fluently, how many with difficulty, how many know only their letters,
and how many are to be taught these. Let him ascertain, also, what
progress they have made in arithmetic--how many can readily perform the
elementary processes, and what number need instruction in these. After
thus surveying the ground, let him form his plan, and lay out his whole
strength in carrying forward as rapidly as possible the _whole school_
in these studies. By this means he is acting most directly and
powerfully on the intelligence of the whole future community in that
place. He is opening to fifty or a hundred minds stores of knowledge
which they will go on exploring for years to come. What a descent now
from such a work as this to the mere hearing of the recitation of two or
three boys in Trigonometry!

I repeat it, that a thorough and enlightened survey of the whole school
should be taken, and plans formed for elevating the whole mass in those
great branches of knowledge which are to be of immediate practical use
to them in future life.

If the school is one more advanced in respect to the age and studies of
the pupils, the teacher should, in the same manner, before he forms his
plans, consider well what are the great objects which he has to
accomplish. He should ascertain what is the existing state of his
school both as to knowledge and character; how long, generally, his
pupils are to remain under his care; what are to be their future
stations and conditions in life, and what objects he can reasonably hope
to effect for them while they remain under his influence. By means of
this forethought and consideration he will be enabled to work
understandingly.

It is desirable, too, that what I have recommended in reference to the
whole school should be done in respect to the case of each individual.
When a new pupil comes under your charge, ascertain (by other means,
however, than formal examination) to what stage his education has
advanced, and deliberately consider what objects you can reasonably
expect to effect for him while he remains under your care. You can not,
indeed, always form your plans to suit so exactly your general views in
regard to the school and to individuals as you could wish. But these
general views will, in a thousand cases, modify your plans, or affect in
a greater or less degree all your arrangements. They will keep you to a
steady purpose, and your work will go on far more systematically and
regularly than it would do if, as in fact many teachers do, you were to
come headlong into your school, take things just as you find them, and
carry them forward at random without end or aim.

This survey of your field being made, you are prepared to commence
definite operations, and the great difficulty in carrying your plans
into effect is how to act more efficiently on _the greatest numbers at a
time._ The whole business of public instruction, if it goes on at all,
must go on by the teacher's skill in multiplying his power, by acting on
_numbers at once._ In most books on education we are taught, almost
exclusively, how to operate on the _individual_. It is the error into
which theoretic writers almost always fall. We meet in every periodical,
and in every treatise, and, in fact, in almost every conversation on the
subject, with remarks which sound very well by the fireside, but they
are totally inefficient and useless in school, from their being
apparently based upon the supposition that the teacher has but _one_
pupil to attend to at a time. The great question in the management of
schools is not how you can take _one_ scholar, and lead him forward most
rapidly in a prescribed course, but how you can classify and arrange
_numbers_, comprising every possible variety both as to knowledge and
capacity, so as to carry them all forward effectually together.

The extent to which a teacher may multiply his power by acting on
numbers at a time is very great. In order to estimate it, we must
consider carefully what it is when carried to the greatest extent to
which it is capable of being carried under the most favorable
circumstances. Now it is possible for a teacher to speak so as to be
easily heard by three hundred persons, and three hundred pupils can be
easily so seated as to see his illustrations or diagrams. Now suppose
that three hundred pupils, all ignorant of the method of reducing
fractions to a common denominator, and yet all old enough to learn, are
collected in one room. Suppose they are all attentive and desirous of
learning, it is very plain that the process may be explained to the
whole at once, so that half an hour spent in that exercise would enable
a very large proportion of them to understand the subject. So, if a
teacher is explaining to a class in Grammar the difference between a
noun and verb, the explanation would do as well for several hundred as
for the dozen who constitute the class, if arrangements could only be
made to have the hundreds hear it; but there are, perhaps, only a
hundred pupils in the school, and of these a large part understand
already the point to be explained, and another large part are too young
to attend to it. I wish the object of these remarks not to be
misunderstood. I do not recommend the attempt to teach on so extensive a
scale; I admit that it is impracticable; I only mean to show in what the
impracticability consists, namely, in the difficulty of making such
arrangements as to derive the full benefit from the instructions
rendered. The instructions of the teacher are, _in the nature of
things,_ available to the extent I have represented, but in actual
practice the full benefit can not be derived. Now, so far as we thus
fall short of this full benefit, so far there is, of course, waste; and
it is difficult or impossible to make such arrangements as will avoid
the waste, in this manner, of a large portion of every effort which the
teacher makes.

A very small class instructed by an able teacher is like a factory of a
hundred spindles, with a water-wheel of power sufficient for a thousand.
In such a case, even if the owner, from want of capital or any other
cause, can not add the other nine hundred, he ought to know how much of
his power is in fact unemployed, and make arrangements to bring it into
useful exercise as soon as he can. The teacher, in the same manner,
should understand what is the full beneficial effect which it is
possible, _in theory_, to derive from his instructions. He should
understand, too, that just so far as he falls short of this full effect
there is waste. It may be unavoidable; part of it unquestionably is,
like the friction of machinery, unavoidable. Still, it is waste; and it
ought to be so understood, that, by the gradual perfection of the
machinery, it may be more and more fully prevented.

Always bear in mind, then, when you are devoting your time to two or
three individuals in a class, that your are losing a large part of your
labor. Your instructions are conducive to good effect only to the one
tenth or one twentieth of the extent to which, under more favorable
circumstances, they might be made available. And though you can not
always avoid this loss, you ought to be aware of it, and so to shape
your measures as to diminish it as much as possible.

We come now to consider the particular measures to be adopted in giving
instruction.

The objects which are to be secured in the management of the classes
are twofold:

1. Recitation. 2. Instruction.

These two objects are, it is plain, entirely distinct. Under the latter
is included all the explanation, and assistance, and additional
information which the teacher may give his pupils, and under the former,
such an _examination_ of individuals as is necessary to secure their
careful attention to their lessons. It is unsafe to neglect either of
these points. If the class meetings are mere _recitations_, they soon
become dull and mechanical; the pupils generally take little interest in
their studies, and imbibe no literary spirit. Their intellectual
progress will, accordingly, suddenly cease the moment they leave school,
and so cease to be called upon to recite lessons. On the other hand, if
_instruction_ is all that is aimed at, and _recitation_ (by which I
mean, as above explained, such an examination of individuals as is
necessary to ascertain that they have faithfully performed the tasks
assigned) is neglected, the exercise soon becomes not much more than a
lecture, to which those, and those only, will attend who please.

The business, therefore, of a thorough examination of the class must not
be omitted. I do not mean that each individual scholar must every day be
examined, but simply that the teacher must, in some way or other,
satisfy himself by reasonable evidence that the whole class are really
prepared. A great deal of ingenuity may be exercised in contriving means
for effecting this object in the shortest possible time. I know of no
part of the field of a teacher's labors which may be more facilitated by
a little ingenuity than this.

One teacher, for instance, has a spelling lesson to hear. He begins at
the head of the line, and putting one word to each boy, goes regularly
down, each successive pupil calculating the chances whether a word which
he can accidentally spell will or will not come to him. If he spells it,
the teacher can not tell whether he is prepared or not. That word is
only one among fifty constituting the lesson. If he misses it, the
teacher can not decide that he was unprepared. It might have been a
single accidental error.

Another teacher, hearing the same lesson, requests the boys to bring
their slates, and, as he dictates the words one after another, requires
all to write them. After they are all written, he calls upon the pupils
to spell them aloud as they have written them, simultaneously, pausing a
moment after each, to give those who are wrong an opportunity to
indicate it by some mark opposite the word misspelled. They all count
the number of errors and report them. He passes down the class, glancing
his eye at the work of each one to see that all is right, noticing
particularly those slates which, from the character of the boys, need a
more careful inspection. A teacher who had never tried this experiment
would be surprised at the rapidity with which such work will be
performed by a class after a little practice.

Now how different are these two methods in their actual results! In the
latter case the whole class are thoroughly examined. In the former not a
single member of it is. Let me not be understood to recommend exactly
this method of teaching spelling as the best one to be adopted in all
cases. I only bring it forward as an illustration of the idea that a
little machinery, a little ingenuity in contriving ways of acting on the
_whole_ rather than on individuals, will very much promote the teacher's
designs.

In order to facilitate such plans, it is highly desirable that the
classes should be trained to military precision and exactness in these
manipulations. What I mean by this may perhaps be best illustrated by
describing a case: it will show, in another branch, how much will be
gained by acting upon numbers at once instead of upon each individual in
succession.

Imagine, then, that a teacher requested all the pupils of his school who
could write to take out their slates at the hour for a general
exercise. As soon as the first bustle of opening and shutting the desks
was over, he looked around the room, and saw some ruling lines across
their slates, others wiping them all over on both sides with sponges,
others scribbling, or writing, or making figures.

"All those," says he, speaking, however, with a pleasant tone and with a
pleasant look, "who have taken out any thing besides slates, may rise."

Several, in various parts of the room, stood up.

"All those who have written any thing since they took out their slates
may rise too, and those who have wiped their slates."

"When all were up, he said to them, though not with a frown or a scowl,
as if they had committed a great offense,

"Suppose a company of soldiers should be ordered to _form a line_, and
instead of simply obeying that order they should all set at work, each
in his own way, doing something else. One man at one end of the line
begins to load and fire his gun; another takes out his knapsack and
begins to eat his luncheon; a third amuses himself by going as fast as
possible through the exercise; and another still, begins to march about
hither and thither, facing to the right and left, and performing all the
evolutions he can think of. What should you say to such a company as
that?"

The boys laughed.

"It is better," said the teacher, "when numbers are acting under the
direction of one, that they should all act _exactly together_. In this
way we advance much faster than we otherwise should. Be careful,
therefore, to do exactly what I command, and nothing more.

"_Provide a place on your slates large enough to write a single line_,"
added the teacher, in a distinct voice. I print his orders in Italics,
and his remarks and explanations in Roman letters.

"_Prepare to write_.

"I mean by this," he continued, "that you place your slates before you
with your pencils at the place where you are to begin, so that all may
commence precisely at the same instant."

The teacher who tries such an experiment as this will find at such a
juncture an expression of fixed and pleasant attention upon every
countenance in school. All will be intent, all will be interested. Boys
love order, and system, and acting in concert, and they will obey with
great alacrity such commands as these if they are good-humoredly, though
decidedly expressed.

The teacher observed in one part of the room a hand raised, indicating
that the boy wished to speak to him. He gave him liberty by pronouncing
his name.

"I have no pencil," said the boy.

A dozen hands all around him were immediately seen fumbling in pockets
and desks, and in a few minutes several pencils were reached out for his
acceptance.

The boy looked at the pencils and then at the teacher; he did not
exactly know whether he was to take one or not.

"All those boys," said the teacher, pleasantly, "who have taken out
pencils, may rise.

"Have these boys done right or wrong?"

"Right;" "Wrong;" "Right," answered their companions, variously.

"Their motive was to help their class-mate out of his difficulties; that
is a good feeling, certainly."

"Yes, sir, right;" "Right."

"But I thought you promised me a moment ago," replied the teacher, "not
to do any thing unless I commanded it. Did I ask for pencils?"

A pause.

"I do not blame these boys at all in this case; still, it is better to
adhere rigidly to the principle of _exact obedience _ when numbers are
acting together. I thank them, therefore, for being so ready to assist
a companion, but they must put their pencils away, as they were taken
out without orders."

Now such a dialogue as this, if the teacher speaks in a good-humored,
though decided manner, would be universally well received in any school.
Whenever strictness of discipline is unpopular, it is rendered so simply
by the ill-humored and ill-judged means by which it is attempted to be
introduced. But all children will love strict discipline if it is
pleasantly, though firmly maintained. It is a great, though very
prevalent mistake, to imagine that boys and girls like a lax and
inefficient government, and dislike the pressure of steady control. What
they dislike is sour looks and irritating language, and they therefore
very naturally dislike every thing introduced or sustained by means of
them. If, however, exactness and precision in all the operations of a
class and of the school are introduced and enforced in the proper
manner, that is, by a firm, but mild and good-humored authority,
scholars will universally be pleased with them. They like to see the
uniform appearance, the straight line, the simultaneous movement. They
like to feel the operation of system, and to realize, while they are at
the school-room, that they form a community, governed by fixed and
steady laws, firmly but kindly administered. On the other hand, laxity
of discipline, and the disorder which will result from it, will only
lead the pupils to contemn their teacher and to hate their school.

By introducing and maintaining such a discipline as I have described,
great facilities will be secured for examining the classes. For example,
to take a case different from the one before described, let us suppose
that a class have been performing a number of examples in Addition. They
come together to the recitation, and, under one mode of managing
classes, the teacher is immediately beset by a number of the pupils with
excuses. One had no slate; another was absent when the lesson was
assigned; a third performed the work, but it got rubbed out, and a
fourth did not know what was to be done. The teacher stops to hear all
these, and to talk about them, fretting himself, and fretting the
delinquents by his impatient remarks. The rest of the class are waiting,
and, having nothing good to do, the temptation is almost irresistible to
do something bad. One boy is drawing pictures on his slate to make his
neighbors laugh, another is whispering, and two more are at play. The
disorder continues while the teacher goes round examining slate after
slate, his whole attention being engrossed by each individual, as the
pupils come to him successively, while the rest are left to themselves,
interrupted only by an occasional harsh, or even angry, but utterly
useless rebuke from him.

But, under another mode of managing classes and schools, a very
different result would be produced.

A boy approaches the teacher to render an excuse; the teacher replies,
addressing himself, however, to the whole class, "I shall give all an
opportunity to offer their excuses presently. No one must come till he
is called."

The class then regularly take their places in the recitation seats, the
prepared and unprepared together. The following commands are given and
obeyed promptly. They are spoken pleasantly, but still in the tone of
command.

"The class may rise.

"All those that are not fully prepared with this lesson may sit."

A number sit; and others, doubtful whether they are prepared or not, or
thinking that there is something peculiar in their cases, which they
wish to state, raise their hands, or make any other signal which is
customary to indicate a wish to speak. Such a signal ought always to be
agreed upon, and understood in school.

The teacher shakes his head, saying, "I will hear you presently. If
there is, on any account whatever, any doubt whether you are prepared,
you must sit.

"Those that are standing may read their answers to No. 1. Unit figure?"

_Boys._ "Five."

_Teacher._ "Tens?"

_B._ "Six."

_T._ "Hundreds?"

_B._ "Seven."

While these numbers are thus reading, the teacher looks at the boys, and
can easily see whether any are not reading their own answers, but only
following the rest. If they have been trained to speak exactly together,
his ear will also at once detect any erroneous answer which any one may
give. He takes down the figures given by the majority on his own slate,
and reads them aloud.

"This is the answer obtained by the majority; it is undoubtedly right.
Those who have different answers may sit."

These directions, if understood and obeyed, would divide the class
evidently into two portions. Those standing have their work done, and
done correctly, and those sitting have some excuse or error to be
examined. A new lesson may now be assigned, and the first portion may be
dismissed, which in a well-regulated school will be two thirds of the
class. Their slates may be slightly examined as they pass by the teacher
on their way to their seats to see that all is fair; but it will be safe
to take it for granted that a result in which a majority agree will be
right. Truth is consistent with itself, but error, in such a case, never
is. This the teacher can at any time show by comparing the answers that
are wrong; they will always be found, not only to differ from the
correct result, but to contradict each other.

The teacher may now, if he pleases, after the majority of the class have
gone, hear the reasons of those who were unprepared, and look for the
errors of those whose work was incorrect; but it is better to spend as
little time as possible in such a way. If a scholar is not prepared, it
is not of much consequence whether it is because he forgot his book or
mistook the lesson; or if it is ascertained that his answer is
incorrect, it is ordinarily a mere waste of time to search for the
particular error.

"I have looked over my work, sir," says the boy, perhaps, "and I can not
find where it is wrong." He means by it that he does not believe that it
is wrong.

"It is no matter if you can not," would be the proper reply, "since it
certainly is wrong; you have made a mistake in adding somewhere, but it
is not worth while for me to spend two or three minutes apiece with all
of you to ascertain where. Try to be careful next time."

Indeed the teacher should understand and remember what many teachers are
very prone to forget, namely, that the mere fact of finding an
arithmetical error in a pupil's work on the slate, and pointing it out
to him, has very little effect in correcting the false habit in his mind
from which it arose.

The cases of those who are unprepared at a recitation ought by no means
to be passed by unnoticed, although it would be unwise to spend much
time in examining each in detail.

"It is not of much consequence," the teacher might say, "whether you
have good excuses or bad, so long as you are not prepared. In future
life you will certainly be unsuccessful if you fail, no matter for what
reason, to discharge the duties which devolve upon you. A carpenter, for
instance, would certainly lose his custom if he should not perform his
work faithfully and in season. Excuses, no matter how reasonable, will
do him little good. It is just so in respect to punctuality in time as
well as in respect to performance of duty. What we want is that every
boy should be in his place at the proper moment; not that he should be
late, and have good excuses for it. When you come to be men, tardiness
will always be punished. Excuses will not help the matter at all.
Suppose, hereafter, when you are about to take a journey, you reach the
pier five minutes after the steamer has gone, what good will excuses do
you? There you are, left hopelessly behind, no matter if your excuses
are the best in the world. So in this school. I want good punctuality
and good recitations, not good excuses. I hope every one will be
prepared to-morrow."

[Illustration]

It is not probable, however, that every one would be prepared the next
day in such a case, but by acting steadily on these principles the
number of delinquencies would be so much diminished that the very few
which should be left could easily be examined in detail, and the
remedies applied.

Simultaneous recitation, by which I mean the practice of addressing a
question to all the class to be answered by all together, is a practice
which has been for some years rapidly extending in our schools, and, if
adopted with proper limits and restrictions, is attended with great
advantage. The teacher must guard against some dangers, however, which
will be likely to attend it.

1. Some will answer very eagerly, instantly after the question is
completed. They wish to show their superior readiness. Let the teacher
mention this, expose kindly the motive which leads to it, and tell them
it is as irregular to answer before the rest as after them.

2. Some will defer their answers until they can catch those of their
comrades for a guide. Let the teacher mention this fault, expose the
motive which leads to it, and tell them that if they do not answer
independently and at once, they had better not answer at all.

3. Some will not answer at all. The teacher can see by looking around
the room who do not, for they can not counterfeit the proper motion of
the lips with promptness and decision unless they know what the answer
is to be. He ought occasionally to say to such a one, "I perceive you do
not answer," and ask him questions individually.

4. In some cases there is danger of confusion in the answers, from the
fact that the question may be of such a nature that the answer is long,
and may by different individuals be differently expressed. This evil
must be guarded against by so shaping the question as to admit of a
reply in a single word. In reading large numbers, for example, each
figure may be called for by itself, or they may be given one after
another, the pupils keeping exact time. When it is desirable to ask a
question to which the answer is necessarily long it may be addressed to
an individual, or the whole class may write their replies, which may
then be read in succession.

In a great many cases where simultaneous answering is practiced, after a
short time the evils above specified are allowed to grow, until at last
some half a dozen bright members of a class answer for all, the rest
dragging after them, echoing their replies, or ceasing to take any
interest in an exercise which brings no personal and individual
responsibility upon them. To prevent this, the teacher should exercise
double vigilance at such a time. He should often address questions to
individuals alone, especially to those most likely to be inattentive and
careless, and guard against the ingress of every abuse which might,
without close vigilance, appear.

With these cautions, the method here alluded to will be found to be of
very great advantage in many studies; for example, all the arithmetical
tables may be recited in this way; words may be spelled, answers to sums
given, columns of figures added, or numbers multiplied, and many
questions in history, geography, and other miscellaneous studies
answered, especially the general questions asked for the purpose of a
review.

But, besides being useful as a mode of examination, this plan of
answering questions simultaneously is a very important means of fixing
in the mind any facts which the teacher may communicate to his pupils.
If, for instance, he says some day to a class that Vasco de Gama was the
discoverer of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, and leaves it
here, in a few days not one in twenty will recollect the name. But let
him call upon them all to spell it simultaneously, and then to pronounce
it distinctly three or four times in concert, and the word will be very
strongly impressed upon their minds. The reflecting teacher will find a
thousand cases in the instruction of his classes, and in his general
exercises in the school, in which this principle will be of great
utility. It is universal in its application. What we _say_ we fix, by
the very act of saying it, in the mind. Hence, reading aloud, though a
slower, is a far more thorough method of acquiring knowledge than
reading silently, and it is better, in almost all cases, whether in the
family, or in Sabbath or common schools, when general instructions are
given, to have the leading points fixed in the mind by questions
answered simultaneously.

But we are wandering a little from our subject, which is, in this part
of our chapter, the methods of _examining_ a class, not of giving or
fixing instructions.

Another mode of examining classes, which it is important to describe,
consists in requiring _written answers_ to the questions asked. The form
and manner in which this plan may be adopted is various. The class may
bring their slates to the recitation, and the teacher may propose
questions successively, the answers to which all the class may write,
numbering them carefully. After a dozen answers are written, the teacher
may call at random for them, or he may repeat a question, and ask each
pupil to read the answer he had written, or he may examine the slates.
Perhaps this method may be very successfully employed in reviews by
dictating to the class a list of questions relating to the ground they
have gone over for a week, and then instructing them to prepare answers
written out at length, and to bring them in at the next exercise. This
method may be made more formal still by requiring a class to write a
full and regular abstract of all they have learned during a specified
time. The practice of thus reducing to writing what has been learned
will be attended with many advantages so obvious that they need not be
described.

It will be perceived that three methods of examining classes have now
been named, and these will afford the teacher the means of introducing a
very great variety in his mode of conducting his recitations, while he
still carries his class forward steadily in their prescribed course.
Each is attended with its peculiar advantages. The _single replies,_
coming from individuals specially addressed, are more rigid, and more to
be relied upon, but they consume a great deal of time, and, while one is
questioned, it requires much skill to keep up interest in the rest. The
_simultaneous answers_ of a class awaken more general interest, but it
is difficult, without special care, to secure by this means a special
examination of all. The _written replies_ are more thorough, but they
require more time and attention, and while they habituate the pupil to
express himself in writing, they would, if exclusively adopted, fail to
accustom him to an equally important practice, that of the oral
communication of his thoughts. A constant variety, of which these three
methods should be the elements, is unquestionably the best mode. We not
only, by this means, secure in a great degree the advantages which each
is fitted to produce, but we gain also the additional advantage and
interest of variety.

By these, and perhaps by other means, it is the duty of the teacher to
satisfy himself that his pupils are really attentive to their duties.
It is not perhaps necessary that every individual should be every day
minutely examined; this is, in many cases, impossible; but the system of
examination should be so framed and so administered as to be daily felt
by all, and to bring upon every one a daily responsibility.

       *       *       *       *       *

We come now to consider the second general head which was to be
discussed in this chapter.

The study of books alone is insufficient to give knowledge to the young.
In the first stage, learning to read a book is of no use whatever
without the voice of the living teacher. The child can not take a step
alone. As the pupil, however, advances in his course, his dependence
upon his teacher for guidance and help continually diminishes, until at
last the scholar sits in his solitary study, with no companion but his
books, and desiring, for a solution of every difficulty, nothing but a
larger library. In schools, however, the pupils have made so little
progress in this course, that they all need more or less of the oral
assistance of a teacher. Difficulties must be explained; questions must
be answered; the path must be smoothed, and the way pointed out by a
guide who has traveled it before, or it will be impossible for the pupil
to go on. This is the part of our subject which we now approach.

The great principle which is to guide the teacher in this part of his
duty is this: _Assist your pupils in such a way as to lead them, as soon
as possible, to do without assistance._ This is fundamental. In a short
time they will be away from your reach; they will have no teacher to
consult; and unless you teach them how to understand books themselves,
they must necessarily stop suddenly in their course the moment you cease
to help them forward. I shall proceed, therefore, to consider the
subject in the following plan:

1. Means of exciting interest in study.

2. The kind and decree of assistance to be rendered.

3. Miscellaneous suggestions.

1. Interesting the pupils in their studies. There are various
principles of human nature which may be of great avail in accomplishing
this object. Making intellectual effort and acquiring knowledge are
always pleasant to the human mind, unless some peculiar circumstances
render them otherwise. The teacher has, therefore, only to remove
obstructions and sources of pain, and the employment of his pupils will
be of itself a pleasure.

"I am going to give you a new exercise to-day," said a teacher to a
class of boys in Latin. "I am going to have you parse your whole lesson
in writing. It will be difficult, but I think you may be able to
accomplish it."

The class looked surprised. They did not know _what parsing in writing_
could be.

"You may first, when you take your seats, and are ready to prepare the
lesson, write upon your slates a list of the ten first nouns that you
find in the lesson, arranging them in a column. Do you understand so
far?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then rule lines for another column, just beyond this. In parsing nouns,
what is the first particular to be named?"

"What the noun is from."

"Yes; that is, its nominative. Now you may write, at the head of the
first column, the word _Nouns_, and at the head of the second, _Nom._,
for nominative. Then rule a line for the third column. What shall this
contain!" "The declension." "Yes; and the fourth?" "Gender." "The
fifth?" "Number."

In the same manner the other columns were designated. The sixth was to
contain case; the seventh, the word with which the noun was connected in
construction; and the eighth, a reference to the rule.

"Now I wish you," continued the teacher, "to fill up such a table as
this with _ten_ nouns. Do you understand how I mean?"

"Yes, sir;" "No, sir," they answered, variously.

"All who do understand may take their seats, as I wish to give as little
explanation as possible. The more you can depend upon yourselves, the
better."

Those who saw clearly what was to be done left the class, and the
teacher continued his explanation to those who were left behind. He made
the plan perfectly clear to them by taking a particular noun and running
it through the table, showing what should be written opposite to the
word in all the columns, and then dismissed them.

The class separated, as every class would, in such a case, with a strong
feeling of interest in the work before them. It was not so difficult as
to perplex them, and yet it required attention and care. They were
interested and pleased--pleased with the effort which it required them
to make, and they anticipated, with interest and pleasure, the time of
coming again to the class to report and compare their work.

When the time for the class came, the teacher addressed them somewhat as
follows:

"Before looking at your slates, I am going to predict what the faults
are. I have not seen any of your work, but shall judge altogether from
my general knowledge of school-boys, and the difficulties I know they
meet with. Do you think I shall succeed?"

The scholars made no reply, and an unskillful teacher would imagine that
time spent in such remarks would be wholly wasted. By no means. The
influence of them was to awaken universal interest in the approaching
examination of the slates. Every scholar would be intent, watching, with
eager interest, to see whether the imagined faults would be found upon
his work. The class was, by that single pleasant remark, put into the
best possible state for receiving the criticisms of the teacher.

"The first fault which I suppose will be found is that some are
unfinished."

The scholars looked surprised. They did not expect to have that called
a fault.

"How many plead guilty to it?"

A few raised their hands, and the teacher continued:

"I suppose that some will be found partly effaced. The slates were not
laid away carefully, or they were not clean, so that the writing is not
distinct. How many find this the case with their work?"

"I suppose that, in some cases, the lines will not be perpendicular, but
will slant, probably toward the left, like writing.

"I suppose, also, that, in some cases, the writing will be careless, so
that I can not easily read it. How many plead guilty to this?"

After mentioning such other faults as occurred to him, relating chiefly
to the form of the table, and the mere mechanical execution of the work,
he said,

"I think I shall not look at your slates to-day. You can all see, I have
no doubt, how you can considerably improve them in mechanical execution
in your next lesson; and I suppose you would a little prefer that I
should not see your first imperfect efforts. In fact, I should rather
not see them. At the next recitation they probably will be much better."

One important means by which the teacher may make his scholars careful
of their reputation is to show them, thus, that he is careful of it
himself.

Now in such a case as this, for it is, except in the principles which it
is intended to illustrate, imaginary, a very strong interest would be
awakened in the class in the work assigned them. Intellectual effort in
new and constantly varied modes is in itself a pleasure, and this
pleasure the teacher may deepen and increase very easily by a little
dexterous management, designed to awaken curiosity and concentrate
attention. It ought, however, to be constantly borne in mind that this
variety should be confined to the modes of pursuing an object--the
object itself being permanent, and constant, and steadily pursued. For
instance, if a little class are to be taught simple addition, after the
process is once explained, which may be done, perhaps, in two or three
lessons, they will need many days of patient practice to render it
familiar, to impress it firmly in their recollection, and to enable them
to work with rapidity. Now this object must be steadily pursued. It
would be very unwise for the teacher to say to himself, My class are
tired of addition; I must carry them on to subtraction, or give them
some other study. It would be equally unwise to keep them many days
performing example after example in monotonous succession, each lesson a
mere repetition of the last. He must steadily pursue his object of
familiarizing them fully with this elementary process, but he may give
variety and spirit to the work by changing occasionally the modes. One
week He may dictate examples to them, and let them come together to
compare their results, one of the class being appointed to keep a list
of all who are correct each day. At another time each one may write an
example, which he may read aloud to all the others, to be performed and
brought in at the next time. Again, he may let them work on paper with
pen and ink, that he may see how few mistakes they make, as mistakes in
ink can not be easily removed. He may excite interest by devising
ingenious examples, such as finding out how much all the numbers from
one to fifty will make when added together, or the amount of the ages of
the whole class, or any such investigation, the result of which they
might feel an interest in learning. Thus the object is steadily pursued,
though the means of pursuing it are constantly changing. We have the
advantage of regular progress in the acquisition of knowledge truly
valuable, while this progress is made with all the spirit and interest
which variety can give.

The necessity of making such efforts as this, however, to keep up the
interest of the class in their work, and to make it pleasant to them,
will depend altogether upon circumstances; or, rather, it will vary
much with circumstances. A class of pupils somewhat advanced in their
studies, and understanding and feeling the value of knowledge, will need
very little of such effort as this; while young and giddy children, who
have been accustomed to dislike books and school, and every thing
connected with them, will need more. It ought, however, in all cases, to
be made a means, not an end--the means to lead on a pupil to an
_interest in progress in knowledge itself,_ which is, after all, the
great motive which ought to be brought as soon and as extensively as
possible to operate in the school-room.

Another way to awaken interest in the studies of the school is to bring
out, as frequently and as distinctly as possible, the connection between
these studies and the practical business of life. The events which are
occurring around you, and which interest the community in which you are
placed, may, by a little ingenuity, be connected in a thousand ways with
the studies of the school. If the practice, which has been already
repeatedly recommended, of appropriating a quarter of an hour each day
to a general exercise, should be adopted, it will afford great
facilities for doing this.

There is no branch of study attended to in school which may, by
judicious efforts, be made more effectual in accomplishing this object,
leading the pupils to see the practical utility and the value of
knowledge, than composition. If such subjects as are suitable themes for
_moral essays_ are assigned, the scholars will indeed dislike the work
of writing, and derive little benefit from it. The mass of pupils in our
schools are not to be writers of moral essays or orations, and they do
not need to form that style of empty, florid, verbose declamation which
the practice of writing composition in our schools, as it is too
frequently managed, tends to form. Assign practical subjects--subjects
relating to the business of the school, or the events taking place
around you. Is there a question before the community on the subject of
the location of a new school-house? Assign it to your pupils as a
question for discussion, and direct them not to write empty declamation,
but to obtain from their parents the real arguments in the case, and to
present them distinctly and clearly, and in simple language, to their
companions. Was a building burned by lightning in the neighborhood? Let
those who saw the scene describe it, their productions to be read by the
teacher aloud, and let them see that clear descriptions please, and that
good legible writing can be read fluently, and that correct spelling,
and punctuation, and grammar make the article go smoothly and
pleasantly, and enable it to produce its full effect. Is the erection of
a public building going forward in the neighborhood of your school? You
can make it a very fruitful source of subjects and questions to give
interest and impulse to the studies of the school-room. Your classes in
geometry may measure, your arithmeticians may calculate and make
estimates, your writers may describe its progress from week to week, and
anticipate the scenes which it will in future years exhibit.

By such means the practical bearings and relations of the studies of the
school-room may be constantly kept in view; but I ought to guard the
teacher, while on this subject, most distinctly against the danger of
making the school-room a scene of literary amusement instead of study.
These means of awakening interest and relieving the tedium of the
uninterrupted and monotonous study of text-books must not encroach on
the regular duties of the school. They must be brought forward with
judgment and moderation, and made subordinate and subservient to these
regular duties. Their design is to give spirit and interest, and a
feeling of practical utility to what the pupils are doing; and if
resorted to with these restrictions and within these limits, they will
produce powerful, but safe results.

Another way to excite interest, and that of the right kind, in school,
is not to _remove_ difficulties, but to teach the pupils how to
_surmount_ them. A text-book so contrived as to make study mere play,
and to dispense with thought and effort, is the worst text-book that can
be made, and the surest to be, in the end, a dull one. The great source
of literary enjoyment, which is the successful exercise of intellectual
power, is, by such a mode of presenting a subject, cut off. Secure,
therefore, severe study. Let the pupil see that you are aiming to secure
it, and that the pleasure which you expect that they will receive is
that of firmly and patiently encountering and overcoming difficulty; of
penetrating, by steady and persevering effort, into regions from which
the idle and the inefficient are debarred, and that it is your province
to lead them forward, not to carry them. They will soon understand this,
and like it.

Never underrate the difficulties which your pupils will have to
encounter, or try to persuade them that what you assign is _easy_. Doing
easy things is generally dull work, and it is especially discouraging
and disheartening for a pupil to spend his strength in doing what is
really difficult for him when his instructor, by calling his work easy,
gives him no credit for what may have been severe and protracted labor.
If a thing is really hard for the pupil, his teacher ought to know it
and admit it. The child then feels that he has some sympathy.

It is astonishing how great an influence may be exerted over a child by
his simply knowing that his efforts are observed and appreciated. You
pass a boy in the street wheeling a heavy load in a barrow; now simply
stop to look at him, with a countenance which says, "That is a heavy
load; I should not think that boy could wheel it;" and how quick will
your look give fresh strength and vigor to his efforts. On the other
hand, when, in such a case, the boy is faltering under his load, try the
effect of telling him, "Why, that is not heavy; you can wheel it easily
enough; trundle it along." The poor boy will drop his load, disheartened
and discouraged, and sit down upon it in despair. It is so in respect
to the action of the young in all cases. They are animated and incited
by being told _in the right way_ that they have something difficult to
do. A boy is performing some service for you. He is watering your horse,
perhaps, at a well by the road-side as you are traveling. Say to him,
"Hold up the pail high, so that the horse can drink; it is not heavy."

[Illustration]

He will be discouraged, and will be ready to set the pail down. Say to
him, on the other hand, "I had better dismount myself. I don't think you
can hold the pail up. It is very heavy;" and his eye will brighten up at
once. "Oh no, sir," he will reply, "I can hold it very easily." Hence,
even if the work you are assigning to a class _is_ easy, do not tell
them so unless you wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in
doing it; and if you wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your
work difficult, and let them see that you know it is so; not so
difficult as to tax their powers too heavily, but enough so to require a
vigorous and persevering effort. Let them distinctly understand, too,
that you know it is difficult, that you mean to make it so, but that
they have your sympathy and encouragement in the efforts which it calls
them to make.

You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I
have described by some such experiment as the following. Select two
classes not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each
of them the following example in addition:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
  2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1
  3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2
    etc., etc.


The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating
the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or,
if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this:

  Multiply 123456789
        by 123456789
           ---------


Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the
pupils as follows:

"I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult
one that can be made with the number of figures contained in it, and I
do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be
surprised if every answer should contain mistakes."

To the other class say as follows:

"I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful
to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had
heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you
can all do it correctly, if you really try."

Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with
ardor and alacrity, determined to show you that they can do work, even
if it is difficult; and if they succeed, they come to the class the next
day with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something which you
admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second class
will go to their seats with murmuring looks and words, and with a
hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they
have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is
really difficult for them; and they have to be perplexed and wearied
with the work, without having, at last, even the little satisfaction of
knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they
had to contend.

2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the
pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a
teacher's work. The great difference which exists among teachers in
regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so
striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here
is of more avail in deciding the question of success or failure than any
thing besides. The first great principle is, however, simple and
effectual.

_(1.) Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so
short that the pupil can easily take them._

Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and
their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of
thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly
trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analogous to that of
the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by
his side, wearying and exhausting himself with fruitless efforts to
reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly as a full-grown man.

But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process so as to make
each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example. I
will suppose that the teacher of a common school undertakes to show his
boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but elementary
arithmetic, how longitude is determined by means of the eclipses of
Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, but still one which,
like all others, may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded
to, easily explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a
general exercise; perhaps the question was asked in writing by one of
the older boys. I will present the explanation chiefly in the form of
question and answer, that it may be seen that the steps are so short
that the boys may take them themselves.

"Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?"

"West," answer two or three of the boys.

In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be
general, so that throughout the school there should be a spirited
interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case if a
small number of the boys only take part in the answers, and many
teachers complain that when they try this experiment they can seldom
induce many of the pupils to take a part.

The reason ordinarily is that they say that _any_ of the boys may answer
instead of that _all_ of them may. The boys do not get the idea that it
is wished that a universal reply should come from all parts of the room,
in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were feeble
in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say,

"I only heard one or two answers; do not more of you know where the
Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think and answer together? Which way
are they from us?"

"West," answer a large number of boys.

"You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty
answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have _every
one in the room_ answer, and all precisely together."

He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar
effort will always succeed.

"Now does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky
Mountains, or over us, first?"

To this question the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not
reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and
others still, "The sun does not move at all."

"It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth
turns round, presenting the various countries in succession to the sun,
but the effect is precisely the same as it would be if the sun moved,
and, accordingly, I use that language. Now how long does it take the sun
to pass round the earth?"

"Twenty-four hours."

"Does he go toward the west or toward the east from us?"

"Toward the west."

But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be
sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil,
by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be
explained.

"Will the sun go toward or from the Rocky Mountains after leaving us?"

"How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe and come to
us again?"

"How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?"

"How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?"

No answer.

"You can not tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose, then, the
Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the
sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?"

"The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees--360 in all.
How many will the sun pass in going half round?" "In going quarter
round?"

"Ninety degrees, then, make one quarter of the circumference of the
globe. This, you have already said, will take six hours. In one hour,
then, how many degrees will the sun pass over?"

Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question on the
principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the
pupils _can_ take them.

"How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?"

"Forty-five."

"How large a part of that, then, will he pass in one hour?"

"One third of it."

"And what is one third of forty-five?"

The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell
for a moment on the general truth thus deduced, that the sun, in passing
round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour.

"Suppose, then, it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the River
Mississippi, how many degrees west of us would the river be?"

Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact that the motion of the
sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two
places, the teacher must dismiss the subject for a day, and when the
next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would, perhaps, take
up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure _of time._

"Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?"

"Is he ever exactly south of us?"

"When he is exactly south of us, or, in other words, exactly opposite to
us in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian; for
the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any
place."

There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the
most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point, for
instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were
necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the
youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the
room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are
not in his meridian. But to proceed:

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, in the south, at the highest
point to which he rises, what o'clock is it?"

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, can he be opposite to the Rocky
Mountains?"

"Does he get opposite to the Rocky Mountains before or after he is
opposite to us?"

"When he is opposite to the Rocky Mountains, what o'clock is it there?"

"Is it twelve o'clock here, then, before or after it is twelve o'clock
there?"

"Suppose the River Mississippi is fifteen degrees from us, how long is
it twelve o'clock here before it is twelve o'clock there?"

"When it is twelve o'clock here, then, what time will it be there?"

Some will probably answer "one," and some "eleven." If so, the step is
too long, and may be subdivided thus:

"When it is noon here, is the sun going toward the Mississippi, or has
he passed it?"

"Then has noon gone by at that river, or has it not yet come?"

"Then will it be one hour before or one hour after noon?"

"Then will it be eleven or one?"

Such minuteness and simplicity would, in ordinary cases, not be
necessary. I go into it here merely to show how, by simply subdividing
the steps, a subject ordinarily perplexing may be made plain. The reader
will observe that in the above there are no explanations by the
teacher--there are not even leading questions; that is, there are no
questions the form of which suggests the answers desired. The pupil goes
on from step to step simply because he has but one short step to take at
a time.

"Can it be noon, then," continues the teacher, "here and at a place
fifteen degrees west of us at the same time?"

"Can it be noon here and at a place ten miles west of us at the same
time?"

It is unnecessary to continue the illustration, for it will be very
evident to every reader that, by going forward in this way, the whole
subject may be laid out before the pupils so that they shall perfectly
understand it. They can, by a series of questions like the above, be led
to see, by their own reasoning, that time, as denoted by the clock, must
differ in every two places not upon the same meridian, and that the
difference must be exactly proportional to the difference of longitude.
So that a watch which is right in one place can not, strictly speaking,
be right in any other place east or west of the first; and that, if the
time of day at two places can be compared, either by taking a
chronometer from one to another, or by observing some celestial
phenomenon, like the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, and ascertaining
precisely the time of their occurrence, according to the reckoning at
both, the distance east or west by degrees may be determined. The reader
will observe, too, that the method by which this explanation is made is
strictly in accordance with the principle I am illustrating, which is by
simply _dividing the process into short steps._ There is no ingenious
reasoning on the part of the teacher, no happy illustrations, no
apparatus, no diagrams. It is a pure process of mathematical reasoning,
made clear and easy by _simple analysis._

In applying this method, however, the teacher should be very careful not
to subdivide too much. It is best that the pupils should walk as fast as
they can. The object of the teacher should be to smooth the path not
much more than barely enough to enable the pupil to go on. He should not
endeavor to make it very easy.

(2.) Truths must not only be taught to the pupils, but they must
_fixed_, and _made familiar._ This is a point which seems to be very
generally overlooked.

"Can you say the Multiplication Table?" said a teacher to a boy who was
standing before him in his class.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I should like to have you say the line beginning nine times one."

The boy repeated it slowly, but correctly.

"Now I should like to have you try again, and I will, at the same time,
say another line, to see if I can put you out."

The boy looked surprised. The idea of his teacher's trying to perplex
and embarrass him was entirely new.

"You must not be afraid," said the teacher. "You will undoubtedly not
succeed in getting through, but you will not be to blame for the
failure. I only try it as a sort of intellectual experiment."

The boy accordingly began again, but was soon completely confused by the
teacher's accompaniment. He stopped in the middle of his line, saying,

"I could say it, only you put me out."

"Well, now try to say the Alphabet, and let me see if I can put you out
there."

As might have been expected, the teacher failed. The boy went regularly
onward to the end.

"You see, now," said the teacher to the class who had witnessed the
experiment, "that this boy knows his Alphabet in a different sense from
that in which he knows his Multiplication Table. In the latter, his
knowledge is only imperfectly his own; he can make use of it only under
favorable circumstances. In the former it is entirely his own;
circumstances have no control over him."

A child has a lesson in Latin Grammar to recite. She hesitates and
stammers, miscalls the cases, and then corrects herself, and, if she
gets through at last, she considers herself as having recited well, and
very many teachers would consider it well too. If she hesitates a little
longer than usual in trying to summon to her recollection a particular
word, she says, perhaps, "Don't tell me," and if she happens at last to
guess right, she takes her book with a countenance beaming with
satisfaction.

"Suppose you had the care of an infant school," might the instructor say
to such a scholar, "and were endeavoring to teach a little child to
count, and she should recite her lesson to you in this way, 'One, two,
four--no, three--one, two, three----stop, don't tell me--five--no,
four--four--five--------I shall think in a minute--six--is that right?
five, six,' &c. Should you call that reciting well?"

Nothing is more common than for pupils to say, when they fail of
reciting their lesson, that they could say it at their seats, but that
they can not now say it before the class. When such a thing is said for
the first time it should not be severely reproved, because nine children
in ten honestly think that if the lesson were learned so that it could
be recited any where, their duty is discharged. But it should be kindly,
though distinctly explained to them, that in the business of life they
must have their knowledge so much at command that they can use it at all
times and in all circumstances, or it will do them little good.

One of the most common cases of difficulty in pursuing mathematical
studies, or studies of any kind where the succeeding lessons depend upon
those which precede, is the fact that the pupil, though he may
understand what precedes, is not _familiar_ with it. This is very
strikingly the case with Geometry. The class study the definitions, and
the teacher supposes they fully understand them; in fact, they do
_understand_ them, but the name and the thing are so feebly connected in
their minds that a direct effort and a short pause are necessary to
recall the idea when they hear or see the word. When they come on,
therefore, to the demonstrations, which in themselves would be difficult
enough, they have double duty to perform. The words used do not readily
suggest the idea, and the connection of the ideas requires careful
study. Under this double burden many a young geometrician sinks
discouraged.

A class should go on slowly, and dwell on details so long as to fix
firmly and make perfectly familiar whatever they undertake to learn. In
this manner the knowledge they acquire will become their own. It will be
incorporated, as it were, into their very minds, and they can not
afterward be deprived of it.

The exercises which have for their object this rendering familiar what
has been learned may be so varied as to interest the pupil very much,
instead of being tiresome, as it might at first be supposed.

Suppose, for instance, a teacher has explained to a large class in
grammar the difference between an adjective and an adverb; if he leave
it here, in a fortnight one half of the pupils would have forgotten the
distinction, but by dwelling upon it a few lessons he may fix it
forever. The first lesson might be to require the pupils to write twenty
short sentences containing only adjectives. The second to write twenty
containing only adverbs. The third to write sentences in two forms, one
containing the adjective, and the other expressing the same idea by
means of the adverb, arranging them in two columns, thus:

  He writes well.  |  His writing is good.

Again, they may make out a list of adjectives, with the adverbs derived
from each in another column. Then they may classify adverbs on the
principle of their meaning, or according to their termination. The
exercise may be infinitely varied, and yet the object of the whole may
be to make _perfectly familiar_, and to fix forever in the mind the
distinction explained.

These two points seem to me to be fundamental, so far as assisting
pupils through the difficulties which lie in their way is concerned.
Diminish the difficulties as far as is necessary by shortening and
simplifying the steps, and make thorough work as you go on. These
principles, carried steadily into practice, will be effectual in leading
any mind through any difficulties which may occur. And though they can
not, perhaps, be fully applied to every mind in a large school, yet they
can be so far acted upon in reference to the whole mass as to accomplish
the object for a very large majority.

3. _General cautions_. A few miscellaneous suggestions, which we shall
include under this head, will conclude this chapter.

(1.) Never do any thing _for_ a scholar, but teach him to do it for
himself. How many cases occur in the schools of our country where the
boy brings his slate to the teacher, saying he can not do a certain sum.
The teacher takes the slate and pencil, performs the work in silence,
brings the result, and returns the slate to the hands of his pupil, who
walks off to his seat, and goes to work on the next example, perfectly
satisfied with the manner in which he is passing on. A man who has not
done this a hundred times himself will hardly believe it possible that
such a practice can prevail, it is so evidently a mere waste of time
both for master and scholar.

(2.) Never get out of patience with dullness. Perhaps I ought to say,
never get out of patience with any thing. That would, perhaps, be the
wisest rule. But, above all things, remember that dullness and
stupidity--and you will certainly find them in every school--are the
very last things to get out of patience with. If the Creator has so
formed the mind of a boy that he must go through life slowly and with
difficulty, impeded by obstructions which others do not feel, and
depressed by discouragements which others never know, his lot is surely
hard enough without having you to add to it the trials and suffering
which sarcasm and reproach from you can heap upon him. Look over your
school-room, therefore, and wherever you find one whom you perceive the
Creator to have endued with less intellectual power than others, fix
your eye upon him with an expression of kindness and sympathy. Such a
boy will have suffering enough from the selfish tyranny of his
companions; he ought to find in you a protector and friend. One of the
greatest enjoyments which a teacher's life affords is the interest of
seeking out such a one, bowed down with burdens of depression and
discouragement, unaccustomed to sympathy and kindness, and expecting
nothing for the future but a weary continuation of the cheerless toils
which have imbittered the past; and the pleasure of taking off the
burden, of surprising the timid, disheartened sufferer by kind words and
cheering looks, and of seeing in his countenance the expression of ease
and even of happiness gradually returning.

(3.) The teacher should be interested in _all_ his scholars, and aim
equally to secure the progress of all. Let there be no neglected ones in
the school-room. We should always remember that, however unpleasant in
countenance and manners that bashful boy in the corner may be, or
however repulsive in appearance, or unhappy in disposition, that girl,
seeming to be interested in nobody, and nobody appearing interested in
her, they still have, each of them, a mother, who loves her own child,
and takes a deep and constant interest in its history. Those mothers
have a right, too, that their children should receive their full share
of attention in a school which has been established for the common and
equal benefit of all.

(4.) Do not hope or attempt to make all your pupils alike. Providence
has determined that human minds should differ from each other for the
very purpose of giving variety and interest to this busy scene of life.
Now if it were possible for a teacher so to plan his operations as to
send his pupils forth upon the community formed on the same model, as if
they were made by machinery, he would do so much toward spoiling one of
the wisest of the plans which the Almighty has formed for making this
world a happy scene. Let it be the teacher's aim to co-operate with, not
vainly to attempt to thwart, the designs of Providence. We should bring
out those powers with which the Creator has endued the minds placed
under our control. We must open our garden to such influences as shall
bring forward all the plants, each in a way corresponding to its own
nature. It is impossible if it were wise, and it would be foolish if it
were possible, to stimulate, by artificial means, the rose, in hope of
its reaching the size and magnitude of the apple-tree, or to try to
cultivate the fig and the orange where wheat only will grow. No; it
should be the teacher's main design to shelter his pupils from every
deleterious influence, and to bring every thing to bear upon the
community of minds before him which will encourage in each one the
development of its own native powers. For the rest, he must remember
that his province is to cultivate, not to create.

Error on this point is very common. Many teachers, even among those who
have taken high rank through the success with which they have labored in
the field, have wasted much time in attempting to do what never can be
done, to form the character of those brought under their influence after
a certain uniform model, which they have conceived as the standard of
excellence. Their pupils must write just such a hand, they must compose
in just such a style, they must be similar in sentiment and feeling, and
their manners must be formed according to a fixed and uniform model; and
when, in such a case, a pupil comes under their charge whom Providence
has designed to be entirely different from the beau ideal adopted as the
standard, more time, and pains, and anxious solicitude is wasted in vain
attempts to produce the desired conformity than half the school require
beside.

(5.) Do not allow the faults or obliquities of character, or the
intellectual or moral wants of any individual of your pupils to engross
a disproportionate share of your time. I have already said that those
who are peculiarly in need of sympathy or help should receive the
special attention they seem to require; what I mean to say now is, do
not carry this to an extreme. When a parent sends you a pupil who, in
consequence of neglect or mismanagement at home, has become wild and
ungovernable, and full of all sorts of wickedness, he has no right to
expect that you shall turn your attention away from the wide field
which, in your whole school-room, lies before you, to spend your time,
and exhaust your spirits and strength in endeavoring to repair the
injuries which his own neglect has occasioned. When you open a school,
you do not engage, either openly or tacitly, to make every pupil who may
be sent to you a learned or a virtuous man. You do engage to give them
all faithful instruction, and to bestow upon each such a degree of
attention as is consistent with the claims of the rest. But it is both
unwise and unjust to neglect the many trees in your nursery which, by
ordinary attention, may be made to grow straight and tall, and to bear
good fruit, that you may waste your labor upon a crooked stick, from
which all your toil can secure very little beauty or fruitfulness.

Let no one now understand me to say that such cases are to be neglected.
I admit the propriety, and, in fact, have urged the duty, of paying to
them a little more than their due share of attention. What I now condemn
is the practice, of which all teachers are in danger, of devoting such a
disproportionate and unreasonable degree of attention to them as to
encroach upon their duties to others. The school, the whole school, is
your field, the elevation _of the mass_ in knowledge and virtue, and no
individual instance, either of dullness or precocity, should draw you
away from its steady pursuit.

(6.) The teacher should guard against unnecessarily imbibing those
faulty mental habits to which his station and employment expose him.
Accustomed to command, and to hold intercourse with minds which are
immature and feeble compared with our own, we gradually acquire habits
that the rough collisions and the friction of active life prevent from
gathering around other men. Narrow-minded prejudices and prepossessions
are imbibed through the facility with which, in our own little
community, we adopt and maintain opinions. A too strong confidence in
our own views on every subject almost inevitably comes from never
hearing our opinions contradicted or called in question, and we express
those opinions in a tone of authority, and even sometimes of arrogance,
which we acquire in the school-room, for there, when we speak, nobody
can reply.

These peculiarities show themselves first, and, in fact, most commonly,
in the school-room; and the opinions thus formed very often relate to
the studies and management of the school. One has a peculiar mode of
teaching spelling, which is successful almost entirely through the magic
influence of his interest in it, and he thinks no other mode of teaching
this branch is even tolerable. Another must have all his pupils write on
the angular system, or the anti-angular system, and he enters with all
the zeal into a controversy on the subject, as if the destiny of the
whole rising generation depended upon its decision. Tell him that all
that is of any consequence in any handwriting is that it should be
legible, rapid, and uniform, and that, for the rest, it would be better
that every human being should write a different hand, and he looks upon
you with astonishment, wondering that you can not see the vital
importance of the question whether the vertex of an _o_ should, be
pointed or round. So in every thing. He has _his way_ in every minute
particular--a way from which he can not deviate, and to which he wishes
every one else to conform.

This set, formal mannerism is entirely inconsistent with that commanding
intellectual influence which the teacher should exert in the
administration of his school. He should work with what an artist calls
boldness and freedom of touch. Activity and enterprise of mind should
characterize all his measures if he wishes to make bold, original, and
efficient men.

(7.) Assume no false appearances in your school either as to knowledge
or character. Perhaps it may justly be said to be the common practice of
teachers in this country to affect a dignity of deportment in the
presence of their pupils which in other cases is laid aside, and to
pretend to superiority in knowledge and an infallibility of judgment
which no sensible man would claim before other sensible men, but which
an absurd fashion seems to require of the teacher. It can, however,
scarcely be said to be a fashion, for the temptation is almost
exclusively confined to the young and the ignorant, who think they must
make up by appearance what they want in reality. Very few of the older,
and more experienced, and successful instructors in our country fall
into it at all; but some young beginner, whose knowledge is very
limited, and who, in manner and habits, has only just ceased to be a
boy, walks into his school-room with a countenance of forced gravity,
and with a dignified and solemn step, which is ludicrous even to
himself. I describe accurately, for I describe from recollection. This
unnatural, and forced, and ludicrous dignity cleaves to him like a
disease through the whole period of his duty. In the presence of his
scholars he is always under restraint, assuming a stiff and formal
dignity which is as ridiculous as it is unnatural. He is also obliged to
resort to arts which are certainly not very honorable to conceal his
ignorance.

A scholar, for example, brings him a sum in arithmetic which he does not
know how to perform. This may be the case with a most excellent teacher,
and one well qualified for his business. In order to be successful as a
teacher, it is not necessary to understand every thing. Instead,
however, of saying frankly, "I do not understand that example; I will
examine it," he looks at it embarrassed and perplexed, not knowing how
he shall escape the exposure of his ignorance. His first thought is to
give some general directions to the pupil, and send him to his seat to
make a new experiment, hoping that in some way or other, he scarcely
knows how, he will get through; and, at any rate, if he should not, the
teacher thinks that he himself at least gains time by the manoeuvre, and
he is glad to postpone his trouble, though he knows it must soon return.

All efforts to conceal ignorance, and all affectation of knowledge not
possessed, are as unwise as they are dishonest. If a scholar asks a
question which you can not answer, or brings you a difficulty which you
can not solve, say frankly, "I do not know." It is the only way to avoid
continual anxiety and irritation, and the surest means of securing real
respect. Let the scholars understand that the superiority of the teacher
does not consist in his infallibility, or in his universal acquisitions,
but in a well-balanced mind, where the boundary between knowledge and
ignorance is distinctly marked; in a strong desire to go forward in
mental improvement, and in fixed principles of action and systematic
habits. You may even take up in school a study entirely new to you, and
have it understood at the outset that you know no more of it than the
class commencing, but that you can be their guide on account of the
superior maturity and discipline of your powers, and the comparative
ease with which you can meet and overcome difficulties. This is the
understanding which ought always to exist between master and scholars.
The fact that the teacher does not know every thing can not long be
concealed if he tries to conceal it, and in this, as in every other
case, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.




CHAPTER IV.

MORAL DISCIPLINE.


Under the title which I have placed at the head of this chapter I intend
to discuss the methods by which the teacher is to secure a moral
ascendency over his pupils, so that he may lead them to do what is
right, and bring them back to duty when they do what is wrong. I shall
use, in what I have to say, a very plain and familiar style; and as very
much depends not only on the general principles by which the teacher is
actuated, but also on the tone and manner in which, in cases of
discipline, he addresses his pupils, I shall describe particular cases,
real and imaginary, because by this method I can better illustrate the
course to be pursued. I shall also present and illustrate the various
principles which I consider important, and in the order in which they
occur to my mind.

1. The first duty, then, of the teacher when he enters his school is to
beware of the danger of making an unfavorable impression at first upon
his pupils. Many years ago, when I was a child, the teacher of the
school where my early studies were performed closed his connection with
the establishment, and after a short vacation another was expected. On
the appointed day the boys began to collect, some from curiosity, at an
early hour, and many speculations were started as to the character of
the new instructor. We were standing near a table with our hats on--and
our position, and the exact appearance of the group, is indelibly fixed
on my memory--when a small and youthful-looking man entered the room,
and walked up toward us. Supposing him to be some stranger, or, rather,
not making any supposition at all, we stood looking at him as he
approached, and were thunder-struck at hearing him accost us with a
stern voice and sterner brow, "Take off your hats. Take off your hats
and go to your seats." The conviction immediately rushed upon our minds
that this must be our new teacher. The first emotion was that of
surprise, and the second was that of the ludicrous, though I believe we
contrived to smother the laugh until we got out into the open air.

So long since was this little occurrence that I have entirely forgotten
the name of the teacher, and have not the slightest recollection of any
other act in his administration of the school. But this recollection of
his first greeting of his pupils, and the expression of his countenance
at the moment, will go with me to the end of life. So strong are first
impressions.

Be careful, then, when you first see your pupils, that you meet them
with a smile. I do not mean a pretended cordiality, which has no
existence in the heart, but think of the relation which you are to
sustain to them, and think of the very interesting circumstances under
which, for some months at least, your destinies are to be united to
theirs, until you can not help feeling a strong interest in them. Shut
your eyes for a day or two to their faults, if possible, and take an
interest in all their pleasures and pursuits, that the first attitude in
which you exhibit yourself before them may be one which shall allure,
not repel.

2. In endeavoring to correct the faults of your pupils, do not, as many
teachers do, seize only upon _those particular cases_ of transgression
which may happen to come under your notice. These individual instances
are very few, probably, compared with the whole number of faults against
which you ought to exert an influence. And though you perhaps ought not
to neglect those which may accidentally come under your notice, yet the
observing and punishing such cases is a very small part of your duty.

You accidentally hear, I will suppose, as you are walking home from
school, two of your boys in earnest conversation, and one of them uses
profane language. Now the course to be pursued in such a case is, most
evidently, not to call the boy to you the next day and punish him, and
there let the matter rest. This would, perhaps, be better than nothing.
But the chief impression which it would make upon the individual and
upon the other scholars would be, "I must take care how I _let the
master hear me_ use such language again." A wise teacher, who takes
enlarged and extended views of his duty in regard to the moral progress
of his pupils, would act very differently. He would look at the whole
subject. "Does this fault," he would say to himself, "prevail among my
pupils? If so, how extensively? It is comparatively of little
consequence to punish the particular transgression. The great point is
to devise some plan to reach the whole evil, and to correct it if
possible."

In one case where such a circumstance occurred, the teacher managed it
most successfully in the following manner.

He said nothing to the boy, and, in fact, the boy did not know that he
was overheard. He allowed a day or two to elapse, so that the
conversation might be forgotten, and then took an opportunity one day,
after school, when all things had gone on pleasantly, and the school was
about to be closed, to bring forward the whole subject. He told the boys
that he had something to say to them after they had laid by their books
and were ready to go home. The desks were soon closed, and every face in
the room was turned toward the master with a look of fixed attention.
It was almost evening. The sun had gone down. The boys' labors were
over. Their duties for the day were over; their minds were at rest, and
every thing was favorable for making a deep and permanent impression.

"A few days ago," says the teacher, when all was still, "I accidentally
overheard some conversation between two of the boys of this school, and
one of them swore."

There was a pause.

"Perhaps you expect that I am now going to call the boy out and punish
him. Is that what I ought to do?"

There was no answer.

"I think a boy who uses bad language of any kind does what he knows is
wrong. He breaks God's commands. He does what he knows would be
displeasing to his parents, and he sets a bad example. He does wrong,
therefore, and justly deserves punishment."

There were, of course, many boys who felt that they were in danger.
Every one who had used profane language was aware that he might be the
one who had been overheard, and, of course, all were deeply interested
in what the teacher was saying.

"He might, I say," continued the teacher, "justly be punished; but I am
not going to punish him; for if I should, I am afraid that it would only
make him a little more careful hereafter not to commit this sin when I
could possibly be within hearing, instead of persuading him, as I wish
to, to avoid such a sin in future altogether. I am satisfied that that
boy would be far happier, even in this world, if he would make it a
principle always to do his duty, and never, in any case, to do wrong.
And then, when I think how soon he and all of us will be in another
world, where we shall all be judged for what we do here, I feel strongly
desirous of persuading him to abandon entirely this practice. I am
afraid that punishing him now would not do that.

"Besides," continues the teacher, "I think it very probable that there
are many other boys in this school who are sometimes guilty of this
fault, and I have thought that it would be a great deal better and
happier for us all if, instead of punishing this particular boy whom I
have accidentally overheard, and who probably is not more to blame than
many other boys in school, I should bring up the whole subject, and
endeavor to persuade all the boys to reform."

I am aware that there are, unfortunately, in our country a great many
teachers from whose lips such an appeal as this would be wholly in vain.
The man who is accustomed to scold, and storm, and punish with unsparing
severity every transgression, under the influence of irritation and
anger, must not expect that he can win over his pupils to confidence in
him and to the principles of duty by a word. But such an appeal will not
be lost when it comes from a man whose daily and habitual management
corresponds with it. But to return to the story:

The teacher made some farther remarks, explaining the nature of the sin,
not in the language of execration and affected abhorrence, but calmly,
temperately, and without any disposition to make the worst of the
occurrence which had taken place. In concluding what he said, he
addressed the boys as follows:

"Now, boys, the question is, do you wish to abandon this habit or not?
If you do, all is well. I shall immediately forget all the past, and
will do all I can to help you resist and overcome temptation in future.
But all I can do is only to help you; and the first thing to be done, if
you wish to engage in this work of reform, is to acknowledge your fault;
and I should like to know how many are willing to do this."

"I wish all those who are willing to tell me whether they use profane
language would rise."

Every individual but one rose.

"I am very glad to see so large a number," said the teacher; "and I
hope you will find that the work of confessing and forsaking your faults
is, on the whole, pleasant, not painful business. Now those who can
truly and honestly say that they never do use profane language of any
kind may take their seats."

Three only of the whole number, which consisted of not far from twenty,
sat down. It was in a sea-port town, where the temptation to yield to
this vice is even greater than would be, in the interior of our country,
supposed possible.

"Those who are now standing," pursued the teacher, "admit that they do,
sometimes at least, commit this sin. I suppose all, however, are
determined to reform; for I do not know what else should induce you to
rise and acknowledge it here, unless it is a desire hereafter to break
yourselves of the habit. But do you suppose that it will be enough for
you merely to resolve here that you will reform?"

"No, sir," said the boys.

"Why not? If you now sincerely determine never more to use a profane
word, will you not easily avoid it?"

The boys were silent. Some said faintly, "No, sir."

"It will not be easy for you to avoid the sin hereafter," continued the
teacher, "even if you do now sincerely and resolutely determine to do
so. You have formed the habit of sin, and the habit will not be easily
overcome. But I have detained you long enough now. I will try to devise
some method by which you may carry your plan into effect, and to-morrow
I will tell you what it is."

So the boys were dismissed for the day; the pleasant countenance and
cheerful tone of the teacher conveying to them the impression that they
were engaging in the common effort to accomplish a most desirable
purpose, in which they were to receive the teacher's help, not that he
was pursuing them, with threatening and punishment, into the forbidden
practice into which they had wickedly strayed. Great caution is,
however, in such a case, necessary to guard against the danger that the
teacher, in attempting to avoid the tones of irritation and anger,
should so speak of the sin as to blunt his pupils' sense of its guilt,
and lull their consciences into a slumber.

At the appointed time on the following day the subject was again brought
before the school, and some plans proposed by which the resolutions now
formed might be more certainly kept. These plans were readily and
cheerfully adopted by the boys, and in a short time the vice of
profaneness was, in a great degree, banished from the school.

I hope the reader will keep in mind the object of the above
illustration, which is to show that it is the true policy of the teacher
not to waste his time and strength in contending against _such
accidental instances_ of transgression as may chance to fall under his
notice, but to take an enlarged and extended view of the whole ground,
endeavoring to remove _whole classes of faults_--to elevate and improve
_multitudes together_.

By these means, his labors will not only be more effectual, but far more
pleasant. You can not come into collision with an individual scholar, to
punish him for a mischievous spirit, or even to rebuke him for some
single act by which he has given you trouble, without an uncomfortable
and uneasy feeling, which makes, in ordinary cases, the discipline of a
school the most unpleasant part of a teacher's duty. But you can plan a
campaign against a whole class of faults, and put into operation a
system of measures to correct them, and watch from day to day the
operation of that system with all the spirit and interest of a game. It
is, in fact, a game where your ingenuity and moral power are brought
into the field, in opposition to the evil tendencies of the hearts which
are under your influence. You will notice the success or the failure of
the means you may put into operation with all the interest with which
the experimental philosopher observes the curious processes he guides,
though your interest may be much purer and higher, for he works upon
matter, but you are experimenting upon mind.

Remember, then, as for the first time you take your new station at the
head of your school, that it is not your duty simply to watch with an
eagle eye for those accidental instances of transgression which may
chance to fall under your notice. You are to look over the whole ground.
You are to make yourself acquainted, as soon as possible, with the
classes of character and classes of faults which may prevail in your
dominions, and to form deliberate and well-digested plans for improving
the one and correcting the other.

And this is to be the course pursued not only with great delinquencies,
such as those to which I have already alluded, but to every little
transgression against the rules of order and propriety. You can correct
them far more easily and pleasantly in the mass than in detail.

To illustrate this principle by another case. A teacher, who takes the
course I am condemning, approaches the seat of one of his pupils, and
asks to see one of his books. As the boy opens his desk, the teacher
observes that it is in complete disorder. Books, maps, papers,
play-things, are there in promiscuous confusion, and, from the impulse
of the moment, the displeased teacher pours out upon the poor boy a
torrent of reproach.

"What a looking desk! Why, John, I am really ashamed of you! Look!"
continues he, holding up the lid, so that the boys in the neighborhood
can look in; "see what a mass of disorder and confusion. If ever I see
your desk in such a state again, I shall most certainly punish you."

The boys around laugh, very equivocally, however, for, with the feeling
of amusement, there is mingled the fear that the angry master may take
it into his head to inspect their domains. The boy accidentally exposed
looks sullen, and begins to throw his books into some sort of
arrangement, just enough to shield himself from the charge of absolutely
disobeying the injunction that he has received, and there the matter
ends.

Another teacher takes no apparent notice of the confusion which he thus
accidentally witnesses. "I must take up," thinks he to himself, "the
subject of order before the whole school. I have not yet spoken of it."
He thanks the boy for the book he borrowed, and goes away. He makes a
memorandum of the subject, and the boy does not know that the condition
of his desk was noticed; perhaps he does not even know that there was
any thing amiss.

A day or two after, at a time regularly appropriated to such subjects,
he addresses the boys as follows:

"In our efforts to improve the school as much as possible, there is one
subject which we must not forget. I mean the order of the desks."

The boys all begin to open their desk lids.

"You may stop a moment," says the teacher. "I shall give you all an
opportunity to examine your desks presently.

"I do not know what the condition of your desks is. I have not examined
them, and have not, in fact, seen the inside of more than one or two. As
I have not brought up this subject before, I presume that there are a
great many which can be arranged better than they are. Will you all now
look into your desks, and see whether you consider them in good order?
Stop a moment, however. Let me tell you what good order is. All those
things which are alike should be arranged together. Books should be in
one place, papers in another, and thus every thing should be classified.
Again, every thing should be so placed that it can be taken out without
disturbing other things. There is another principle, also, which I will
mention: the various articles should have _constant_ places, that is,
they should not be changed from day to day. By this means you soon
remember where every thing belongs, and you can put away your things
much more easily every night than if you had every night to arrange them
in a new way. Now will you look into your desks, and tell me whether
they are, on these three principles, well arranged?"

The boys of most schools, where this subject had not been regularly
attended to, would nearly all answer in the negative.

"I will allow you, then, some time to-day, fifteen minutes to arrange
your desks, and I hope you will try to keep them in good order
hereafter. A few days hence I shall examine them. If any of you wish for
assistance or advice from me in putting them in order, I shall be happy
to render it."

By such a plan, which will occupy but little more time than the
irritating and useless scolding which I supposed in the other case, how
much more will be accomplished. Such an address would of itself,
probably, be the means of putting in order, and keeping in order, at
least one half of the desks in the room, and following up the plan in
the same manner and in the same spirit with which it was begun would
secure the rest.

I repeat it, therefore, make it a principle in all cases to aim as much
as possible at the correction of those faults which are likely to be
general by _general measures_. You avoid by this means a vast amount of
irritation and impatience, both on your own part and on the part of your
scholars, and you produce twenty times the useful effect.

3. The next principle which occurs to me as deserving the teacher's
attention in the outset of his course is this:

Interest your scholars in doing something themselves to elevate the
moral character of the school, so as to secure a _decided majority who
will, of their own accord, co-operate with you._

Let your pupils understand, not by any formal speech which you make to
that effect, but by the manner in which, from time to time, you
incidentally allude to the subject, that you consider the school, when
you commence it, as _at par_, so to speak--that is, on a level with
other schools, and that your various plans for improving and amending it
are not to be considered in the light of finding fault, and punishing
transgressions, and controlling evil propensities, so as just to keep
things in a tolerable state, but as efforts to improve and carry
forward the institution to a still higher state of excellence. Such is
the tone and manner of some teachers that they never appear to be more
than merely satisfied. When the scholars do right, nothing is said about
it. The teacher seems to consider that a matter of course. It does not
appear to interest or please him at all. Nothing arouses him but when
they do wrong, and that only excites him to anger and frowns. Now in
such a case there can, of course, be no stimulus to effort on the part
of the pupils but the cold and heartless stimulus of fear.

Now it is wrong for the teacher to expect that things will go right in
his school as a matter of course. All that he can expect _as a matter of
course_ is, that things should go on as well as they do ordinarily in
schools--the ordinary amount of idleness, the ordinary amount of
misconduct. This is the most that he can expect to come as a matter of
course. He should feel this, and then all he can gain which will be
better than this will be a source of positive pleasure; a pleasure which
his pupils have procured for him, and which, consequently, they should
share. They should understand that the teacher is engaged in various
plans for improving the school, in which they should be invited to
engage, not from the selfish desire of thereby saving him trouble, but
because it will really be happy employment for them to engage in such an
enterprise, and because, by such efforts, their own moral powers will be
exerted and strengthened in the best possible way.

In another chapter I have explained to what extent, and in what manner,
the assistance of the pupils may be usefully and successfully employed
in carrying forward the general arrangements of the school. The same
_principles_ will apply here, though perhaps a little more careful and
delicate management is necessary in interesting them in subjects which
relate to moral discipline.

One important method of accomplishing this end is to present these
plans before the minds of the scholars as experiments--moral
experiments, whose commencement, progress, and results they may take a
great interest in witnessing. Let us take, for example, the case alluded
to under the last head--the plan of effecting a reform in regard to
keeping desks in order. Suppose the teacher were to say, when the time
had arrived at which he had promised to give them an opportunity to put
the desks in order,

"I think it would be a good plan to keep some account of our efforts for
improving the school in this respect. We might make a record of what we
do to-day, noting the day of the month and the number of desks which may
be found to be disorderly. Then, at the end of any time you may propose,
we will have the desks examined again, and see how many are disorderly
then. We can thus see how much improvement has been made in that time.
Should you like to adopt the plan?"

If the boys should appear not much interested in the proposal, the
teacher might, at his own discretion, waive it. In all probability,
however, they would like it, and would indicate their interest by their
countenances, or perhaps by a response. If so, the teacher might
proceed.

"You may all examine your desks, then, and decide whether they are in
order or not. I do not know, however, but that we ought to appoint a
committee to examine them; for perhaps all the boys would not be honest,
and report their desks as they really are."

"Yes, sir;" "yes, sir," say the boys.

"Do you mean that you will be honest, or that you would like to have a
committee appointed?"

There was a confused murmur. Some answer one, and some the other.

"I think," proceeds the teacher, "the boys will be honest, and report
their desks just as they are. At any rate, the number of dishonest boys
in this school can not be so large as materially to affect the result.
I think we had better take your own statements. As soon as the desks are
all examined, those who have found theirs in a condition which does not
satisfy them are requested to rise and be counted."

The teacher then looks around the room, and selecting some intelligent
boy who has influence among his companions, and whose influence he is
particularly desirous of enlisting on the side of good order, says,
"Shall I nominate some one to keep an account of the number?"

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"Well, I nominate William Jones. How many are in favor of requesting
William Jones to perform this duty?"

"It is a vote. William, I will thank you to write upon a piece of paper
that on the 8th of December the subject of order in the desks was
brought up, and that the boys resolved on making an effort to improve
the school in this respect. Then say that the boys reported all their
desks which they thought were disorderly, and that the number was
thirty-five; and that after a week or two, the desks are to be examined
again, and the disorderly ones counted, that we may see how much we have
improved. After you have written it you may bring it to me, and I will
tell you whether it is right."

"How many desks do you think will be found to be disorderly when we come
to make the examination?"

The boys hesitate.

The teacher names successively several numbers, and asks whether they
think the real number will be greater or less. He notices their votes
upon them, and at last fixes upon one which seems to be about the
general sense of the school. Then the teacher himself mentions the
number which he supposes will be found to be disorderly. His estimate
will ordinarily be larger than that of the scholars, because he knows
better how easily resolutions are broken. This number, too, is recorded,
and then the whole subject is dismissed.

Now, of course, no reader of these remarks will understand me to be
recommending, by this imaginary dialogue, a particular course to be
taken in regard to this subject, far less the particular language to be
used. All I mean is to show by a familiar illustration how the teacher
is to endeavor to enlist the interest and to excite the curiosity of his
pupils in his plans for the improvement of his school, by presenting
them as moral experiments, which they are to assist him in
trying--experiments whose progress they are to watch, and whose results
they are to predict. If the precise steps which I have described should
actually be taken, although it would occupy but a few minutes, and would
cause no thought and no perplexing care, yet it would undoubtedly be the
means of awakening a very general interest in the subject of order
throughout the school. All would be interested in the work of
arrangement.

All would watch, too, with interest the progress and the result of the
experiment; and if, a few days afterward, the teacher should
accidentally, in recess, see a disorderly desk, a good-humored remark
made with a smile to the by-standers, "I suspect my prediction will turn
out the correct one," would have far more effect than the most severe
reproaches, or the tingling of a rap over the knuckles with a ratan.

I know from experience that scholars of every kind can be led by such
measures as these, or rather by such a spirit as this, to take an active
interest, and to exert a most powerful influence in regard to the whole
condition of the institution. I have seen the experiment successful in
boys' schools and in girls' schools, among very little children, and
among the seniors and juniors at college.

In one of the colleges of New England a new and beautiful edifice was
erected. The lecture-rooms were fitted up in handsome style, and the
officers, when the time for the occupation of the building approached,
were anticipating with regret what seemed to be the unavoidable
defacing, and cutting, and marking of the seats and walls. It was,
however, thought that if the subject was properly presented to the
students, they would take an interest in preserving the property from
injury. They were accordingly addressed somewhat as follows:

"It seems, young gentlemen, to be generally the custom in colleges for
the students to ornament the walls and benches of their recitation-rooms
with various inscriptions and caricatures, so that after the premises
have been for a short time in the possession of a class, every thing
within reach, which will take an impression from a penknife or a trace
from a pencil, is covered with names, and dates, and heads, and
inscriptions of every kind. The faculty do not know what you wish in
this respect in regard to the new accommodations which the trustees have
now provided for you, and which you are soon to enter. They have had
them fitted up for you handsomely, and if you wish to have them kept in
good order, we will assist you. If the students think proper to express
by a vote, or in any other way, their wish to keep them in good order,
we will engage to have such incidental injuries as may from time to
time occur immediately repaired. Such injuries will, of course, be done;
for, whatever may be the wish and general opinion of the whole, it is
not to be expected that every individual in so large a community will be
careful. If, however, as a body, you wish to have the building preserved
in its present state, and will, as a body, take the necessary
precautions, we will do our part."

[Illustration]

The students responded to this appeal most heartily. They passed a vote
expressing a desire to preserve the premises in order, and for many
years, and, for aught I know, to the present hour, the whole is kept as
a room occupied by gentlemen should be kept. At some other colleges, and
those, too, sustaining the very highest rank among the institutions of
the country, the doors of the public buildings are sometimes _studded
with nails as thick as they can possibly be driven, and then covered
with a thick coat of sand dried into the paint, as a protection from the
knives of the students!!_

The particular methods by which the teacher is to interest his pupils in
his various plans for their improvement can not be fully described here.
In fact, it does not depend so much on the methods he adopts as upon the
view which he himself takes of these plans, and the _tone and manner in
which he speaks of them to his pupils_.

A teacher, for example, perhaps on the first day of his labors in a new
school, calls a class to read. They pretend to form a line, but it
crooks in every direction. One boy is leaning back against a desk;
another comes forward as far as possible, to get near the fire; the rest
lounge in every position and in every attitude. John is holding up his
book high before his face to conceal an apple from which he is
endeavoring to secure an enormous bite. James is, by the same sagacious
device, concealing a whisper which he is addressing to his next
neighbor, and Moses is seeking amusement by crowding and elbowing the
little boy who is unluckily standing next him.

"What a spectacle!" says the master to himself, as he looks at this sad
display. "What shall I do?" The first impulse is to break forth upon
them at once with all the artillery of reproof, and threatening, and
punishment. I have seen, in such a case, a scolding and frowning master
walk up and down before such a class with a stern and angry air,
commanding this one to stand back, and that one to come forward,
ordering one boy to put down his book, and scolding at a second for
having lost his place, and knocking the knees of another with his ruler
because he was out of the line. The boys scowl at their teacher, and,
with ill-natured reluctance, they obey just enough to escape punishment.

Another teacher looks calmly at the scene, and says to himself, "What
shall I do to remove effectually these evils? If I can but interest the
boys in reform, it will be far more easy to effect it than if I attempt
to accomplish it by the mere exercise of my authority."

In the mean time things go on during the reading in their own way. The
teacher simply _observes_. He is in no haste to commence his operations.
He looks for the faults; watches, without seeming to watch, the
movements which he is attempting to control. He studies the materials
with which he is to work, and lets their true character develop itself.
He tries to find something to approve in the exercise as it proceeds,
and endeavors to interest the class by narrating some fact connected
with the reading, or making some explanation which interests the boys.
At the end of the exercise he addresses them, perhaps, as follows:

"I have observed, boys, in some military companies, that the officers
are very strict, requiring implicit and precise obedience. The men are
required to form a precise line." (Here there is a sort of involuntary
movement all along the line, by which it is very sensibly straightened.)
"They make all the men stand erect" (at this word heads go up, and
straggling feet draw in all along the class), "in the true military
posture. They allow nothing to be done in the ranks but to attend to
the exercise" (John hastily crowds his apple into his pocket), "and thus
they regulate every thing in exact and steady discipline, so that all
things go on in a most systematic and scientific manner. This discipline
is so admirable in some countries, especially in Europe, where much
greater attention is paid to military tactics than in our country, that
I have heard it said by travelers that some of the soldiers who mount
guard at public places look as much like statues as they do like living
men.

"Other commanders act differently. They let the men do pretty much as
they please. So you will see such a company lounging into a line when
the drum beats, as if they took little interest in what was going on.
While the captain is giving his commands, one is eating his luncheon,
another is talking with his next neighbor. Part are out of the line;
part lounge on one foot; they hold their guns in every position; and, on
the whole, present a very disorderly and unsoldier-like appearance.

"I have observed, too, that boys very generally prefer to _see_ the
strict companies, but perhaps they would prefer to _belong_ to the lax
ones."

"No, sir;" "No, sir," say the boys.

"Suppose you all had your choice either to belong to a company like the
first one I described, where the captain was strict in all his
requirements, or to one like the latter, where you could do pretty much
as you pleased, which should you prefer?"

Unless I am entirely mistaken in my idea of the inclinations of boys, it
would be very difficult to get a single honest expression of preference
for the latter. They would say with one voice,

"The first."

"I suppose it would be so. You would be put to some inconvenience by the
strict commands of the captain, but then you would be more than paid by
the beauty of regularity and order which you would all witness. There is
nothing so pleasant as regularity, and nobody likes regularity more than
boys do. To show this, I should like to have you now form a line as
exact as you can."

After some unnecessary shoving and pushing, increased by the disorderly
conduct of a few bad boys, a line is formed. Most of the class are
pleased with the experiment, and the teacher takes no notice of the few
exceptions. The time to attend to _them_ will come by-and-by.

"Hands down." The boys obey.

"Shoulders back."

"There; there is a very perfect line."

"Do you stand easily in that position?"

"Yes, sir."

"I believe your position is the military one now, pretty nearly; and
military men study the postures of the human body for the sake of
finding the one most easy; for they wish to preserve as much as possible
of the soldiers' strength for the time of battle. I should like to try
the experiment of your standing thus at the next lesson. It is a very
great improvement upon your common mode. Are you willing to do it?"

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"You will get tired, I have no doubt; for the military position, though
most convenient and easy in the end, is not to be learned and fixed in
practice without effort. In fact, I do not expect you will succeed the
first day very well. You will probably become restless and uneasy before
the end of the lesson, especially the smaller boys. I must excuse it, I
suppose, if you do, as it will be the first time."

By such methods as these the teacher will certainly secure a majority in
favor of all his plans. But perhaps some experienced teacher, who knows
from his own repeated difficulties with bad boys what sort of spirits
the teacher of district schools has sometimes to deal with, may ask, as
he reads this,

"Do you expect that such a method as this will succeed in keeping your
school in order? Why there are boys in almost every school whom you
would no more coax into obedience and order in this way than you would
persuade the northeast wind to change its course by reasoning."

I know there are. And my readers are requested to bear in mind that my
object is not to show how the whole government of the school may be
secured, but how one important advantage may be gained, which will
assist in accomplishing the object. All I should expect or hope for, by
such measures as these, is _to interest and gain over to our side the
majority_. What is to be done with those who can not be reached by such
kinds of influence I shall endeavor presently to show. The object now is
simply to gain the _majority_--to awaken a general interest, which you
can make effectual in promoting your plans, and thus to narrow the field
of discipline by getting those right who can be got right by such
measures.

Thus securing a majority to be on your side in the general
administration of the school is absolutely indispensable to success. A
teacher may, indeed, by the force of mere authority, so control his
pupils as to preserve order in the schoolroom, and secure a tolerable
progress in study, but the progress will be slow, and the cultivation of
moral principle must be, in such a case, entirely neglected. The
principles of duty can not be inculcated by fear; and though pain and
terror must in many instances be called in to coerce an individual
offender, whom milder measures will not reach, yet these agents, and
others like them, can never be successfully employed as the ordinary
motives to action. They can not produce any thing but mere external and
heartless obedience in the presence of the teacher, with an inclination
to throw off all restraint when the pressure of stern authority is
removed.

We should all remember that our pupils are but for a very short time
under our direct control. Even when they are in school the most untiring
vigilance will not enable us to watch, except for a very small portion
of the time, any one individual. Many hours of the day, too, they are
entirely removed from our inspection, and a few months will take them
away from us altogether. Subjecting them, then, to mere external
restraint is a very inadequate remedy for the moral evil to which they
are exposed. What we aim at is to bring forward and strengthen an
internal principle which will act when both parent and teacher are away,
and control where external circumstances are all unfavorable.

I have thus far, under this head, been endeavoring to show the
importance of securing, by gentle measures, a majority of the scholars
to cooperate with the teacher in his plans. The particular methods of
doing this demand a little attention.

(1.) The teacher should study human nature as it exhibits itself in the
school-room by taking an interest in the sports and enjoyments of the
pupils, and connecting, as much as possible, what is interesting and
agreeable with the pursuits of the school, so as to lead the scholars to
like the place. An attachment to the institution, and to the duties of
it, will give the teacher a very strong hold upon the community of mind
which exists there.

(2.) Every thing which is unpleasant in the discipline of the school
should be attended to, as far as possible, privately. Sometimes it is
necessary to bring a case forward in public for reproof or punishment,
but this is seldom required. In some schools it is the custom to
postpone cases of discipline till the close of the day, and then, just
before the boys are dismissed at night, all the difficulties are
settled. Thus, day after day, the impression which is last made upon
their minds is received from a season of suffering, and terror, and
tears.

Now such a practice may be attended with many advantages, but it seems
to be, on the whole, unwise. Awing the pupils, by showing them the
painful consequences of doing wrong, should be very seldom resorted to.
It is far better to allure them by showing them the pleasures of doing
right. Doing right is pleasant to every body, and no persons are so
easily convinced of this, or, rather, so easily led to see it, as
children. Now the true policy is to let them experience the pleasure of
doing their duty, and they will easily be allured to it.

In many cases, where a fault has been publicly committed, it seems, at
first view, to be necessary that it should be publicly punished; but the
end will, in most cases, be answered if it is _noticed_ publicly, so
that the pupils may know that it received attention, and then the
ultimate disposal of the case may be made a private affair between the
teacher and the individual concerned. If, however, every case of
disobedience, or idleness, or disorder, is brought out publicly before
the school, so that all witness the teacher's displeasure and feel the
effects of it (for to witness it is to feel its most unpleasant
effects), the school becomes, in a short time, hardened to such scenes.
Unpleasant associations become connected with the management of the
school, and the scholars are prepared to do wrong with less reluctance,
since the consequence is only a repetition of what they are obliged to
see every day.

Besides, if a boy does something wrong, and you severely reprove him in
the presence of his class, you punish the class almost as much as you do
him. In fact, in many cases you punish them more; for I believe it is
almost invariably more unpleasant for a good boy to stand by and listen
to rebukes, than for a bad boy to take them. Keep these things,
therefore, as much as possible out of sight. Never bring forward cases
of discipline except on mature deliberation, and for a distinct and
well-defined purpose.

(3.) Never bring forward a case of discipline of this kind unless you
are sure that public opinion will go in your favor. If a case comes up
in which the sympathy of the scholars is excited for the criminal in
such a way as to be against yourself, the punishment will always do more
harm than good. Now this, unless there is great caution, will often
happen. In fact, it is probable that a very large proportion of the
punishments which are ordinarily inflicted in schools only prepare the
way for more offenses.

It is, however, possible to bring forward individual cases in such a way
as to produce a very strong moral effect of the right kind. This is to
be done by seizing upon those peculiar emergencies which will arise in
the course of the administration of a school, and which each teacher
must watch for and discover himself. They can not be pointed out. I may,
however, give a clearer idea of what is meant by such emergencies by an
example. It is a case which actually occurred as here narrated.

In a school where nearly all the pupils were faithful and docile, there
were one or two boys who were determined to find amusement in those
mischievous tricks so common in schools and colleges. There was one boy,
in particular, who was the life and soul of all these plans. Devoid of
principle, idle as a scholar, morose and sullen in his manners, he was,
in every respect, a true specimen of the whole class of mischief-makers,
wherever they are to be found. His mischief consisted, as usual, in such
exploits as stopping up the keyhole of the door, upsetting the teacher's
inkstand, or fixing something to his desk to make a noise and interrupt
the school.

It so happened that there was a standing feud between the boys of his
neighborhood and those of another situated a mile or two from it. By his
malicious activity he had stimulated this quarrel to a high pitch, and
was very obnoxious to the boys of the other party. One day, when taking
a walk, the teacher observed a number of boys with excited looks, and
armed with sticks and stones, standing around a shoemaker's shop, to
which his poor pupil had gone for refuge from them. They had got him
completely within their power, and were going to wait until he should be
wearied with his confinement and come out, when they were going to
inflict upon him the punishment they thought he deserved.

The teacher interfered, and by the united influence of authority,
management, and persuasion, succeeded in effecting a rescue. The boy
would probably have preferred to owe his safety to any one else than to
the teacher whom he had so often tried to tease, but he was glad to
escape in any way. The teacher said nothing about the subject, and the
boy soon supposed it was entirely forgotten.

But it was not forgotten. The teacher knew perfectly well that the boy
would before long be at his old tricks again, and was reserving this
story as the means of turning the whole current of public opinion
against such tricks, should they again occur.

One day he came to school in the afternoon, and found the room filled
with smoke; the doors and windows were all closed, though, as soon as he
came in, some of the boys opened them. He knew by this circumstance that
it was roguery, not accident, which caused the smoke. He appeared not to
notice it, however, said he was sorry it smoked, and asked the
mischievous boy--for he was sure to be always near in such a case--to
assist him in putting up the wood of the fire more compactly. The boy
supposed that the smoke was understood to be accidental, and perhaps
secretly laughed at the dullness of his master.

In the course of the afternoon, the teacher ascertained by private
inquiries that his suspicions were correct as to the author of the
mischief. At the close of school, when the studies were ended, and the
books laid away, he said to the scholars that he wanted to tell them a
story.

He then, with a pleasant tone and manner, gave a very minute, and, to
the boys, a very interesting narrative of his adventure two or three
weeks before, when he rescued this boy from his danger. He called him,
however, simply _a boy_, without mentioning his name, or even hinting
that he was a member of the school. No narrative could excite a stronger
interest among an audience of school-boys than such a one as this, and
no act of kindness from a teacher would make as vivid an impression as
interfering to rescue a trembling captive from such a situation as the
one this boy had been in.

The scholars listened with profound interest and attention, and though
the teacher said little about his share in the affair, and spoke of what
he did as if it were a matter of course that he should thus befriend a
boy in distress, an impression very favorable to himself must have been
made. After he had finished his narrative, he said,

"Now should you like to know who this boy was?"

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," said they, eagerly.

"It was a boy that you all know."

The boys looked around upon one another. Who could it be?

"He is a member of this school."

There was an expression of fixed, and eager, and increasing interest on
every face in the room.

"He is here now," said the teacher, winding up the interest and
curiosity of the scholars, by these words, to the highest pitch.

"But I can not tell you his name; for what return do you think he made
to me? To be sure it was no very great favor that I did him; I should
have been unworthy the name of teacher if I had not done it for him, or
for any boy in my school. But, at any rate, it showed my good wishes for
him; it showed that I was his friend; and what return do you think he
made me for it? Why, to-day he spent his time between schools in filling
the room with smoke, that he might torment his companions here, and give
me trouble, and anxiety, and suffering when I should come. If I should
tell you his name, the whole school would turn against him for his
ingratitude."

The business ended here, and it put a stop, a final stop, to all
malicious tricks in the school. Now it is not very often that so fine an
opportunity occurs to kill, by a single blow, the disposition to do
willful, wanton injury, as this circumstance afforded; but the principle
illustrated by it, bringing forward individual cases of transgression in
a public manner, only for the sake of the general effect, and so
arranging what is said and done as to produce the desired effect upon
the public mind in the highest degree, may very frequently be acted
upon. Cases are continually occurring, and if the teacher will keep it
constantly in mind, that when a particular case comes before the whole
school, the object is an influence upon the whole, and not the
punishment or reform of the guilty individual, he will insensibly so
shape his measures as to produce the desired result.

(4.) There should be a great difference made between the _measures which
you take_ to prevent wrong, and the _feelings of displeasure which you
express_ against the wrong when it is done. The former should be strict,
authoritative, unbending; the latter should be mild and gentle. Your
measures, if uniform and systematic, will never give offense, however
powerfully you may restrain and control those subject to them. It is the
morose look, the harsh expression, the tone of irritation and
fretfulness, which is so unpopular in school. The sins of childhood are
by nine tenths of mankind enormously overrated, and perhaps none
overrate them more extravagantly than teachers. We confound the trouble
they give us with their real moral turpitude, and measure the one by the
other. Now if a fault prevails in school, one teacher will scold and
fret himself about it day after day, until his scholars are tired both
of school and of him; and yet he will _do_ nothing effectual to remove
it. Another will take efficient and decided measures, and yet say very
little on the subject, and the whole evil will be removed without
suspending for a moment the good-humor and pleasant feeling which should
prevail in school.

The expression of your displeasure on account of any thing that is wrong
will seldom or never do any good. The scholars consider it scolding; it
is scolding; and though it may, in many cases, contain many sound
arguments and eloquent expostulations, it operates simply as a
punishment. It is unpleasant to hear it. General instruction must indeed
be given, but not general reproof.

(5.) Feel that in the management of the school _you_ are under
obligation as well as the scholars, and let this feeling appear in all
that you do. Your scholars wish you to dismiss school earlier than usual
on some particular occasion, or to allow them an extra holiday. Show by
the manner in which you consider and speak of the question that your
main inquiry is what is _your duty_. Speak often of your responsibility
to your employers--not formally, but incidentally and naturally, as you
will speak if you feel this responsibility.

It will assist very much, too, in securing cheerful, good-humored
obedience to the regulations of the school, if you extend their
authority over yourself. Not that the teacher is to have no liberty from
which the scholars are debarred; this would be impossible. But the
teacher should submit, himself, to every thing which he requires of his
scholars, unless it is in cases where a different course is necessary.

Suppose, for instance, a study-card, like the one described in a
preceding chapter, is made so as to mark the time of recess and of
study. The teacher, near the close of recess, is sitting with a group of
his pupils around him, telling them some story. They are all interested,
and they see he is interested. He looks at his watch, and shows by his
manner that he is desirous of finishing what he is saying, but that he
knows that the striking of the bell will cut short his story. Perhaps
he says not a word about it, but his pupils see that he is submitting to
the control which is placed over them; and when the card goes up, and he
stops instantly in the middle of his sentence and rises with the rest,
each one to go to his own place, to engage at once in their several
duties, he teaches them a most important lesson, and in the most
effectual way. Such a lesson of fidelity and obedience, and such an
example of it, will have more influence than half an hour's scolding
about whispering without leave, or a dozen public punishments. At least
so I found it, for I have tried both.

Show then continually that you see and enjoy the beauty of system and
strict discipline, and that you submit to law yourself as well as
require submission of others.

(6.) Lead your pupils to see that they must share with you the credit or
the disgrace which success or failure in the management of the school
may bring. Lead them to feel this, not by telling them so, for there are
very few things which can be impressed upon children by direct efforts
to impress them, but by so speaking of the subject, from time to time,
as to lead them to see that you understand it so.

Repeat, with judicious caution, what is said of the school, both for and
against it, and thus endeavor to interest the scholars in its public
reputation. This feeling of interest in the institution may very easily
be awakened. It sometimes springs up spontaneously, and, where it is not
guided aright by the teacher, sometimes produces very bad effects upon
the minds of the pupils in rival institutions. When two schools are
situated near each other, evil consequences will result from this
feeling, unless the teacher manages it so as to deduce good
consequences. I recollect that in my boyish days there was a standing
quarrel between the boys of a town school and an academy which were in
the same village. We were all ready at any time, when out of school, to
fight for the honor of our respective institutions, each for his own,
but very few were ready to be diligent and faithful when in it, though
it would seem that that might have been rather a more effectual means of
establishing the point. If the scholars are led to understand that the
school is to a great extent their institution, that they must assist to
sustain its character, and that they share the honor of its excellence,
if any honor is acquired, a feeling will prevail in the school which may
be turned to a most useful account.

(7.) In giving instruction on moral duty, the subject should generally
be taken up in reference to imaginary cases, or cases which are unknown
to most of the scholars. If this is done, the pupils feel that the
object of bringing up the subject is to do good; whereas, if questions
of moral duty are only introduced from time to time, when some
prevailing or accidental fault in school calls for reproof, the feeling
will be that the teacher is only endeavoring to remove from his own path
a source of inconvenience and trouble. The most successful mode of
giving general moral instruction that I have known, and which has been
adopted in many schools with occasional variations of form, is the
following:

When the time has arrived, a subject is assigned, and small papers are
distributed to the whole school, that all may write something concerning
it. These are then read and commented on by the teacher, and become the
occasion of any remarks which he may wish to make. The interest of the
pupils is strongly excited to hear the papers read, and the instruction
which the teacher may give produces a deeper effect when ingrafted thus
upon something which originates in the minds of the pupils.

To take a particular case. A teacher addresses his scholars thus: "The
subject for the moral exercise to-day is _Prejudice_. Each one may take
one of the papers which have been distributed, and you may write upon
them any thing you please relating to the subject. As many as have
thought of any thing to write may raise their hands."

One or two only of the older scholars gave the signal.

"I will mention the kinds of communications you can make, and perhaps
what I say will suggest something to you. As fast as you think of any
thing, you may raise your hands, and as soon as I see a sufficient
number up, I will give directions to begin.

"You can describe any case in which you have been prejudiced yourselves
either against persons or things."

Here a number of the hands went up.

"You can mention any facts relating to antipathies of any kind, or any
cases where you know other persons to be prejudiced. You can ask any
questions in regard to the subject--questions about the nature of
prejudice, or the causes of it, or the remedy for it."

As he said this, many hands were successively raised, and at last
directions were given for all to begin to write. Five minutes were
allowed, and at the end of that time the papers were collected and read.
The following specimens, transcribed verbatim from the originals, with
the remarks made as nearly as could be remembered immediately after the
exercise, will give an idea of the ordinary operation of this plan.

"I am very much prejudiced against spiders and every insect in the known
world with scarcely an exception. There is a horrid sensation created by
their ugly forms that makes me wish them all to Jericho. The butterfly's
wings are pretty, but he is dreadful ugly. The is no affectation in this,
for my pride will not permit me to show this prejudice to any great degree
when I can help it. I do not fear the little wretches, but I do hate them.
ANTI-SPIDER-SPARER."

"This is not expressed very well; the phrases '_to Jericho?_' and
'_dreadful ugly_' are vulgar, and not in good taste. Such a dislike,
too, is more commonly called an antipathy than a prejudice, though
perhaps it comes under the general head of prejudices."

"How may we overcome prejudice? I think that when we are prejudiced
against a person, it is the hardest thing in the world to overcome it."

A prejudice is usually founded on some unpleasant association
connected with the subject of it. The best way to overcome the
prejudice, therefore, is to connect some pleasant association with it.

For example (to take the case of the antipathy to the spider, alluded
to in the last article), the reason why that young lady dislikes spiders
is undoubtedly because she has some unpleasant idea associated with the
thought of that animal, perhaps, for example, the idea of their crawling
upon her, which is certainly not a very pleasant one for any body. Now
the way to correct such a prejudice is to try to connect some pleasant
thoughts with the sight of the animal.

I once found a spider in an empty apartment hanging in its web on the
wall, with a large ball of eggs which it had suspended by its side. My
companion and myself cautiously brought up a tumbler under the web, and
pressed it suddenly against the wall, so as to inclose both spider and
eggs within it. We then contrived to run in a pair of shears, so as to
cut off the web, and let both the animal and its treasure fall down into
the tumbler. We put a book over the top, and walked off with our prize
to a table to see what the spider would do.

At first it tried to climb up the side of the tumbler, but its feet
slipped on account of the smoothness of the glass. We then inclined the
glass so as to favor its climbing, and to enable it to reach the book at
the top. As soon as it touched the book, it was safe. It could cling to
the book easily, and we placed the tumbler again upright to watch its
motions.

It attached a thread to the book, and let itself down by it to the
bottom of the tumbler, and walked round and round the ball of eggs,
apparently in great trouble. Presently it ascended by its thread, and
then came down again. It attached a new thread to the ball, and then
went up, drawing the ball with it. It hung the ball at a proper distance
from the book, and bound it firmly in its place by threads running from
it in every direction to the parts of the book which were near, and then
the animal took its place quietly by its side.

Now I do not say that if any body had a strong antipathy to a spider,
seeing one perform such a work as this would entirely remove it, but it
would certainly soften it. It would _tend_ to remove it. It would
connect an interesting and pleasant association with the object. So if
she should watch a spider in the fields making his web. You have all
seen those beautiful regular webs in the morning dew ("Yes, sir;" "Yes,
sir"), composed of concentric circles, and radii diverging in every
direction. ("Yes, sir.") Well, watch a spider when making one of these,
or observe his artful ingenuity and vigilance when he is lying in wait
for a fly. By thus connecting pleasant ideas with the sight of the
animal, you will destroy the unpleasant association which constitutes
the prejudice. In the same manner, if I wished to create an antipathy to
a spider in a child, it would be very easily done. I would tie her hands
behind her, and put three or four upon her to crawl over her face.

[Illustration]

"Thus you must destroy prejudices in all cases by connecting pleasant
thoughts and associations with the objects of them."

"I am very often prejudiced against new scholars without knowing why."

"We sometimes hear a person talk in this way: 'I do not like such or
such a person at all.'

"'Why?'

"'Oh, I don't know; I do not like her at all. I can't bear her.'

"'But why not? What is your objection to her?'

"'Oh, I don't know; I have not any particular reason, but I never did
like her.'

"Now, whenever you hear any person talk so, you may be sure that her
opinion on any subject is worth nothing at all. She forms opinions in
one case without grounds, and it depends merely upon accident whether
she does or not in other cases."

"Why is it that so many of our countrymen _are_, or seem to be,
prejudiced against the unfortunate children of Africa? Almost every _large
white_ boy who meets a _small black_ boy insults him in some way or other."

"It is so hard to _overcome_ prejudices, that we ought to be careful how
we _form_ them."

"When I see a new scholar enter this school, and she does not happen to
suit me exactly in her ways and manners, I very often get prejudiced
against her; though sometimes I find her a valuable friend after I get
acquainted with her."


"There is an inquiry I should like very much to make, though I suppose
it would not be quite right to make it. I should like to ask all those
who have some particular friend in school, and who can recollect the
impression which the individual made upon them when they first saw her,
to rise, and then I should like to inquire in how many cases the first
impression was favorable, and in how many unfavorable."

"Yes, sir;" "Yes, sir."

"Do you mean you would like to have the inquiry made?"

"Yes, sir."

"All, then, who have intimate friends, and can recollect the impression
which they first made upon them, may rise."

[About thirty rose; more than two thirds of whom voted that the first
impression made by the persons who had since become their particular
friends was unfavorable.]

"This shows how much dependence you can justly place on first
impressions."

"It was the next Monday morning after I had attained the wise age
of four years that I was called up into my mother's room, and told that
I was the next day going to school.

"I called forth all my reasoning powers, and with all the ability of a
child of four years, I reasoned with my mother, but to no purpose. I
told her that I _hated_ the school-mistress then, though I had never
seen her. The very first day I tottered under the weight of the mighty
fool's-cap. I only attended her school two quarters; with prejudice I
went, and with prejudice I came away.

"The old school-house is now torn down, and a large brick house takes
the place of it. But I never pass by without remembering my teacher. I
am prejudiced to [against] the very spot."

"Is it not right to allow prejudice to have influence over our minds as
far as this? If any thing comes to our knowledge with which wrong
_seems_ to be connected, and one in whom we have always felt confidence
is engaged in it, is it not right to allow our prejudice in favor of
this individual to have so much influence over us as to cause us to
believe that all is really right, though every circumstance which has
come to our knowledge is against such a conclusion? I felt this
influence, not many weeks since, in a very great degree."


"The disposition to judge favorably of a fraud in such a case would not
be prejudice; or, at least, if it were so, it would not be a sufficient
ground to justify us in withholding blame. Well-grounded confidence in
such a person, if there was reason for it, ought to have such an effect,
but not prejudice."


The above may be considered as a fair specimen of the ordinary
operation of such an exercise. It is taken as an illustration, not by
selection, from the large number of similar exercises which I have
witnessed, but simply because it was an exercise occurring at the time
when a description was to be written. Besides the articles quoted above,
there were thirty or forty others which were read and commented on. The
above will, however, be sufficient to give the reader a clear idea of
the exercise, and to show what is the nature of the moral effect it is
calculated to produce.

The subjects which may be advantageously brought forward in such a way
are, of course, very numerous. They are such as the following:

1. DUTIES TO PARENTS.--Anecdotes of good or bad conduct at home.
Questions. Cases where it is most difficult to obey. Dialogues between
parents and children. Excuses which are often made for disobedience.

2. SELFISHNESS.--Cases of selfishness any of the pupils have observed.
Dialogues they have heard exhibiting it. Questions about its nature.
Indications of selfishness.

3. FAULTS OF THE SCHOOL.--Any bad practices the scholars may have
observed in regard to general deportment, recitations, habits of study,
or the scholars' treatment of one another. Each scholar may write what
is his own greatest trouble in school, and whether he thinks any thing
can be done to remove it. Any thing they think can be improved in the
management of the school by the teacher. Unfavorable things they have
heard said about it out of school, though without names.

4. EXCELLENCES OF THE SCHOOL.--Good practices which ought to be
persevered in. Any little incidents the scholars may have noticed
illustrating good character. Cases which have occurred in which scholars
have done right in temptation, or when others around were doing wrong.
Favorable reports in regard to the school in the community around.

5. THE SABBATH.--Any thing the scholars may have known to be done on the
Sabbath which they doubt whether right or wrong. Questions in regard to
the subject. Various opinions they have heard expressed. Difficulties
they have in regard to proper ways of spending the Sabbath.


(8.) We have one other method to describe by which a favorable moral
influence may be exerted in school. The method can, however, go into
full effect only where there are several pupils who have made
considerable advances in mental cultivation.

It is to provide a way by which teachers and pupils may write
anonymously for the school. This may be done by having a place of
deposit for such articles as may be written, where any person may leave
what he wishes to have read, nominating by a memorandum upon the article
itself the reader. If a proper feeling on the subject of good discipline
and the formation of good character prevails in school, many articles,
which will have a great deal of effect upon the pupils, will find their
way through such an avenue once opened. The teacher can himself often
bring forward in this way his suggestions with more effect than he
otherwise could do. Such a plan is, in fact, like the plan of a
newspaper for an ordinary community, where sentiments and opinions stand
on their own basis, and influence the community just in proportion to
their intrinsic merits, unassisted by the authority of the writer's
name, and unimpeded by any prejudice which may exist against him.

The following articles, which were really offered for such a purpose in
the Mount Vernon school, will serve as specimens to illustrate the
actual operation of the plan. One or two of them were written by
teachers. I do not know the authors of the others. I do not offer them
as remarkable compositions: every teacher will see that they are not so.
The design of inserting them is merely to show that the ordinary
literary ability to be found in every school may be turned to useful
account by simply opening a channel for it, and to furnish such teachers
as may be inclined to try the experiment the means of making the plan
clearly understood by their pupils.


MARKS OF A BAD SCHOLAR.

"At the time when she should be ready to take her seat at school, she
commences preparation for leaving home. To the extreme annoyance of
those about her, all is now hurry, and bustle, and ill-humor. Thorough
search is to be made for every book or paper for which she has occasion;
some are found in one place, some in another, and others are forgotten
altogether. Being finally equipped, she casts her eye at the clock,
hopes to be in tolerable good season (notwithstanding that the hour for
opening the school has already arrived), and sets out in the most
violent hurry.

"After so much haste, she is unfitted for attending properly to the
duties of the school until a considerable time after her arrival. If
present at the devotional exercises, she finds it difficult to command
her attention even when desirous of so doing, and her deportment at this
hour is, accordingly, marked with an unbecoming listlessness and
abstraction.

"When called to recitations, she recollects that some task was assigned,
which, till that moment, she had forgotten; of others she had mistaken
the extent, most commonly thinking them to be shorter than her
companions suppose. In her answers to questions with which she should be
familiar, she always manifests more or less of hesitation, and what she
ventures to express is very commonly in the form of a question. In
these, as in all exercises, there is an inattention to general
instructions. Unless what is said be addressed particularly to herself,
her eyes are directed toward another part of the room; it may be, her
thoughts are employed about something not at all connected with the
school. If reproved by her teacher for negligence in any respects, she
is generally provided with an abundance of excuses, and however mild the
reproof, she receives it as a piece of extreme severity.

"Throughout her whole deportment there is an air of indolence and a want
of interest in those exercises which should engage her attention. In her
seat, she most commonly sits in some lazy posture--either with her
elbows upon her desk, her head leaning upon her hands, or with her seat
tipped forward or backward. When she has occasion to leave her seat, it
is in a sauntering, lingering gait--perhaps some trick is contrived on
the way for exciting the mirth of her companions.

"About every thing in which it is possible to be so, she is untidy. Her
books are carelessly used, and placed in her desk without order. If she
has a piece of waste paper to dispose of, she finds it much more
convenient to tear it into small pieces and scatter it about her desk,
than to put it in a proper place. Her hands and clothes are usually
covered with ink. Her written exercises are blotted and full of
mistakes."



THE CONSEQUENCES OF BEING BEHINDHAND.


"The following incident, which I witnessed on a late journey,
illustrates an important principle, and I will relate it.

"When our steam-boat started from the wharf, all our passengers had not
come. After we had proceeded a few yards, there appeared among the crowd
on the wharf a man with his trunk under his arm, out of breath, and with
a most disappointed and disconsolate air. The captain determined to stop
for him; but stopping an immense steam-boat, moving swiftly through the
water, is not to be done in a moment; so we took a grand sweep, wheeling
majestically around an English ship which was at anchor in the harbor.
As we came toward the wharf again, we saw the man in a small boat coming
off from it. As the steam-boat swept round, they barely succeeded in
catching a rope from the stern, and then immediately the steam-engine
began its work again, and we pressed forward, the little boat following
us so swiftly that the water around her was all in a foam.

"They pulled upon the rope attached to the little boat until they drew
it alongside. They then let down a rope, with a hook in the end of it,
from an iron crane which projected over the side of the steam-boat, and
hooked it into a staple in the front of the small boat. '_Hoist away_!'
said the captain. The sailors hoisted, and the front part of the little
boat began to rise, the stern plowing and foaming through the water,
and the man still in it, with his trunk under his arm. They 'hoisted
away' until I began to think that the poor man would actually tumble out
behind. He clung to the seat, and looked as though he was saying to
himself, 'I will take care how I am tardy the next time.' However, after
a while, they hoisted up the stern of the boat, and he got safely on
board.

"_Moral_--Though coming to school a few minutes earlier or later may not
in itself be a matter of much consequence, yet the habit of being five
minutes too late, if once formed, will, in actual life, be a source of
great inconvenience, and sometimes of lasting injury."

NEW SCHOLARS.

There is at ------ a young ladies' school, taught by Mr. ------.

       *       *       *       *       *

"But, with all these excellences, there is one fault, which I considered
a great one, and which does not comport with the general character of
the school for kindness and good feeling. It is the little effort made
by the scholars to become acquainted with the new ones who enter.
Whoever goes there must push herself forward, or she will never feel at
home. The young ladies seem to forget that the new-comer must feel
rather unpleasantly in the midst of a hundred persons to whom she is
wholly a stranger, and with no one to speak to. Two or three will stand
together, and instead of deciding upon some plan by which the individual
may be made to feel at ease, something like the following conversation
takes place:

"_Miss X._ How do you like the looks of Miss A., who entered school
to-day?

"_Miss Y._ I don't think she is very pretty, but she looks as if she
might be a good scholar.

"_Miss X._ She does not strike me very pleasantly. Did you ever see
such a face? And her complexion is so dark, I should think she had
always lived in the open air; and what a queer voice she has!

"_Miss Y._ I wonder if she has a taste for Arithmetic?

"_Miss X._ She does not look as if she had much taste for any thing. See
how strangely she arranges her hair!

"_Miss S._ Whether she has much taste or not, some one of us ought to go
and get acquainted with her. See how unpleasantly she feels!

"_Miss X._ I don't want to get acquainted with her until I know whether
I shall like her or not.

"Thus nothing is done to relieve her. When she does become acquainted,
all her first strange appearance is forgotten; but this is sometimes not
the case for several weeks. It depends entirely on the character of the
individual herself. If she is forward, and willing to make the necessary
effort, she can find many friends; but if she is diffident, she has much
to suffer. This arises principally from thoughtlessness. The young
ladies do not seem to realize that there is any thing for them to do.
They feel enough at home themselves, and the remembrance of the time
when they entered school does not seem to arise in their minds."


A SATIRICAL SPIRIT.

I witnessed, a short time since, a meeting between two friends, who had
had but little intercourse before for a long while. I thought a part of
their conversation might be useful, and I shall therefore relate it, as
nearly as I can recollect, leaving each individual to draw her own
inferences.

For some time I sat silent, but not uninterested, while the days of
'Auld Lang Syne' came up to the remembrance of the two friends. After
speaking of several individuals who were among their former
acquaintances, one asked, 'Do you remember Miss W.? 'Yes,' replied the
former, I remember her as the fear, terror, and abhorrence of all who
knew her.' _I_ knew the lady by report, and asked why she was so
regarded. The reply was, 'Because she was so severe, so satirical in her
remarks upon others. She spared neither friend nor foe.'


"The friends resumed their conversation. 'Did you know,' said the one
who had first spoken of Miss W., 'that she sometimes had seasons of
bitter repentance for indulging in this unhappy propensity of hers? She
would, at such times, resolve to be more on her guard, but, after all
her good resolutions, she would yield to the slightest temptations. When
she was expressing, and apparently really _feeling_ sorrow for having
wounded the feelings of others, those who knew her would not venture to
express any sympathy, for, very likely, the next moment _that_ would be
turned into ridicule. No confidence could be placed in her.'

"A few more facts will be stated respecting the same individual, which I
believe are strictly true. Miss W. possessed a fine and well-cultivated
mind, great penetration, and a tact at discriminating character rarely
equaled. She could, if she chose, impart a charm to her conversation
that would interest and even fascinate those who listened to it; still,
she was not beloved. Weaknesses and foibles met with unmerciful
severity, and well-meaning intentions and kind actions did not always
escape without the keen sarcasm which it is so difficult for the best
regulated mind to bear unmoved. The mild and gentle seemed to shrink
from her; and thus she, who might have been the bright and beloved
ornament of the circle in which she moved, was regarded with distrust,
fear, and even hatred. This dangerous habit of making satirical remarks
was evinced in childhood; it was cherished; it 'grew with her growth,
and strengthened with her strength,' until she became what I have
described.
LAURA."

Though such a satirical spirit is justly condemned, a little
good-humored raillery may sometimes be allowed as a mode of attacking
faults in school which can not be reached by graver methods. The teacher
must not be surprised if some things connected with his own
administration come in sometimes for a share.

VARIETY.

"I was walking out a few days since, and not being particularly in
haste, I concluded to visit a certain school for an hour or two. In a
few minutes after I had seated myself on the sofa, the '_Study Card_'
was dropped, and the general noise and confusion indicated that recess
had arrived. A line of military characters, bearing the title of the
'Freedom's Band,' was soon called out, headed by one of their own
number. The tune chosen to guide them was Kendall's March.

"'Please to form a regular line,' said the lady commander. 'Remember
that there is to be no speaking in the ranks. Do not begin to step until
I strike the bell. Miss B., I requested you not to step until I gave the
signal.'

"Presently the command was given, and the whole line _stepped_ for a few
minutes to all intents and purposes. Again the bell sounded. 'Some of
you have lost the step,' said the general. 'Look at me, and begin again.
Left! right! left! right!' The line was once more in order, and I
observed a new army on the opposite side of the room, performing the
same manoeuvres, always to the tune of 'Kendall's March.' After a time
the recess closed, and order was again restored. In about half an hour I
approached a class which was reciting behind the railing. 'Miss A.,'
said a teacher, 'how many kinds of magnitude are there?' _Miss A._
(Answer inaudible.) _Several voices._ 'We can't hear.' _Teacher._ 'Will
you try to speak a little louder, Miss A.?"

"Some of the class at length seemed _to guess_ the meaning of the young
lady, but _I_ was unable to do even that until the answer was repeated
by the teacher. Finding that I should derive little instruction from
the recitation, I returned to the sofa.

"In a short time the _propositions_ were read. 'Proposed, that the
committee be impeached for not providing suitable pens.' 'Lost, a
pencil, with a piece of India-rubber attached to it by a blue ribbon,'
&c., &c.

"Recess was again announced, and the lines commenced their evolutions to
the tune of 'Kendall's March.' Thought I, 'Oh that there were a new tune
under the sun!'

"Before the close of school some compositions were read. One was
entitled 'The Magic King,' and commenced, 'As I was sitting alone last
evening, I heard a gentle tap on the door, and immediately a beautiful
fairy appeared before me. She placed a ring on my finger, and left me.'
The next began, 'It is my week to write composition, but I do not know
what to say. However, I must write something, so it shall be a
dialogue.' Another was entitled the 'Magical Shoe,' and contained a
marvelous narration of adventures made in a pair of shoes more valuable
than the far-famed 'seven-league boots.' A fourth began, 'Are you
acquainted with that new scholar?' 'No; but I don't believe I shall like
her.' And soon the 'Magical Thimble,' the 'Magical Eye-glass,' &c., were
read in succession, until I could not but exclaim, 'How pleasing is
variety!' School was at length closed, and the young ladies again
attacked the piano. 'Oh,' repeated I to myself, '_how pleasing is
variety!_ as I left the room to the tune of Kendall's March."

By means like these, and others similar to them, it will not be
difficult for any teacher to obtain so far an ascendency over the minds
of his pupils as to secure an overwhelming majority in favor of good
order and co-operation with him in his plans for elevating the character
of the school. But let it be distinctly understood that this, and this
only, has been the object of this chapter thus far. The first point
brought up was the desirableness of making at first a favorable
impression; the second, the necessity of taking general views of the
condition of the school, and aiming to improve it in the mass, and not
merely to rebuke or punish accidental faults; and the third, the
importance and the means of gaining a general influence and ascendency
over the minds of the pupils. But, though an overwhelming majority can
be reached by such methods as these, all can not. We must have the
majority secured, however, in order to enable us to reach and to reduce
the others. But to this work we must come at last.

4. I am, therefore, now to consider, under a fourth general head, what
course is to be taken with _individual_ offenders whom the general
influences of the school-room will not control.

The teacher must always expect that there will be such cases. They are
always to be found in the best and most skillfully-managed schools. The
following suggestions will perhaps assist the teacher in dealing with
them.

(1.) The first point to be attended to is to ascertain who they are. Not
by appearing suspiciously to watch any individuals, for this would be
almost sufficient to make them bad, if they were not so before. Observe,
however; notice, from day to day, the conduct of individuals, not for
the purpose of reproving or punishing their faults, but to enable you to
understand their characters. This work will often require great
adroitness and very close scrutiny, and you will find, as the results of
it, a considerable variety of character, which the general influences
above described will not be sufficient to control. The number of
individuals will not be great, but the diversity of character comprised
in it will be such as to call into exercise all your powers of vigilance
and discrimination. On one seat you will find a coarse, rough-looking
boy, who openly disobeys your commands and opposes your wishes while in
school, and makes himself a continual source of trouble and annoyance
during play-hours by bullying and hectoring every gentle and timid
schoolmate. On another sits a more sly rogue, whose demure and
submissive look is assumed to conceal a mischief-making disposition.
Here is one whose giddy spirit is always leading him into difficulty,
but who is of so open and frank a disposition that you will most easily
lead him back to duty; but there is another who, when reproved, will fly
into a passion; and then a third, who will stand sullen and silent
before you when he has done wrong, and is not to be touched by kindness
nor awed by authority.

[Illustration]

Now all these characters must be studied. It is true that the caution
given in a preceding part of this chapter, against devoting undue and
disproportionate attention to such persons, must not be forgotten.
Still, these individuals will require, and it is right that they should
receive, a far greater degree of attention, so far as the moral
administration of the school is concerned, than their mere numbers would
appear to justify. This is the field in which the teacher is to study
human nature, for here it shows itself without disguise. It is through
this class, too, that a very powerful moral influence is to be exerted
upon the rest of the school. The manner in which such individuals are
managed, the tone the teacher assumes toward them, the gentleness with
which he speaks of their faults, and the unbending decision with which
he restrains them from wrong, will have a most powerful effect upon the
rest of the school. That he may occupy this field, therefore, to the
best advantage, it is necessary that he should first thoroughly explore
it.

By understanding the dispositions and characters of such a class of
pupils as I have described, I do not mean merely watching them with
vigilance in school, so that none of their transgressions shall go
unobserved and unpunished. I intend a far deeper and more thorough
examination of character. Every boy has something or other which is good
in his disposition and character which he is aware of, and on which he
prides himself; find out what it is, for it may often be made the
foundation on which you may build the superstructure of reform. Every
one has his peculiar sources of enjoyment and objects of pursuit, which
are before his mind from day to day. Find out what they are, that by
taking an interest in what interests him, and perhaps sometimes
assisting him in his plans, you can bind him to you. Every boy is, from
the circumstances in which he is placed at home, exposed to temptations
which have perhaps had far greater influence in the formation of his
character than any deliberate and intentional depravity of his own;
ascertain what these temptations are, that you may know where to pity
him and where to blame. The knowledge which such an examination of
character will give you, will not be confined to making you acquainted
with the individual. It will be the most valuable knowledge which a man
can possess, both to assist him in the general administration of the
school and in his intercourse among mankind in the business of life. Men
are but boys, only with somewhat loftier objects of pursuit. Their
principles, motives, and ruling passions are essentially the same.
Extended commercial speculations are, so far as the human heart is
concerned, substantially what trading in jack-knives and toys is at
school, and building a snow fort, to its own architects, the same as
erecting a monument of marble.

(2.) After exploring the ground, the first thing to be done as a
preparation for reforming individual character in school is to secure
the personal attachment of the individuals to be reformed. This must not
be attempted by professions and affected smiles, and still less by that
sort of obsequiousness, common in such cases, which produces no effect
but to make the bad boy suppose that his teacher is afraid of him;
which, by the way, is, in fact, in such cases, usually true. Approach
the pupil in a bold and manly, but frank and pleasant manner. Approach
him as his superior, but still as his friend; desirous to make him
happy, not merely to obtain his good-will. And the best way to secure
these appearances is just to secure the reality. Actually be the boy's
friend. Really desire to make him happy--happy, too, in his own way, not
in yours. Feel that you are his superior, and that you must and will
enforce obedience; but with this, feel that probably obedience will be
rendered without any contest. If these are really the feelings which
reign within you, the boy will see it, and they will exert a strong
influence over him; but you can not counterfeit appearances.

A most effectual way to secure the good-will of a scholar is to ask him
to assist you. The Creator has so formed the human heart that doing good
must be a source of pleasure, and he who tastes this pleasure once will
almost always wish to taste it again. To do good to any individual
creates or increases the desire to do it.

There is a boy in your school who is famous for his skill in making
whistles from the green branches of the poplar. He is a bad boy, and
likes to turn his ingenuity to purposes of mischief. You observe him
some day in school, when he thinks your attention is engaged in another
way, blowing softly upon one which he has concealed in his desk for the
purpose of amusing his neighbors without attracting the attention of the
teacher. Now there are two remedies. Will you try the physical one? Then
call him out into the floor, inflict painful punishment, and send him
smarting to his seat, with his heart full of anger and revenge, to plot
some new and less dangerous scheme of annoyance. Will you try the moral
one? Then wait till the recess, and while he is out at his play, send a
message out by another boy, saying that you have heard he is very
skillful in making whistles, and asking him to make one for you to carry
home to a little child at your boarding-house. What would, in ordinary
cases, be the effect? It would certainly be a very simple application,
but its effect would be to open an entirely new train of thought and
feeling for the boy. "What!" he would say to himself, while at work on
his task, "give the master _pleasure_ by making whistles! Who would have
conceived of it? I never thought of any thing but giving him trouble and
pain. I wonder who told him I could make whistles?" He would find, too,
that the new enjoyment was far higher and purer than the old, and would
have little disposition to return to the latter.

I do not mean by this illustration that such a measure as this would be
the only notice that ought to be taken of such an act of willful
disturbance in school. Probably it would not. What measures in direct
reference to the fault committed would be necessary would depend upon
the circumstances of the case. It is not necessary to our purpose that
they should be described here.

The teacher can awaken in the hearts of his pupils a personal attachment
for him by asking in various ways their assistance in school, and then
appearing honestly gratified with the assistance rendered. Boys and
girls are delighted to have what powers and attainments they possess
brought out into action, especially where they can lead to useful
results. They love to be of some consequence in the world, and will be
especially gratified to be able to assist their teacher. Even if the
studies of a turbulent boy are occasionally interrupted for half an
hour, that he might help you arrange papers, or rule books, or
distribute exercises, it will be time well spent. Get him to co-operate
with you in any thing, and he will feel how much more pleasant it is to
co-operate than to thwart and oppose; and, by judicious measures of this
kind, almost any boy may be brought over to your side.

Another means of securing the personal attachment of boys is to notice
them, to take an interest in their pursuits, and the qualities and
powers which they value in one another. It is astonishing what an
influence is exerted by such little circumstances as stopping at a
play-ground a moment to notice with interest, though perhaps without
saying a word, speed of running, or exactness of aim, the force with
which a ball is struck, or the dexterity with which it is caught or
thrown. The teacher must, indeed, in all his intercourse with his
pupils, never forget his station, nor allow them to lay aside the
respect, without which authority can not be maintained. But he may be,
notwithstanding this, on the most intimate and familiar footing with
them all. He may take a strong and open interest in all their
enjoyments, and thus awaken on their part a personal attachment to
himself, which will exert over them a constant and powerful control.

(3.) The efforts described under the last head for gaining a personal
influence over those who, from their disposition and character, are most
in danger of doing wrong, will not be sufficient entirely to prevent
transgression. Cases of deliberate, intentional wrong will occur, and
the question will rise, What is the duty of the teacher in such an
emergency? When such cases occur, the course to be taken is, first of
all, to come to a distinct understanding on the subject with the guilty
individual. Think of the case calmly, until you have obtained just and
clear ideas of it. Endeavor to understand precisely in what the guilt of
it consists. Notice every palliating circumstance, and take as favorable
a view of the thing as you can, while, at the same time, you fix most
firmly in your mind the determination to put a stop to it. Then go to
the individual, and lay the subject before him, for the purpose of
understanding distinctly from his own lips what he intends to do. I can,
however, as usual, explain more fully what I mean by describing a
particular case, substantially true.

The teacher of a school observed himself, and learned from several
quarters, that a certain boy was in the habit of causing disturbance
during time of prayer, at the opening and close of school, by
whispering, playing, making gestures to the other boys, and throwing
things about from seat to seat. The teacher's first step was to speak of
the subject generally before the whole school, not alluding, however, to
any particular instance which had come under his notice. These general
remarks produced, as he expected, but little effect.

He waited for some days, and the difficulty still continued. Had the
irregularity been very great, it would have been necessary to have taken
more immediate measures, but he thought the case admitted of a little
delay. In the mean time, he took pains to cultivate the acquaintance of
the boy, to discover, and to show that he noticed, what was good in his
character and conduct, occasionally to ask some assistance from him, and
thus to gain some personal ascendency over him.

One day, when every thing had gone smoothly and prosperously, the
teacher told the boy, at the close of the school, that he wished to talk
with him a little, and asked him to walk home with him. It was not
uncommon for the teacher to associate thus with his pupils out of
school, and this request, accordingly, attracted no special attention.
On the walk the teacher thus accosted the criminal:

"Do you like frank, open dealing, James?"

James hesitated a moment, and then answered, faintly,

"Yes, sir."

"Most boys do, and I do, and I supposed that you would prefer being
treated in that way. Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I am going to tell you of one of your faults. I have asked you to
walk with me, because I supposed it would be more agreeable for you to
have me see you privately than to bring it up in school."

James said it would be more agreeable.

"Well, the fault is being disorderly at prayer-time. Now, if you like
frank and open dealing, and are willing to deal so with me, I should
like to talk with you a little about it, but if you are not willing, I
will dismiss the subject. I do not wish to talk with you now about it
unless you yourself desire it; but if we talk at all, we must both be
open, and honest, and sincere. Now, should you rather have me talk with
you or not?"

"Yes, sir, I should rather have you talk with me now than in school."

The teacher then described his conduct in a mild manner, using the style
of simple narration, admitting no harsh epithets, no terms of reproach.
The boy was surprised, for he supposed that he had not been noticed. He
thought, perhaps, that he should have been punished if he had been
observed. The teacher said, in conclusion,

"Now, James, I do not suppose you have done this from any designed
irreverence toward God, or deliberate intention of giving me trouble and
pain. You have several times lately assisted me in various ways, and I
know, from the cheerful manner with which you comply with my wishes,
that your prevailing desire is to give me pleasure, not pain. You have
fallen into this practice through thoughtlessness, but that does not
alter the character of the sin. To do so is a great sin against God, and
a great offense against good order in school. You see, yourself, that my
duty to the school will require me to adopt the most decided measures to
prevent the continuance and the spread of such a practice. I should be
imperiously bound to do it, even if the individual was the very best
friend I had in school, and if the measures necessary should bring upon
him great disgrace and suffering. Do you not think it would be so?"

"Yes, sir," said James, seriously, "I suppose it would."

"I wish to remove the evil, however, in the pleasantest way. Do you
remember my speaking on this subject in school the other day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, my object in what I said then was almost entirely to persuade you
to reform without having to speak to you directly. I thought it would be
pleasanter to you to be reminded of your duty in that way. But I do not
think it did you much good. Did it?"

"I don't think I have played _so much_ since then."

"Nor I. You have improved a little, but you have not decidedly and
thoroughly reformed. So I was obliged to take the next step which would
be least unpleasant to you, that is, talking with you alone. Now you
told me when we began that you would deal honestly and sincerely with
me, if I would with you. I have been honest and open. I have told you
all about it so far as I am concerned. Now I wish you to be honest, and
tell me what you are going to do. If you think, from this conversation,
that you have done wrong, and if you are fully determined to do so no
more, and to break off at once, and forever, from this practice, I
should like to have you tell me, and then the whole thing will be
settled. On the other hand, if you feel about it pretty much as you have
done, I should like to have you tell me that too, honestly and frankly,
that we may have a distinct understanding, and that I may be considering
what to do next. I shall not be offended with you for giving me either
of these answers, but be sure that you are honest; you promised to be
so."

The boy looked up in his master's face, and said, with great
earnestness,

"Mr T. I _will_ do better. I _will not_ trouble you any more."

I have detailed this case thus particularly because it exhibits clearly
what I mean by going directly and frankly to the individual, and coming
at once to a full understanding. In nine cases out of ten this course
will be effectual. For four years, with a very large school, I found
this sufficient in every case of discipline which occurred, except in
three or four instances, where something more was required. To make it
successful, however, the work must be done properly. Several things are
necessary. It must be deliberate; generally better after a little delay.
It must be indulgent, so far as the view which the teacher takes of the
guilt of the pupil is concerned; every palliating consideration must be
felt. It must be firm and decided in regard to the necessity of a
change, and the determination of the teacher to effect it. It must also
be open and frank; no insinuations, no hints, no surmises, but plain,
honest, open dealing.

In many cases the communication may be made most delicately and most
successfully in writing. The more delicately you touch the feelings of
your pupils, the more tender these feelings will become. Many a teacher
hardens and stupefies the moral sense of his pupils by the harsh and
rough exposures to which he drags out the private feelings of the heart.
A man may easily produce such a state of feeling in his schoolroom, that
to address even the gentlest reproof to any individual, in the hearing
of the next, would be a most severe punishment; and, on the other hand,
he may so destroy that sensitiveness that his vociferated reproaches
will be as unheeded as the idle wind.

If, now, the teacher has taken the course recommended in this
chapter--if he has, by his general influence in the school, done all in
his power to bring the majority of his pupils to the side of order and
discipline--if he has then studied, attentively and impartially, the
characters of those who can not thus be led--if he has endeavored to
make them his friends, and to acquire, by every means, a personal
influence over them--if, finally, when they do wrong, he goes plainly,
but in a gentle and delicate manner, to them, and lays before them the
whole case--if he has done all this, he has gone as far as moral
influence will carry him. My opinion is, that this course, faithfully
and judiciously pursued, will, in almost all instances, succeed; but it
will not in all; and where it fails, there must be other, and more
vigorous and decided measures. What these measures of restraint or
punishment shall be must depend upon the circumstances of the case; but
in resorting to them, the teacher must be decided and unbending.

The course above recommended is not trying lax and inefficient measures
for a long time in hopes of their being ultimately successful, and then,
when they are found not to be so, changing the policy. There should be,
through the whole, the tone and manner of _authority_, not of
_persuasion_. The teacher must be a _monarch_, and, while he is gentle
and forbearing, always looking on the favorable side of conduct so far
as guilt is concerned; he must have an eagle eye and an efficient hand,
so far as relates to arresting the evil and stopping the consequences.
He may slowly and cautiously, and even tenderly, approach a delinquent.
He may be several days in gathering around him the circumstances of
which he is ultimately to avail himself in bringing him to submission;
but, while he proceeds thus slowly and tenderly, he must come with the
air of authority and power. The fact that the teacher bases all his
plans on the idea of his ultimate authority in every case may be
perfectly evident to all the pupils, while he proceeds with moderation
and gentleness in all his specific measures. Let it be seen, then, that
the constitution of your school is a monarchy, absolute and unlimited;
but let it also be seen that the one who holds the power is himself
under the control of moral principle in all that he does, and that he
endeavors to make the same moral principle which guides him go as far as
it is possible to make it go in the government of his subjects.




CHAPTER V.


RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE.

[Illustration]

In consequence of the unexampled religious freedom possessed in this
country, for which it is happily distinguished above all other countries
on the face of the earth, there necessarily results a vast variety of
religious sentiment and action. We can not enjoy the blessings without
the inconveniences of freedom. Where every man is allowed to believe as
he pleases, some will, undoubtedly, believe wrong, and others will be
divided, by embracing views of a subject which are different, though
perhaps equally consistent with truth. Hence we have among us every
shade and every variety of religious opinion, and, in many cases,
contention and strife, resulting from hopeless efforts to produce
uniformity.

A stranger who should come among us would suppose, from the tone of our
religious journals, and from the general aspect of society on the
subject of religion, that the whole community was divided into a
thousand contending sects, who hold nothing in common, and whose sole
objects are the annoyance and destruction of each other. But if we leave
out of view some hundreds, or, if you please, some thousands of
theological controversialists who manage the public discussions, and say
and do all that really comes before the public on this subject, it will
be found that there is vastly more religious truth admitted by common
consent among the people of New England than is generally supposed. This
common ground I shall endeavor briefly to describe; for it is very plain
that the teacher must, in ordinary cases, confine himself to it. By
common consent, however, I do not mean the consent of every body; I mean
that of the great majority of serious, thinking men.

But let us examine first, for a moment, what right any member of the
community has to express and to disseminate his opinions with a view to
the inquiry whether the teacher is really bound to confine himself to
what he can do on this subject with the common consent of his employers.

The various monarchical nations of Europe have been for many years, as
is well known, strongly agitated with questions of politics. It is with
difficulty that public tranquillity is preserved. Every man takes sides.
Now, in this state of things, a wealthy gentleman residing in one of
these countries is opposed to the revolutionary projects so constantly
growing up there, and being, both from principle and feeling, strongly
attached to monarchical government, wishes to bring up his children with
the same feelings which he himself cherishes. He has a right to do so.
No matter if his opinions are wrong. He ought, it will be generally
supposed in this country, to be republican. I suppose him to adopt
opinions which will generally, by my readers, be considered wrong, that
I may bring more distinctly to view the right he has to educate his
children as _he thinks_ it proper that they should be educated. He may
be wrong to _form_ such opinions; but the opinions once formed, he has a
right, with which no human power can justly interfere, to educate his
children in conformity with those opinions. It is alike the law of God
and nature that the father should control, as he alone is responsible,
the education of his child.

Now, under these circumstances, he employs an American mechanic, who is
residing in Paris, to come to his house and teach his children the use
of the lathe. After some time he comes into their little work-shop, and
is astonished to find the lathe standing still, and the boys gathered
round the Republican turner, who is relating to them stories of the
tyranny of kings, the happiness of republicans, and the glory of war.
The parent remonstrates. The mechanic defends himself.

"I am a Republican," he says, "upon principle, and wherever I go I must
exert all the influence in my power to promote free principles, and to
expose the usurpations and the tyranny of kings."

To this the monarchist might very properly reply,

"In your efforts to promote your principles, you are limited, or you
ought to be limited, to modes that are proper and honorable. I employ
you for a distinct and specific purpose, which has nothing to do with
questions of government, and you ought not to allow your love of
republican principles to lead you to take advantage of the position in
which I place you, and interfere with my plans for the political
education of my children."

Now for the parallel case. A member of a Congregational society is
employed to teach a school in a district occupied exclusively by
Friends--a case not uncommon. He is employed there, not as a religious
teacher, but for another specific and well-defined object. It is for the
purpose of teaching the children of that district _reading, writing,_
and _calculation_, and for such other purposes analogous to this as the
law providing for the establishment of district schools contemplated.
Now, when he is placed in such a situation, with such a trust confided
to him, and such duties to discharge, it is not right for him to make
use of the influence which this official station gives him over the
minds of the children committed to his care for the accomplishment of
_any other purposes whatever_ which the parents would disapprove. It
would not be considered right by men of the world to attempt to
accomplish any other purposes in such a case; and are the pure and holy
principles of piety to be extended by methods more exceptionable than
those by which political and party contests are managed?

There is a very great and obvious distinction between the general
influence which the teacher exerts as a member of the community and that
which he can employ in his school-room as teacher. He has unquestionably
a right to exert _upon the community, by such means as he shares in
common with every other citizen_, as much influence as he can command
for the dissemination of his own political, or religious, or scientific
opinions. But the strong ascendency which, in consequence of his
official station, he has obtained over the minds of his pupils, is
sacred. He has no right to use it for any purpose _foreign to the
specific objects_ for which he is employed, unless _by the consent,
expressed or implied_, of those by whom he is intrusted with his charge.
The parents who send their children to him to be taught to read, to
write, and to calculate, may have erroneous views of their duty as
parents in other respects. He _may know_ that their views are erroneous.
They may be taking a, course which the teacher _knows_ is wrong. But he
has not, on this account, a right to step in between the parent and
child, to guide the latter according to his own opinions, and to violate
the wishes and thwart the plans of the former.

God has constituted the relation between the parent and the child, and
according to any view which a rational man can take of this relation,
the parent is alone responsible for the guidance he gives to that mind,
so entirely in his power. He is responsible to God; and where our
opinions in regard to the manner in which any of the duties arising
from the relation are to be performed, differ from his, we have no right
to interfere, without his consent, to rectify what we thus imagine to be
wrong. I know of but one exception which any man whatever would be
inclined to make to this principle, and that is where the parent would,
if left to himself, take such a course as would ultimately make his
children _unsafe members of society._ The _community_ have a right to
interfere in such a case, as they in fact do by requiring every man to
provide for the instruction of his children, and in some other ways
which need not now be specified. Beyond this, however, no interference
contrary to the parent's consent is justifiable. Where parents will do
wrong, notwithstanding any persuasions which we can address to them, we
must not violate the principles of an arrangement which God has himself
made, but must submit patiently to the awful consequences which will in
some cases occur, reflecting that the responsibility for these
consequences is on the head of those who neglect their duty, and that
the being who makes them liable will settle the account.

Whatever, then, the teacher attempts to do beyond the _specific_ and
_defined_ duties which are included among the objects for which he is
employed, must be done _by permission_--by the voluntary consent,
whether tacit or openly expressed, of those by whom he is employed.
This, of course, confines him to what is generally common ground among
his particular employers. In a republican country, where all his patrons
are republican, he may, without impropriety, explain and commend to his
pupils, as occasion may occur, the principles of free governments, and
the blessings which may be expected to flow from them. But it would not
be justifiable for him to do this under a monarchy, or in a community
divided in regard to this subject, because this question does not come
within the objects for the promotion of which his patrons have
associated and employed him, and consequently he has no right, while
continuing their teacher, to go into it without their consent. In the
same manner, an Episcopal teacher, in a private school formed and
supported by Episcopalians, may use and commend forms of prayer, and
explain the various usages of that church, exhibiting their excellence,
and their adaptation to the purposes for which they are intended. He may
properly do this, because, in the case supposed, the patrons of the
school are _united_ on this subject, and their _tacit consent_ may be
supposed to be given. But place the same teacher over a school of
Friends, whose parents dislike forms and ceremonies of every kind in
religion, and his duty would be changed altogether. So, if a Roman
Catholic is intrusted with the instruction of a common district school
in a community composed of many Protestant denominations, it would be
plainly his duty to avoid all influence, direct or indirect, over the
minds of his pupils, except in those religious sentiments and opinions
which are common to himself and all his employers. I repeat the
principle. _He is employed for a specific purpose, and he has no right
to wander from that purpose, except as far as he can go with the common
consent of his employers._

Now the common ground on religious subjects in this country is very
broad. There are, indeed, many principles which are, in my view,
essential parts of Christianity, which are subjects of active discussion
among us. But, setting these aside, there are other principles equally
essential, in regard to which the whole community are agreed; or, at
least, if there is a dissenting minority, it is so small that it is
hardly to be considered. Let us look at some of these principles.

1. Our community is agreed that _there is a God._ There is probably not
a school in our country where the parents of the scholars would not wish
to have the teacher, in his conversation with his pupils, take this for
granted, and allude reverently to that great Being, with the design of
leading them to realize his existence and to feel his authority.

2. Our community are agreed that _we are responsible to God for all our
conduct._ Though some persons absurdly pretend to believe that the Being
who formed this world, if, indeed, they think there is any such Being,
has left it and its inhabitants to themselves, not inspecting their
conduct, and never intending to call them to account, they are too few
among us to need consideration. A difference of opinion on this subject
might embarrass the teacher in France, and in other countries in Europe,
but not here. However negligent men may be in _obeying_ God's commands,
they do almost universally in our country admit in theory the authority
from which they come, and believing this, the parent, even if he is
aware that he himself does not obey these commands, chooses to have his
children taught to respect them. The teacher will thus be acting with
the consent of his employers, in almost any part of our country, in
endeavoring to influence his pupils to perform moral duties, not merely
from worldly motives, nor from mere abstract principles of right and
wrong, but _from regard to the authority of God._

3. The community are agreed, too, in the belief of _the immortality of
the soul._ They believe, almost without exception, that there is a
future state of being to which this is introductory and preparatory, and
almost every father and mother in our country wish to have their
children keep this in mind, and to be influenced by it in all their
conduct.

4. The community are agreed that _we have a revelation from Heaven._ I
believe there are very few instances where the parents would not be glad
to have the Bible read from time to time, its geographical and
historical meanings illustrated, and its moral lessons brought to bear
upon the hearts and lives of their children. Of course, if the teacher
is so unwise as to make such a privilege, if it were allowed him, the
occasion of exerting an influence upon one side or the other of some
question which divides the community around him, he must expect to
excite jealousy and distrust, and to be excluded from a privilege which
he might otherwise have been permitted freely to enjoy. There may, alas!
be some cases where the use of the Scriptures is altogether forbidden in
school; but probably in almost every such case it would be found that it
is from fear of its perversion to sect or party purposes, and not from
any unwillingness to have the Bible used in the way I have described.

5. The community are agreed, in theory, that _personal attachment to the
Supreme Being is the duty of every human soul;_ and every parent, with
exceptions so few that they are not worth naming, wishes that his
children should cherish that affection, and yield their hearts to its
influence. He is willing, therefore, that the teacher, of course without
interfering with the regular duties for the performance of which he
holds his office, should, from time to time, so speak of this duty, of
God's goodness to men, of his daily protection and his promised favors,
as to awaken, if possible, this attachment in the hearts of his
children. Of course, it is very easy for the teacher, if he is so
disposed, to abuse this privilege also. He can, under pretense of
awakening and cherishing the spirit of piety in the hearts of his
pupils, present the subject in such aspects and relations as to arouse
the sectarian or denominational feelings of some of his employers; but I
believe, if this was honestly and fully avoided, there are few, if any
parents in our country who would not be gratified to have the great
principle of love to God manifest itself in the instructions of the
school-room, and showing itself, by its genuine indications, in the
hearts and conduct of their children.

6. The community are agreed not only in believing that piety consists
primarily in love to God, but that _the life of piety is to be commenced
by penitence for past sins, and forgiveness, in some way or other,
through a Savior._ I am aware that one class of theological writers, in
the heat of controversy, charge the other with believing that Jesus
Christ was nothing more nor less than a teacher of religion, and there
are unquestionably individuals who take this view. But these
individuals are few. There are very few in our community who do not in
some sense look upon Jesus Christ as our _Savior_--our Redeemer; who do
not feel themselves _in some way_ indebted to him for the offer of
pardon. There may be here and there a theological student, or a
contributor to the columns of a polemical magazine, who ranks Jesus
Christ with Moses and with Paul. But the great mass of the fathers and
mothers, of every name and denomination through all the ranks of
society, look up to the Savior of sinners with something at least of the
feeling that he is the object of extraordinary affection and reverence.
I am aware, however, that I am approaching the limit which, in many
parts of our country, ought to bound the religious influence of the
teacher in a public school, and on this subject, as on every other, he
ought to do nothing directly or indirectly which would be displeasing to
those who have intrusted children to his care.

So much ground, it seems, the teacher may occupy, by common consent, in
this country, and it certainly is a great deal. It may be doubted
whether, after all our disputes, there is a country in the world whose
inhabitants have so much in common in regard to religious belief. There
is, perhaps, no country in the world where the teacher may be allowed to
do so much toward leading his pupils to fear God and to obey his
commands, with the cordial consent of parents, as he can here.[3]

[Footnote 3: In speaking of this common ground, and in commenting upon
it, I wish not to be understood that I consider these truths as
comprising all that is essential in Christianity. Very far from it. A
full expression of the Christian faith would go far in advance of all
here presented. We must not confound, however, what is essential to
prepare the way for the forgiveness of sin with what is essential that a
child should understand in order to secure his penitence and
forgiveness. The former is a great deal, the latter very little.]

The ground which I have been laying out is common all over our country;
in particular places there will be even much more that is common. Of
course the teacher, in such cases, will be at much greater liberty. If a
Roman Catholic community establish a school, and appoint a Roman
Catholic teacher, he may properly, in his intercourse with his scholars,
allude, with commendation, to the opinions and practices of that church.
If a college is established by the Methodist denomination, the teacher
of that institution may, of course, explain and enforce there the views
of that society. Each teacher is confined only to _those views which are
common to the founders and supporters of the particular institution to
which he is attached._

I trust the principle which I have been attempting to enforce is fully
before the reader's mind, namely, that moral and religious instruction
in a school being in a great degree extra-official in its nature, must
be carried no farther than the teacher can go with the common consent,
either expressed or implied, of those who have founded, and who support
his school. Of course, if those founders forbid it altogether, they have
a right to do so, and the teacher must submit. The only question that
can justly arise is whether he will remain in such a situation, or go
and seek employment where a door of usefulness, here closed against him,
will be opened. While he remains, he must honestly and fully submit to
the wishes of those in whose hands Providence has placed the ultimate
responsibility of training up the children of his school. It is only for
a partial and specific purpose that they are placed under his care.

The religious reader may inquire why I am so anxious to restrain, rather
than to urge on, the exercise of religious influence in schools. "There
is far too little," some one will say, "instead of too much, and
teachers need to be encouraged and led on in this duty, not to be
restrained from it." There is, indeed, far too little religious
influence exerted in common schools. What I have said has been intended
to prepare the way for an increase of it. My view of it is this:

If teachers do universally confine themselves to the limits which I have
been attempting to define, they may accomplish within these limits a
vast amount of good. By attempting, however, to exceed them, the
confidence of parents is destroyed or weakened, and the door is closed.
In this way, injury to a very great extent has been done in many parts
of our country. Parents are led to associate with the very idea of
religion, indirect and perhaps secret efforts to influence their
children in a way which they themselves would disapprove. They transfer
to the cause of piety itself the dislike which was first awakened by
exceptionable means to promote it; and other teachers, seeing these evil
effects, are deterred from attempting what they might easily have
accomplished. Before, therefore, attempting to enforce the duty and to
explain the methods of exerting religious influence in school, I thought
proper distinctly to state with what restrictions and within what limits
the work is to be done.

There are many teachers who profess to cherish the spirit and to
entertain the hopes of piety, who yet make no effort whatever to extend
its influence to the hearts of their pupils. Others appeal sometimes to
religious truth merely to assist them in the government of the school.
They perhaps bring it before the minds of disobedient pupils in a vain
effort to make an impression upon the conscience of one who has done
wrong, and who can not by other means be brought to submission. But the
pupil in such cases understands, or at least he believes, that the
teacher applies to religious truth only to eke out his own authority,
and of course it produces no effect. Another teacher thinks he must, to
discharge his duty, give a certain amount, weekly, of what he considers
religious instruction. Pie accordingly appropriates a regular portion of
time to a formal lecture or exhortation, which he delivers without
regard to the mental habits of thought and feeling which prevail among
his charge. He forgets that the heart must be led, not driven to piety,
and that unless his efforts are adapted to the nature of the minds he is
acting upon, and suited to influence them, he must as certainly fail of
success as when there is a want of adaptedness between the means and the
end in any other undertaking whatever.

The arrangement which seems to me as well calculated as any for the
religious exercises of a school is this:

1. In the morning, open the school with a very short prayer, resembling
in its object and length the opening prayer in the morning at
Congregational churches. The posture which, from some considerable
experience, I would recommend at this exercise, is sitting with the head
reclined upon the desk. The prayer, besides being short, should be
simple in its language and specific in its petitions. A degree of
particularity and familiarity which would be improper elsewhere is not
only allowable here, but necessary to the production of the proper
effect. That the reader may understand to what extent I mean to be
understood to recommend this, I will subjoin a form, such as in spirit I
suppose such a prayer ought to be.

"Our Father in Heaven, who hast kindly preserved the pupils and the
teacher of this school during the past night, come and grant us a
continuance of thy protection and blessing during this day. We can not
spend the day prosperously and happily without thee. Come, then, and, be
in this school-room during this day, and help us all to be faithful and
successful in duty.

"Guide the teacher in all that he may do. Give him wisdom, and patience,
and faithfulness. May he treat all his pupils with kindness; and if any
of them should do any thing that is wrong, wilt thou help him, gently
but firmly, to endeavor to bring him back to duty. May he sympathize
with the difficulties and trials of all, and promote the present
happiness as well as the intellectual progress of all who are committed
to his care.

"Take care of the pupils too. May they spend the day pleasantly and
happily together. Wilt thou, who didst originally give us all our
powers, direct and assist us all, this day, in the use and improvement
of them. Remove difficulties from our path, and give us all fidelity and
patience in every duty. Let no one of us destroy our peace and happiness
this day by breaking any of thy commands, or encouraging our companions
in sins, or neglecting, in any respect, our duty. We ask all in the name
of our great Redeemer. Amen."

Of course the prayer of each day will be varied, unless in special cases
the teacher prefers to read some form like the above. But let every one
be _minute and particular,_ relating especially to school--to school
temptations, and trials, and difficulties. Let every one be filled with
expressions relating to school, so that it will bear upon every sentence
the impression that it is the petition of a teacher and his pupils at
the throne of grace.

2. If the pupils can sing, there may be a single verse, or sometimes two
verses, of some well-known hymn sung after the prayer at the opening of
the school. Teachers will find it much easier to introduce this practice
than it would at first be supposed. In almost every school there are
enough who can sing to begin, especially if the first experiment is made
in a recess, or before or after school; and the beginning once made, the
difficulty is over. If but few tunes are sung, a very large proportion
of the scholars will soon learn them.

3. Let there be no other regular exercise until the close of the
afternoon school. When that hour has arrived, let the teacher devote a
very short period, five minutes perhaps, to religious _instruction_,
given in various ways. At one time he may explain and illustrate some
important truth. At another, read and comment upon a very short portion
of Scripture. At another, relate an anecdote or fact which will tend to
interest the scholars in the performance of duty. The teacher should be
very careful not to imitate on these occasions the formal style of
exhortation from the pulpit. Let him use no cant and hackneyed phrases,
and never approach the subject of personal piety, or speak of such
feelings as penitence for sin, trust in God, and love for the Savior,
unless his own heart is really at the time warmed by the emotions which
he wishes to awaken in others. Children very easily detect hypocrisy.
They know very well when a parent or teacher is talking to them on
religious subjects merely as a matter of course for the sake of effect,
and such constrained and formal efforts never do any good.

Let, then, every thing which you do in reference to this subject be done
with proper regard to the character and condition of the youthful mind,
and in such a way as shall be calculated to _interest_ as well as to
_instruct_. A cold and formal exhortation, or even an apparently earnest
one, delivered in a tone of affected solemnity, will produce no good
effect. Perhaps I ought not to say it will produce _no_ good effect, for
good does sometimes result as a sort of accidental consequence from
almost any thing. I mean it will have no effectual _tendency_ to do
good. You must vary your method, too, in order to interest your pupils.
Watch their countenances when you are addressing them, and see if they
look interested. If they do not, be assured that there is something
wrong, or at least something ill-judged or inefficient in your manner of
explaining the truths which you wish to have produce an effect upon
their minds.

That you may be prepared to bring moral and religious truths before
their minds in the way I have described, your own mind must take a
strong interest in this class of truths. You must habituate yourself to
look at the moral and religious aspects and relations of all that you
see and hear. When you are reading, notice such facts and remember such
narratives as you can turn to good account in this way. In the same way,
treasure up in your mind such occurrences as may come under your own
personal observation when traveling, or when mixing with society.

That the spirit and manner of these religious exercises may be the more
distinctly understood, I will give some examples.

Let us suppose, then, that the hour for closing school has come. The
books are laid aside; the room is still; the boys expect the few words
which the teacher is accustomed to address to them, and, looking up to
him, they listen to hear what he has to say.

"You may take your Bibles."

The boys, by a simultaneous movement, open their desks, and take from
them their copies of the sacred volume.

"What is the first book of the New Testament?"

"Matthew," they all answer at once.

"The second?" "Mark." "The third?" "Luke." "The next?" "John." "The
next?" "The Acts." "The next?"

Many answer, "Romans."

"The next?"

A few voices say faintly, and with hesitation, "First of Corinthians."

"I perceive your answers become fainter and fainter. Do you know what is
the last book of the New Testament?"

The boys answer promptly, "Revelations."

"Do you know what books are between the Acts and the book of
Revelation?"

Some say "No, sir;" some begin to enumerate such books as occur to them,
and some, perhaps, begin to name them promptly and in their regular
order.

"I do not mean," interrupts the teacher, "the _names_ of the books, but
the _kinds_ of books."

The boys hesitate.

"They are epistles or letters. Do you know who wrote the letters?"

"Paul," "Peter," answer many voices at once.

"Yes, there were several writers. Now the point which I wish to bring
before you is this; do you know in what order, I mean on what
principles, the books are arranged?"

"No, sir," is the universal reply.

I will tell you. First come all Paul's epistles. If you turn over the
leaves of the Testament, you will see that Paul's letters are all put
together after the book of the Acts; and what I wish you to notice is,
that they are arranged in the _order_ of _their length_. The longest
comes first, and then the next, and so on to the shortest, which is the
epistle to Philemon. This, of course, comes last--no, I am wrong in
saying it is the last of Paul's epistles; there is one more to the
Hebrews; and this comes after all the others, for there has been a good
deal of dispute whether it was really written by Paul. You will see that
his name is not at the beginning of it, as it is in his other epistles:
so it was put last.

Then comes the Epistle of James. Will you see whether it is longer than
any that come after it? The boys, after a minute's examination, answer,
"Yes, sir;" "Yes, sir."

"What comes next?"

"The epistles of Peter."

"Yes; and you will see that the longest of Peter's epistles is next in
length to that of James's; and, indeed, all his are arranged in the
order of their length."

"Yes, sir."

"What comes next?"

"John's."

"Yes; and they are arranged in the order of their length. Do you now
understand the principle of the arrangement of the epistles?"

"Yes, sir."

"I should like to have any of you who are interested in it to try to
express this principle in a few sentences, on paper, and lay it on my
desk to-morrow, and I will read what you write. You will find it very
difficult to express it. Now you may lay aside your books. It will be
pleasanter for you if you do it silently."

Intelligent children will be interested even in so simple a point as
this--much more interested than a maturer mind, unacquainted with the
peculiarities of children, would suppose. By bringing up from time to
time some such literary inquiry as this, they will be led insensibly to
regard the Bible as opening a field for interesting intellectual
research, and will more easily be led to study it.

At another time the teacher spends his five minutes in aiming to
accomplish a very different object. I will suppose it to be one of those
afternoons when all has gone smoothly and pleasantly in school. There
has been nothing to excite strong interest or emotion; and there has
been (as every teacher knows there sometimes will be), without any
assignable cause which he can perceive, a calm, and quiet, and happy
spirit diffused over the minds and countenances of the little assembly.
His evening communication should accord with this feeling, and he should
make it the occasion to promote those pure and hallowed emotions in
which every immortal mind must find its happiness, if it is to enjoy any
worth possessing.

When all is still, the teacher addresses his pupils as follows:

"I have nothing but a simple story to tell you to-night. It is true, and
the fact interested me very much when I witnessed it, but I do not know
that it will interest you now merely to hear it repeated. It is this:

"Last vacation, I was traveling in a remote and thinly-settled country,
among the mountains, in another state. I was riding with a gentleman on
an almost unfrequented road. Forests were all around us, and the houses
were small and very few.

"At length, as we were passing an humble and solitary dwelling, the
gentleman said to me, 'There is a young woman sick in this house; should
you like to go in and see her?' 'Yes, sir,' said I, 'very much. She can
have very few visitors, I think, in this lonely place, and if you think
she would like to see us, I should like to go.'

"We turned our horses toward the door, and as we were riding up, I
asked what was the matter with the young woman.

"'Consumption,' the gentleman replied; 'and I suppose she will not live
long.'

"At that moment we dismounted and entered the house. It was a very
pleasant summer afternoon, and the door was open. We entered, and were
received by an elderly lady, who seemed glad to see us. In one corner of
the room was a bed, on which was lying the patient whom we had come to
visit. She was pale and thin in her countenance, but there was a very
calm and happy expression beaming in her eye. I went up to her bedside,
and asked her how she did.

"I talked with her some time, and found that she was a Christian. She
did not seem to know whether she would get well again or not, and, in
fact, she did not appear to care much about it. She was evidently happy
then, and she believed that she should continue so. She had been
penitent for her sins, and had sought and obtained forgiveness, and
enjoyed, in her loneliness, not only the protection of God, but also his
presence in her heart, diffusing peace and happiness there. When I came
into the house, I said to myself, 'I pity, I am sure, a person who is
confined by sickness in this lonely place, with nothing to interest or
amuse her;' but when I came out, I said to myself, 'I do not pity her at
all.'"

Never destroy the effect of such a communication as this by attempting
to follow it up with an exhortation, or with general remarks, vainly
attempting to strengthen the impression.

_Never_, do I say? Perhaps there may be some exceptions. But children
are not reached by formal exhortations; their hearts are touched and
affected in other ways. Sometimes you must reprove, sometimes you must
condemn; but indiscriminate and perpetual harangues about the guilt of
impenitence, and earnest entreaties to begin a life of piety, only
harden the hearts they are intended to soften, and consequently confirm
those who hear them in the habits of sin.

In the same way a multitude of other subjects, infinite in number and
variety, may be brought before your pupils at stated seasons for
religious instruction. It is unnecessary to give any more particular
examples, but still it may not be amiss to suggest a few general
principles, which ought to guide those who are addressing the young on
every subject, and especially on the subject of religion.

1. _Make no effort to simplify language when addressing the young._
Children always observe this, and are always displeased with it, unless
they are very young; and it is not necessary. They can understand
ordinary language well enough, if the _subject_ is within their
comprehension, and treated in a manner adapted to their powers. If you
doubt whether children can understand language, tell such a story as
this, with ardor of tone and proper gesticulation, to a child only two
or three years old:

"I saw an enormous dog in the street the other day. He was sauntering
along slowly, until he saw a huge piece of meat lying down on the
ground. He grasped it instantly between his teeth, and ran away with all
speed, until he disappeared around a corner so that I could see him no
more."

In such a description there is a large number of words which such a
child would not understand if they stood alone, but the whole
description would be perfectly intelligible. The reason is, the
_subject_ is simple; the facts are such as a very little child would be
interested in; and the connection of each new word, in almost every
instance, explains its meaning. That is the way by which children learn
all language. They learn the meaning of words, not by definitions, but
by their connection in the sentences in which they hear them; and, by
long practice, they acquire an astonishing facility of doing this. It is
true they sometimes mistake, but not often, and the teacher of children
of almost any age need not be afraid that he shall not be understood.
There is no danger from his using the _language_ of men, if his subject,
and the manner in which he treats it, and the form and structure of his
sentences, are what they ought to be. Of course there may be cases, in
fact there often will be cases, where particular words will require
special explanation, but they will be comparatively few, and instead of
making efforts to avoid them, it will be better to let them come. The
pupils will be interested and profited by the explanation.

Perhaps some may ask what harm it will do to simplify language when
talking to children. "It certainly can do no injury," they may say, "and
it diminishes all possibility of being misunderstood." It does injury in
at least three ways:

(1.) It disgusts the young persons to whom it is addressed, and prevents
their being interested in what is said. I once met two children, twelve
years of age, who had just returned from hearing a very able discourse,
delivered before a number of Sabbath-schools assembled on some public
occasion. "How did you like the discourse?" said I.

"Very well indeed," they replied; "only," said one of them, smiling, "he
talked to us as if we were all little children."

Girls and boys, however young, never consider themselves little
children, for they can always look down upon some younger than
themselves. They are mortified when treated as though they could not
understand what is really within the reach of their faculties. They do
not like to have their powers underrated, and they are right in this
feeling. It is common to all, old and young.

(2.) Children are kept back in learning language if their teacher makes
effort to _come down,_ as it is called, to their comprehension in the
use of words. Notice that I say _in the use of words;_ for, as I shall
show presently, it is absolutely necessary to come down to the
comprehension of children in some other respects. If, however, in the
use of words, those who address children confine themselves to such
words as children already understand, how are they to make progress in
that most important of all studies, the knowledge of language? Many a
mother keeps back her child, in this way, to a degree that is hardly
conceivable, thus doing all in her power to perpetuate in the child an
ignorance of its mother tongue.

Teachers ought to make constant efforts to increase their scholars'
stock of words by using new ones from time to time, taking care to
explain them when the connection does not do it for them; so that,
instead of _coming down_ to the language of childhood, they ought rather
to go as far away from it as they can, without leaving their pupils
behind them.

(3.) But perhaps the greatest evil of this practice is, it satisfies the
teacher. He thinks he addresses his pupils in the right manner, and
overlooks altogether the real peculiarities in which the power to
interest the young depends. He talks to them in simple language, and
wonders why they are not interested. He certainly is _plain_ enough. He
is vexed with them for not attending to what he says, attributing it to
their dullness or regardlessness of all that is useful or good, instead
of perceiving that the great difficulty is his own want of skill. These
three evils are sufficient to deter the teacher from the practice.

2. Present your subject, not in its _general views_, but in its _minute
details_. This is the great secret of interesting the young. Present it
in its details and in its practical exemplifications; do this with any
subject whatever, and children will always be interested.

To illustrate this, let us suppose two teachers wishing to explain to
their pupils the same subject, and taking the following opposite methods
of doing it. One, at the close of school, addresses his charge as
follows:

"The moral character of any action, that is, whether it is right or
wrong, depends upon the _motives_ with which it is performed. Men look
only at the outward conduct, but God looks at the heart. In order, now,
that any action should be pleasing to God, it is necessary it should be
performed from the motive of a desire to please him.

"Now there are a great many other motives of action which prevail among
mankind besides this right one. There is love of praise, love of money,
affection for friends, and many others."

By the time the teacher has proceeded thus far, he finds, as he looks
around the room, that the countenances of his pupils are assuming a
listless and inattentive air. One is restless in his seat, evidently
paying no attention. Another has reclined his head upon his desk, lost
in a reverie, and others are looking round the room at one another, or
at the door, restless and impatient, hoping that the dull lecture will
soon be over.

The other teacher says:

"I have thought of an experiment I might try, which would illustrate to
you a very important subject. Suppose I should call one of the boys, A,
to me, and should say to him, 'I wish you to go to your seat, and
transcribe a piece of poetry as handsomely as you can. If it is written
as well as you can possibly write it, I will give you a quarter of a
dollar. Suppose I say this to him privately, so that none of the rest of
the boys can hear, and he goes to take his seat and begins to work. You
perceive that I have presented to him a motive to exertion."

"Yes, sir," say the boys, all looking with interest at the teacher,
wondering how this experiment is going to end.

"Well, what would that motive be?"

"Money." "The quarter of a dollar." "Love of money," or perhaps other
answers, are heard from the various parts of the room.

"Yes, love of money it is called. Now suppose I should call another boy,
one with whom I was particularly acquainted, and who I should know
would make an effort to please me, and should say to him, 'For a
particular reason, I want you to copy this poetry'--giving him the
same--'I wish you to copy it handsomely, for I wish to send it away, and
have not time to copy it myself. Can you do it for me?'

"Suppose the boy should say he could, and should take it to his seat and
begin, neither of the boys knowing what the other was doing. I should
now have offered to this second boy a motive. Would it be the same with
the other?"

"No, sir."

"What was the other?"

"Love of money."

"What is this?"

The boys hesitate.

"It might be called," continues the teacher, "friendship. It is the
motive of a vast number of the actions which are performed in this
world.

"Do you think of any other common motive of action besides love of money
and friendship?"

"Love of honor," says one; "fear," says another.

"Yes," continues the teacher, "both these are common motives. I might,
to exhibit them, call two more boys, one after the other, and say to the
one, 'I will thank you to go and copy this piece of poetry as well as
you can. I want to send it to the school committee as a specimen of
improvement made in this school.'

"To the other I might say, 'You have been a careless boy to-day; you
have not got your lessons well. Now take your seat and copy this poetry.
Do it carefully. Unless you take pains, and do it as well as you
possibly can, I shall punish you severely before you go home.'

"How many motives have I got now? Four, I believe."

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"Love of money, friendship, love of honor, and fear. We called the first
boy A; let us call the others B, C, and D; no, we shall remember better
to call them by the name of their motives. We will call the first M, for
money; the second, F, for friendship; the third, H, for honor; and the
last, F--we have got an F already; what shall we do? On the whole, it is
of no consequence; we will have two F's, but we will take care not to
confound them.

"But there are a great many other motives entirely distinct from these.
For example, suppose I should say to a fifth boy, 'Will you copy this
piece of poetry? It belongs to one of the little boys in school: he
wants a copy of it, and I told him I would try to get some one to copy
it for him.' This motive, now, would be benevolence; that is, if the boy
who was asked to copy it was not particularly acquainted with the other,
and did it chiefly to oblige him. We will call this boy B, for
Benevolence.

"Now suppose I call a sixth boy, and say to him, 'I have set four or
five boys to work copying this piece of poetry; now I wish you to sit
down, and see if you can not do it better than any of them. After all
are done, I will compare them, and see if yours is not the best.' This
would be trying to excite emulation. We must call this boy, then, E. But
the time I intended to devote to talking with you on this subject for
to-day is expired. Perhaps to-morrow I will take up the subject again."

The reader now will observe that the grand peculiarity of the
instructions given by this last teacher, as distinguished from those of
the first, consists in this, that the parts of the subject are presented
_in detail_, and _in particular exemplification._ In the first case, the
whole subject was dispatched in a single, general, and comprehensive
description; in the latter, it is examined minutely, one point being
brought forward at a time. The discussions are enlivened, too, by
meeting and removing such little difficulties as will naturally come up
in such an investigation. Boys and girls will take an interest in such a
lecture; they will regret to have it come to a conclusion, and will
give their attention when the subject is again brought forward on the
following day. Let us suppose the time for continuing the exercise to
have arrived. The teacher resumes the discussion thus:

"I was talking to you yesterday about the motives of action. How many
had I made?"

Some say "Four," some "Five," some "Six."

"Can you name any of them?"

The boys attempt to recollect them, and they give the names in the order
in which they accidentally occur to the various individuals. Of course
the words Fear, Emulation, Honor, Friendship, and others, come in
confused and irregular sounds from every part of the school-room.

"You do not recollect the order," says the teacher, "and it is of no
consequence, for the order I named was only accidental. Now to go on
with my account: suppose all these boys to sit down and go to writing,
each one acting under the impulse of the motive which had been presented
to him individually. But, in order to make the supposition answer my
purpose, I must add two other cases. I will imagine that one of these
boys is called away a few minutes, and leaves his paper on his desk, and
that another boy, of an ill-natured and morose disposition, happening to
pass by and see his paper, thinks he will sit down and write upon it a
few lines, just to tease and vex the one who was called away. We will
also suppose that I call another boy to me, who I have reason to believe
is a sincere Christian, and say to him, 'Here is a new duty for you to
perform this afternoon. This piece of poetry is to be copied; now do it
carefully and faithfully. You know that this morning you committed
yourself to God's care during the day; now remember that he has been
watching you all the time thus far, and that he will be noticing you all
the time you are doing this; he will be pleased if you do your duty
faithfully.'

"The boys thus all go to writing. Now suppose a stranger should come
in, and, seeing them all busy, should say to me,

"'What are all these boys doing?'

"'They are writing.'

"'What are they writing?'

"'They are writing a piece of poetry.'

"'They seem to be very busy; they are very industrious, good boys.'

"'Oh no! it is not by any means certain that they are _good_ boys.'

"'I mean that they are good boys _now_; that they are doing right at
_this time_."

'_That_ is not certain; some of them are doing right and some are doing
very wrong, though they are all writing the same piece of poetry.'

The stranger would perhaps look surprised while I said this, and would
ask an explanation, and I might properly reply as follows:

'Whether the boys are at this moment doing right or wrong depends not
so much upon what they are doing as upon the feelings of the heart with
which they are doing it. I acknowledge that they are all doing the same
thing outwardly; they are all writing the same extract, and they are all
doing it attentively and carefully, but they are thinking of very
different things.'

'What are they thinking of?'

'Do you see that boy?' I might say, pointing to one of them. 'His name
is M. He is writing for money. He is saying to himself all the time, "I
hope I shall get the quarter of a dollar." He is calculating what he
shall buy with it, and every good or bad letter that he makes, he is
considering the chance whether he shall succeed or fail in obtaining
it.'

'What is the next boy to him thinking of?'

'His name is B. He is copying to oblige a little fellow whom he
scarcely knows, and is trying to make his copy handsome, so as to give
him pleasure. He is thinking how gratified his schoolmate will be when
he receives it, and is forming plans to get acquainted with him.

"'Do you see that boy in the back seat? He has maliciously taken another
boy's place just to spoil his work. He knows, too, that he is breaking
the rules of the school in being out of his place, but he stays
notwithstanding, and is delighting himself with thinking how
disappointed and sad his schoolmate will be when he comes in and finds
his work spoiled by having another handwriting in it, when he was
depending on doing it all himself.'

"'I see,' the stranger might say by this time, 'that there is a great
difference among these boys; have you told me about them all?'

"'No,' I might reply, 'there are several others. I will only mention one
more. He sits in the middle of the second desk. He is writing carefully,
simply because he wishes to do his duty and please God. He thinks that
God is present, and loves him, and takes care of him, and he is obedient
and grateful in return. I do not mean that he is all the time thinking
of God, but love to him is his motive of effort.'

"Do you see now, boys, what I mean to teach you by this long
supposition?"

"Yes, sir."

"I presume you do. Perhaps it would be difficult for you to express it
in words; I can express it in general terms thus:

"_Our characters depend, not on what we do, but on the spirit and motive
with which we do it._ What I have been saying throws light upon one
important verse in the Bible, which I should like to have read. James,
have you a Bible in your desk?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you turn to 1 Samuel, xvi., 7, and then rise and read it? Read it
loud, so that all the school can hear."

James read as follows:

"MAN LOOKETH ON THE OUTWARD APPEARANCE, BUT GOD LOOKETH ON THE HEART."

This is the way to reach the intellect and the heart of the young. Go
_into detail._ Explain truth and duty, not in an abstract form, but
exhibit it _in actual and living examples._

(3.) Be very cautious how you bring in the awful sanctions of religion
to assist you directly in the discipline of your school. You will derive
a most powerful indirect assistance from the influence of religion in
the little community which you govern, but this will be through the
prevalence of its spirit in the hearts of your pupils, and not from any
assistance which you can usually derive from it in managing particular
cases of transgression. Many teachers make great mistakes in this
respect. A bad boy, who has done something openly and directly
subversive of the good order of the school, or the rights of his
companions, is called before the master, who thinks that the most
powerful weapon to wield against him is the Bible. So, while the
trembling culprit stands before him, he administers to him a reproof,
which consists of an almost ludicrous mixture of scolding, entreaty,
religious instruction, and threatening of punishment. But such an
occasion as this is no time to touch a bad boy's heart. He is steeled at
such a moment against any thing but mortification and the desire to get
out of the hands of the master, and he has an impression that the
teacher appeals to religious principles only to assist him to sustain
his own authority. Of course, religious truth, at such a time, can make
no good impression. There may be exceptions to this rule. There
doubtless are. I have found some; and every successful teacher who reads
this will probably call to mind some which have occurred in the course
of his own experience. I am only speaking of what ought to be the
general rule, which is to reserve religious truths for moments of a
different character altogether. Bring the principles of the Bible
forward when the mind is calm, when the emotions are quieted, and all
within is at rest; and in exhibiting them, be actuated, not by a desire
to make your duties of government easier, but to promote the real and
permanent happiness of your charge.

(4.) Do not be eager to draw from your pupils an expression of their
personal interest in religious truth. Lay before them, and enforce, by
all the means in your power, the principles of Christian duty, but do
not converse with them for the purpose of gratifying your curiosity in
regard to their piety, or your spiritual pride by counting up the
numbers of those who have been led to piety by your influence. Beginning
to act from Christian principle is the beginning of a new life, and it
may be an interesting subject of inquiry to you to ascertain how many of
your pupils have experienced the change; but, in many cases, it would
merely gratify curiosity to know. There is no question, too, that, in
very many instances, the faint glimmering of religious interest, which
would have kindled into a bright flame, is extinguished at once, and
perhaps forever, by the rough inquiries of a religious friend. Besides,
if you make inquiries, and form a definite opinion of your pupils, they
will know that this is your practice, and many a one will repose in the
belief that you consider him or her a Christian, and you will thus
increase the number, already unfortunately too large, of those who
maintain the form and pretenses of piety without its power; whose hearts
are filled with self-sufficiency and spiritual pride, and perhaps zeal
for the truths and external duties of religion, while the real spirit of
piety has no place there. They trust to some imaginary change, long
since passed by, and which has proved to be spurious by its failing of
its fruits. The best way--in fact, the only way--to guard against this
danger, especially with the young, is to show, by your manner of
speaking and acting on this subject at all times, that you regard a
truly religious life as the only evidence of piety, and that,
consequently, however much interest your pupils may apparently take in
religious instruction, they can not know, and you can not know, whether
Christian principle reigns within them in any other way than by
following them through life, and observing how, and with what spirit,
the various duties which devolve upon them are performed.

There are very many fallacious indications of piety, so fallacious and
so plausible that there are very few, even among intelligent Christians,
who are not often greatly deceived. "By their fruits ye shall know
them," said the Savior; a direction sufficiently plain, one would think,
and pointing to a test sufficiently easy to be applied. But it is slow
and tedious work to wait for fruits, and we accordingly seek a criterion
which will help us quicker to a result. You see your pupil serious and
thoughtful. It is well; but it is not proof of piety. You see him deeply
interested when you speak of his obligations to his Maker, and the
duties he owes to Him. This is well, but it is no proof of piety. You
know he reads his Bible daily, and offers his morning and evening
prayers. When you speak to him of God's goodness, and of his past
ingratitude, his bosom heaves with emotion, and the tear stands in his
eye. It is all well. You may hope that he is going to devote his life to
the service of God; but you can not know, you can not even believe with
any great confidence. These appearances are not piety. They are not
conclusive evidences of it. They are only, in the young, faint grounds
of hope that the genuine fruits of piety will appear.

I am aware that there are many persons so habituated to judging with
confidence of the piety of others from some such indications as I have
described, that they will think I carry my cautions to the extreme.
Perhaps I do; but the Savior said, "By their fruits ye shall know them,"
and it is safest to follow his direction.

By the word "fruits," however, our Savior unquestionably does not mean
the mere moral virtues of this life. The fruits to be looked at are the
fruits of _piety_, that is, indications of permanent attachment to the
Creator, and a desire to obey his commands. We must look for these.

There is no objection to your giving particular individuals special
instruction adapted to their wants and circumstances. You may do this by
writing or in other ways, but do not lead them to make up their minds
fully that they are Christians in such a sense as to induce them to feel
that the work is done. Let them understand that becoming a Christian is
_beginning_ a work, not _finishing_ it. Be cautious how you form an
opinion even yourself on the question of the genuineness of their piety.
Be content not to know. You will be more faithful and watchful if you
consider it uncertain, and they will be more faithful and watchful too.

(5.) Bring very fully and frequently before your pupils the practical
duties of religion in all their details, especially their duties at
home, to their parents, and to their brothers and sisters. Do not,
however, allow them to mistake morality for religion. Show them clearly
what piety is in its essence, and this you can do most successfully by
exhibiting its effects.

(6.) Finally, let me insert as the keystone of all that I have been
saying in this chapter, be sincere, and ardent, and consistent in your
own piety. The whole structure which I have been attempting to build
will tumble into ruins without this. Be constantly watchful and careful,
not only to maintain intimate communion with God, and to renew it daily
in your seasons of retirement, but to guard your conduct. Let piety
control and regulate it. Show your pupils that it makes you amiable,
patient, forbearing, benevolent in little things as well as in great
things, and your example will co-operate with your instructions, and
allure your pupils to walk in the paths which you tread. But no
clearness and faithfulness in religious teaching will atone for the
injury which a bad example will effect. Conduct speaks louder than
words, and no persons are more shrewd than the young to discover the
hollowness of empty professions, and the heartlessness of mere
pretended interest in their good.

I am aware that this book may fall into the hands of some who may take
little interest in the subject of this chapter. To such I may perhaps
owe an apology for having thus fully discussed a topic in which only a
part of my readers can be supposed to be interested. My apology is this:
It is obvious and unquestionable that we all owe allegiance to the
Supreme. It is so obvious and unquestionable as to be entirely beyond
the necessity of proof, for it is plain that nothing but such a bond of
union can keep the peace among the millions of distinct intelligences
with which the creation is filled. It is therefore the plain duty of
every man to establish that connection himself and his Maker which the
Bible requires, and to do what he can to bring others to the peace and
happiness of piety. These truths are so plain that they admit of no
discussion and no denial, and it seems to me highly unsafe for any man
to neglect or to postpone the performance of the duty which arises from
them. A still greater hazard is incurred when such a man, having forty
or fifty fellow-beings almost entirely under his influence, leads them,
by his example, away from their Maker, and so far that he must, in many
cases, hopelessly confirm the separation. With these views, I could not,
when writing on the duties of a teacher of the young, refrain from
bringing distinctly to view this which has so imperious a claim.




CHAPTER VI.

THE MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL.


Perhaps there is no way by which teachers can, in a given time, do more
to acquire a knowledge of their art, and an interest in it, than by
visiting each others' schools.

It is not always the case that any thing is observed by the visitor
which he can directly and wholly introduce into his own school, but what
he sees suggests to him modifications or changes, and it gives him, at
any rate, renewed strength and resolution in his work to see how similar
objects are accomplished, or similar difficulties removed by others. I
have often thought that there ought, on this account, to be far greater
freedom and frequency in the inter-change of visits than there is.

Next, however, to a visit to a school, comes the reading of a vivid
description of it. I do not mean a cold, theoretical exposition of the
general principles of its management and instruction, for these are
essentially the same in all good schools. I mean a minute account of the
plans and arrangements by which these general principles are applied.
Suppose twenty of the most successful teachers in New England would
write such a description, each of his own school, how valuable would be
the volume which should contain them!

With these views, I have concluded to devote one chapter to the
description of a school which was for several years under my care.[4]
The account was originally prepared and _printed_, but not published,
for the purpose of distribution among the scholars, simply because this
seemed to be the easiest and surest method of making them, on their
admission to the school, acquainted with its arrangements and plans. It
is addressed, therefore, throughout to a pupil, and I preserve its
original form, as, by its being addressed to pupils, and intended to
influence them, it is an example of the mode of address and the kind of
influence recommended in this work. It was chiefly designed for new
scholars; a copy of it was presented to each on the day of her admission
to the school, and it was made her first duty to read it attentively.

[Footnote 4: The author was still connected with this school at the time
when this work was written.]

The system which it describes is one which gradually grew up in the
institution under the writer's care. The school was commenced with a
small number of pupils, and without any system or plan whatever, and the
one here described was formed insensibly and by slow degrees, through
the influence of various and accidental circumstances. I have no idea
that it is superior to the plans of government and instruction adopted
in many other schools. It is true that there must necessarily be _some_
system in every large institution; but various instructors will fall
upon different principles of organization, which will naturally be such
as are adapted to the habits of thought and manner of instruction of
their respective authors, and consequently each will be best for its own
place. While, therefore, some system--some methodical arrangement is
necessary in all schools, it is not necessary that it should be the same
in all. It is not even desirable that it should be. I consider this plan
as only one among a multitude of others, each of which will be
successful, not by the power of its intrinsic qualities, but just in
proportion to the ability and faithfulness with which it is carried into
effect.

There may be features of this plan which teachers who may read it may be
inclined to adopt. In other cases, suggestions may occur to the mind of
the reader, which may modify in some degree his present plans. Others
may merely be interested in seeing how others effect what they, by other
methods, are equally successful in effecting.

It is in these and similar ways that I have often myself been highly
benefited in visiting schools and, in reading descriptions of them, and
it is for such purposes that I insert the account here.


TO A NEW SCHOLAR ON HER ADMISSION TO THE MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL.


As a large school is necessarily somewhat complicated in its plan, and
as new scholars usually find that it requires some time and gives them
no little trouble to understand the arrangements they find in operation
here, I have concluded to write a brief description of these
arrangements, by help of which you will, I hope, the sooner feel at home
in your new place of duty. That I may be more distinct and specific, I
shall class what I have to say under separate heads.


I. YOUR PERSONAL DUTY.


Your first anxiety as you come into the school-room, and take your seat
among the busy multitude, if you are conscientiously desirous of doing
your duty, will be, lest, ignorant as you are of the whole plan and of
all the regulations of the institution, you should inadvertently do what
will be considered wrong. I wish first, then, to put you at rest on this
score. There is but one rule of this school. That you can easily keep.

You will observe on one side of my desk a clock upon the wall, and not
far from it a piece of apparatus that is probably new to you. It is a
metallic plate, upon which are marked, in gilded letters, the words
"_Study Hours."_ This is upright, but it is so attached by its lower
edge to its support by means of a hinge that it can fall over from
above, and thus be in a _horizontal_ position; or it will rest in an
_inclined_ position--_half down,_ as it is called. It is drawn up and
let down by a cord passing over a pulley. When it passes either way, its
upper part touches a bell, which gives all in the room notice of its
motion.

Now when this "_Study Card"_ [5] as the scholars call it, is _up_, so
that the words "STUDY HOURS" are presented to the view of the school, it
is the signal for silence and study. THERE IS THEN TO BE NO
COMMUNICATION AND NO LEAVING OF SEATS EXCEPT AT THE DIRECTION OF
TEACHERS. When it is _half down,_ each scholar may leave her seat and
whisper, but she must do nothing which will disturb others. When it is
_down_, all the duties of school are suspended, and scholars are left
entirely to their liberty.

[Footnote 5: This apparatus has been previously described. See p. 47.]

As this is the only rule of the school, it deserves a little more full
explanation; for not only your progress in study, but your influence in
promoting the welfare of the school, and, consequently, your peace and
happiness while you are a member of it, will depend upon the strictness
with which you observe it.

Whenever, then, the study card goes up, and you hear the sound of its
little bell, immediately and instantaneously stop, whatever you are
saying. If you are away from your seat, go directly to it and there
remain, and forget in your own silent and solitary studies, so far as
you can, all that are around you. You will remember that all
_communication_ is forbidden. Whispering, making signs, writing upon
paper or a slate, bowing to any one, and, in fact, _every_ possible way
by which one person may have any sort of mental intercourse with
another, is wrong. A large number of the scholars take a pride and
pleasure in carrying this rule into as perfect an observance as
possible. They say that as this is the only rule with which I trouble
them, they ought certainly to observe this faithfully. I myself,
however, put it upon other ground. I am satisfied that it is better and
pleasanter for you to observe it most rigidly, if it is attempted to be
enforced at all.

You will ask, "Can not we obtain permission of you or of the teachers to
leave our seats or to whisper if it is necessary?" The answer is "No."
You must never ask permission of me or of the teachers. You can leave
seats or speak at the _direction_ of the teachers, that is, when they of
their own accord ask you to do it, but you are never to ask their
permission. If you should, and if any teachers should give you
permission, it would be of no avail. I have never given them authority
to grant any permissions of the kind.

You will then say, "Are we never, on any occasion whatever, to leave our
seats in study hours?" Yes, you are. There are two ways:

1. _At the direction of teachers._--Going to and from recitations is
considered as at the _direction_ of teachers. So, if a person is
requested by a teacher to transact any business, or is elected to a
public office, or appointed upon a committee, leaving seats or speaking,
so far as is really necessary for the accomplishing such a purpose, is
considered as at the direction of teachers, and is consequently right.
In the same manner, if a teacher should ask you individually, or give
general notice to the members of a class, to come to her seat for
private instruction, or to go to any part of the school-room for her, it
would be right to do it. The distinction, you observe, is this: the
teacher may, _of her own accord,_ direct any leaving of seats which she
may think necessary to accomplish the objects of the school. She must
not, however, _at the request of an individual,_ for the sake of her
mere private convenience, give her permission to speak or to leave her
seat. If, for example, a teacher should say to you in your class, "As
soon as you have performed a certain work you may bring it to me," you
would, in bringing it, be acting under her _direction_, and would
consequently do right. If, however, you should want a pencil, and should
ask her to give you leave to borrow it, even if she should give you
leave you would do wrong to go, for you would not be acting at her
_direction,_ but simply by her _consent_, and she has no authority to
grant consent.

2. The second case in which you may leave your seat is when some very
uncommon occurrence takes place, which is sufficient reason for
suspending all rules. If your neighbor is faint, you may speak to her,
and, if necessary, lead her out. If your mother or some other friend
should come into the school-room, you can go and sit with her upon the
sofa, and talk about the school.[6] And so in many other similar cases.
Be very careful not to abuse this privilege, and make slight causes the
grounds of your exceptions. It ought to be a very clear case. If a young
lady is unwell in a trifling degree, so as to need no assistance, you
would evidently do wrong to talk to her. The rule, in fact, is very
similar to that which all well-bred people observe at church. They never
speak or leave their seats unless some really important cause, such as
sickness, requires them to break over all rules and go out. You have, in
the same manner, in really important cases, such as serious sickness in
your own case or in that of your companions, or the coming in of a
stranger, or any thing else equally extraordinary, power to lay aside
any rule, and to act as the emergency may require. In using this
discretion, however, be sure to be on the safe side. In such cases,
never ask permission. You must act on your own responsibility.

[Footnote 6: A sofa was placed against the wall, by the side of the
teachers' for the accommodation of visitors.]

_Reasons for this rule._--When the school was first established, there
was no absolute prohibition of whispering. Each scholar was allowed to
whisper in relation to her studies. They were often, very often,
enjoined to be conscientious and faithful, but, as might have been
anticipated, the experiment failed. It was almost universally the
practice to whisper more or less about subjects entirely foreign to the
business of the school. This all the scholars repeatedly acknowledged;
and they almost unanimously admitted that the good of the school
required the prohibition of all communication during certain hours. I
gave them their choice, either always to ask permission when they wished
to speak, or to have a certain time allowed for the purpose, during
which free intercommunication might be allowed to all the school, with
the understanding, however, that, out of this time, no permission should
ever be asked or granted. They very wisely chose the latter plan, and
the Study Card was constructed and put up, to mark the times of free
communication and of silent study. The card was at first down every half
hour for one or two minutes. The scholars afterward thinking that their
intellectual habits would be improved and the welfare of the school
promoted by their having a longer time for uninterrupted study, of their
own accord, without any influence from me, proposed that the card should
be down only once an hour. This plan was adopted by them by vote. I wish
it to be understood that it was not _my_ plan, but _theirs_; and that I
am at any time willing to have the Study Card down once in half an hour,
whenever a majority of the scholars, voting by ballot, desire it.

You will find that this system of having a distinct time for whispering,
when all may whisper freely, all communication being entirely excluded
at other times, will at first give you some trouble. It will be hard for
you, if you are not accustomed to it, to learn conscientiously and
faithfully to comply. Besides, at first you will often need some little
information or desire to ask for an article which you might obtain in a
moment, but which you can not innocently ask for till the card is down,
and this might keep you waiting an hour. You will, however, after a few
such instances, soon learn to make your preparations beforehand, and if
you are a girl of enlarged views and elevated feelings, you will
good-humoredly acquiesce in suffering a little inconvenience yourself
for the sake of helping to preserve those _distinct_ and well _defined_
lines by which all boundaries must be marked in a large establishment,
if order and system are to be preserved at all.

Though at first you may experience a little inconvenience, you will soon
take pleasure in the scientific strictness of the plan. It will gratify
you to observe the profound stillness of the room where a hundred are
studying. You will take pleasure in observing the sudden transition from
the silence of study hours to the joyful sounds and the animating
activity of recess when the Study Card goes down; and then when it rises
again at the close of the recess, you will be gratified to observe how
suddenly the sounds which have filled the air, and made the room so
lively a scene, are hushed into silence by the single and almost
inaudible touch of that little bell. You will take pleasure in this; for
young and old always take pleasure in the strict and rigid operation of
_system_ rather than in laxity and disorder. I am convinced, also, that
the scholars do like the operation of this plan, for I do not have to
make any efforts to sustain it. With the exception that occasionally,
usually not oftener than once in several months, I allude to the
subject, and that chiefly on account of a few careless and unfaithful
individuals, I have little to say or to do to maintain the authority of
the Study Card. Most of the scholars obey it of their own accord,
implicitly and cordially. And I believe they consider this faithful
monitor not only one of the most useful, but one of the most agreeable
friends they have. We should not only regret its services, but miss its
company if it should be taken away.

This regulation then, namely, to abstain from all communication with
one another, and from all leaving of seats, at certain times which are
marked by the position of the Study Card, is the only one which can
properly be called a _rule_ of the school. There are a great many
arrangements and plans relating to the _instruction_ of the pupils, but
no other specific _rules_ relating to _their conduct._ You are, of
course, while in the school, under the same moral obligations which rest
upon you elsewhere. You must be kind to one another, respectful to
superiors, and quiet and orderly in your deportment. You must do nothing
to encroach upon another's rights, or to interrupt and disturb your
companions in their pursuits. You must not produce disorder, or be
wasteful of the public property, or do any thing else which you might
know is in itself wrong. But you are to avoid these things, not because
there are any rules in this school against them, for there are none, but
because they are in _themselves wrong_--in all places and under all
circumstances, wrong. The universal and unchangeable principles of duty
are the same here as elsewhere. I do not make rules pointing them out,
but expect that you will, through your own conscience and moral
principle, discover and obey them.

It is wrong, for instance, for you to speak harshly or unkindly to your
companions, or to do any thing to wound their feelings unnecessarily, in
any way. But this is a universal principle of duty, not a rule of
school.

So it is wrong for you to be rude and noisy, and thus disturb others who
are studying, or to brush by them carelessly, so as to jostle them at
their writing or derange their books. But to be careful not to do injury
to others in the reckless pursuit of our own pleasures is a universal
principle of duty, not a rule of school.

Such a case as this, for example, once occurred. A number of little
girls began to amuse themselves in recess with running about among the
desks in pursuit of one another, and they told me, in excuse for it,
when I called them to account, that they did not know that it was
"_against the rule"_.

[Illustration]

"It is not against the rule," said I; "I have never made any rule
against running about among the desks."

"Then," asked they, "did we do wrong?"

"Do you think it would be a good plan," I inquired, "to have it a common
amusement in the recess for the girls to hunt each other among the
desks?"

"No, sir," they replied, simultaneously.

"Why not? There are some reasons. I do not know, however, whether you
will have the ingenuity to think of them."

"We may start the desks from their places," said one.

"Yes," said I, "they are fastened down very slightly, so that I may
easily alter their position."

"We might upset the inkstands," said another.

"Sometimes," added a third, "we run against the scholars who are sitting
in their seats."

"It seems, then, you have ingenuity enough to discover the reasons. Why
did not these reasons prevent your doing it?"

"We did not think of them before."

"True; that is the exact state of the case. Now, when persons are so
eager to promote their own enjoyment as to forget the rights and the
comforts of others, it is _selfishness. _ Now is there any rule in this
school against selfishness?"

"No, sir."

"You are right. There is not. But selfishness is wrong, very wrong, in
whatever form it appears, here and every where else, and that whether I
make any rules against it or not."

You will see, from this anecdote, that, though there is but one rule of
the school, I by no means intend to say that there is only _one way of
doing wrong here._ That would be very absurd. You _must not do any thing
which you may know, by proper reflection, to be in itself wrong._ This,
however, is a universal principle of duty, not a _rule_ of the Mount
Vernon School. If I should attempt to make rules which would specify and
prohibit every possible way by which you might do wrong, my laws would
be innumerable, and even then I should fail of securing my object,
unless you had the disposition to do your duty. No legislation can enact
laws as fast as a perverted ingenuity can find means to evade them.

You will perhaps ask what will be the consequence if we transgress
either the single rule of the school or any of the great principles of
duty. In other words, What are the punishments which are resorted to in
the Mount Vernon School? The answer is, there are no punishments. I do
not say that I should not, in case all other means should fail, resort
to the most decisive measures to secure obedience and subordination.
Most certainly I should do so, as it would plainly be my duty to do it.
If you should at any time be so unhappy as to violate your obligations
to yourself, to your companions, or to me--should you misimprove your
time, or exhibit an unkind or a selfish spirit, or be disrespectful or
insubordinate to your teachers, I should go frankly and openly, but
kindly to you, and endeavor to convince you of your fault. I should very
probably do this by addressing a note to you, as I suppose this would be
less unpleasant to you than a conversation. In such a case, I shall hope
that you will as frankly and openly reply, telling me whether you admit
your fault and are determined to amend, or else informing me of the
contrary. I shall wish you to be _sincere_, and then I shall know what
course to take next. But as to the consequences which may result to you
if you should persist in what is wrong, it is not necessary that you
should know them beforehand. They who wander from duty always plunge
themselves into troubles which they do not anticipate; and if you do
what, at the time you are doing it, you know to be wrong, it will not be
unjust that you should suffer the consequences, even if they were not
beforehand understood and expected. This will be the case with you all
through life, and it will be the case here.

I say it _will_ be the case here; I ought rather to say that it will be
the case should you be so unhappy as to do wrong and to persist in it.
Such persistance, however, never occurs--at least it occurs so seldom,
and at intervals so great, that every thing of the nature of punishment,
that is, the depriving a pupil of any enjoyment, or subjecting her to
any disgrace, or giving her pain in any way in consequence of her
faults, except the simple pain of awakening conscience in her bosom, is
almost entirely unknown. I hope that you will always be ready to confess
and forsake your faults, and endeavor, while you remain in school, to
improve in character, and attain, as far as possible, every moral
excellence.

I ought to remark, before dismissing this topic, that I place very great
confidence in the scholars in regard to their moral conduct and
deportment, and they fully deserve it. I have no care and no trouble in
what is commonly called _the government of the school._ Neither myself
nor any one else is employed in any way in watching the scholars, or
keeping any sort of account of them. I should not at any time hesitate
to call all the teachers into an adjoining room, leaving the school
alone for half an hour, and I should be confident that, at such a time,
order, and stillness, and attention to study would prevail as much as
ever. The scholars would not look to see whether I was in my desk, but
whether the Study Card was up. The school was left in this way, half an
hour every day, during a quarter, that we might have a teachers'
meeting, and the studies went on generally quite as well, to say the
least, as when the teachers were present. One or two instances of
irregular conduct occurred. I do not now recollect precisely what they
were. They were, however, fully acknowledged and not repeated, and I
believe the scholars were generally more scrupulous and faithful then
than at other times. They would not betray the confidence reposed in
them. This plan was continued until it was found more convenient to have
the teachers' meetings in the afternoons.

When any thing wrong is done in school, I generally state the case, and
request the individuals who have done it to let me know who they are.
They inform me sometimes by notes and sometimes in conversation; but
they always inform me. The plan _always_ succeeds. The scholars all know
that there is nothing to be feared from confessing faults to me; but
that, on the other hand, it is a most direct and certain way to secure
returning peace and happiness.

I can illustrate this by describing a case which actually occurred,
though the description is not to be considered so much an accurate
account of what took place in a particular instance as an illustration
of the _general spirit and manner_ in which such cases are disposed of.
I accidentally understood that some of the younger scholars were in the
habit, during recesses and after school, of ringing the door-bell and
then running away, to amuse themselves with the perplexity of their
companions who should go to the door and find no one there. I explained
in a few words, one day, to the school, that this was wrong.

"How many," I then asked, "have ever been put to the trouble to go to
the door when the bell has thus been rung? They may rise."

A very large number of scholars stood up. Those who had done the
mischief were evidently surprised at the extent of the trouble they had
occasioned.

"Now," I continued, "I think all will be convinced that the trouble
which this practice has occasioned to the fifty or sixty young ladies,
who can not be expected to find amusement in such a way, is far greater
than the pleasure it can have given to the few who are young enough to
have enjoyed it. Therefore it was wrong. Do you think that the girls who
rang the bell might have known this by proper reflection?"

"Yes, sir," the school generally answered.

"I do not mean," said I, "if they had set themselves formally at work to
think about the subject, but with such a degree of reflection as ought
reasonably to be expected of little girls in the hilarity of recess and
of play."

"Yes, sir," was still the reply, but fainter than before.

"There is one way by which I might ascertain whether you were old enough
to know that this was wrong, and that is by asking those who have
refrained from doing this, because they supposed it would be wrong, to
rise. Then, if some of the youngest scholars in school should stand up,
as I have no doubt they would, it would prove that all might have known,
if they had been equally conscientious. But if I ask those to rise who
have _not_ rung the bell, I shall make known to the whole school who
they are that have done it, and I wish that the exposure of faults
should be private, unless it is _necessary_ that it should be public. I
will, therefore, not do it. I have myself, however, no doubt that all
might have known that it was wrong.

"There is," continued I, "another injury which must grow out of such a
practice. This I should not have expected the little girls could think
of. In fact, I doubt whether any in school will think of it. Can any one
tell me what it is?"

No one replied.

"I should suppose that it would lead you to disregard the bell when it
rings, and that consequently a gentleman or lady might sometimes ring in
vain, the scholars near the door saying, 'Oh, it is only the little
girls.'"

"Yes, sir," was heard from all parts of the room.

I found, from farther inquiry, that this had been the case, and I closed
by saying,

"I am satisfied that those who have inadvertently fallen into this
practice are sorry for it, and that if I should leave it here, no more
cases of it would occur, and this is all I wish. At the same time, they
who have done this will feel more effectually relieved from the pain
which having done wrong must necessarily give them, if they individually
acknowledge it to me. I wish, therefore, that all who have thus rung the
bell in play would write me notes stating the facts. If any one does not
do it, she will punish herself severely, for she will feel for many days
to come that while her companions were willing to acknowledge their
faults, she wished to conceal and cover hers. Conscience will reproach
her bitterly for her insincerity, and, whenever she hears the sound of
the door-bell, it will remind her not only of her fault, but of what is
far worse, _her willingness to appear innocent when she was really
guilty."_

Before the close of the school I had eight or ten notes acknowledging
the fault, describing the circumstances of each case, and expressing
promises to do so no more.

It is by such methods as this, rather than by threatening and
punishment, that I manage the cases of discipline which from time to
time occur; but even such as this, slight as it is, occur very seldom.
Weeks and weeks sometimes elapse without one. When they do occur, they
are always easily settled by confession and reform. Sometimes I am asked
to _forgive_ the offense. But I have no power to forgive. God must
forgive you when you do wrong, or the burden must remain. My duty is to
take measures to prevent future transgression, and to lead those who
have been guilty of it to God for pardon. If they do not go to Him,
though they may satisfy me, as principal of a school, by not repeating
the offence, they must remain _unforgiven_. I can _forget_, and I do
forget. For example, in this last case I have not the slightest
recollection of any individual who was engaged in it. The evil was
entirely removed, and had it not afforded me a convenient illustration
here, perhaps I should never have thought of it again; still, it may not
yet be _forgiven._ It may seem strange that I should speak so seriously
of God's forgiveness for such a trifle as that. Does He notice a child's
ringing a door-bell in play? He notices when a child is willing to yield
to temptation to do what she knows to be wrong, and to act even in the
slightest trifle from a selfish disregard for the convenience of others.
This spirit He always notices, and though I may stop any particular form
of its exhibition, it is for Him alone to forgive it and to purify the
heart from its power. But I shall speak more particularly on this
subject under the head of Religious Instruction.




II. ORDER OF DAILY EXERCISES.


There will be given you, when you enter the school, a blank schedule, in
which the divisions of each forenoon for one week are marked, and in
which your own employments for every half hour are to be written. (A
copy of this is inserted on page 222.)

This schedule, when filled up, forms a sort of a map for the week, in
which you can readily find what are your duties for any particular
time. The following description will enable you better to understand it.

_Opening of the School._

The first thing which will call your attention as the hour for the
commencement of the school approaches in the morning is the ringing of a
bell five minutes before the time arrives by the regulator, who sits at
the curtained desk before the Study Card. One minute before the time the
bell is rung again, which is the signal for all to take their seats and
prepare for the opening of the school. When the precise moment arrives,
the Study Card is drawn up, and at the sound of its little bell, all the
scholars recline their heads upon their desks, and unite with me in a
very short prayer for God's protection and blessing during the day. I
adopted the plan of allowing the scholars to sit, because I thought it
would be pleasanter for them, and they have, in return, been generally,
so far as I know, faithful in complying with my wish that they would all
assume the posture proposed, so that the school may present the uniform
and serious aspect which is proper when we are engaged in so solemn a
duty. If you move your chair back a little, you will find the posture
not inconvenient; but the only reward you will have for faithfully
complying with the general custom is the pleasure of doing your duty,
for no one watches you, and you would not be called to account should
you neglect to conform to the usage of the school.

I hope, however, that you will conform to it. Indeed, all truly refined
and well-bred people make it a universal rule of life to conform to the
innocent religious usages of those around them, wherever they may be.

After the prayer we sing one or two verses of a hymn. The music is led
by a piano, and we wish all to join in it who can sing. The exercises
which follow are exhibited to the eye by the diagram on the next page.


MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL

SCHEDULE OF STUDIES. 1833.

_Miss_

+---------+---------------+-----------+-----+-----------+-----+-----------+
|         |FIRST HOUR.    |SECOND HOUR|     |THIRD HOUR |     |FOURTH HOUR|
|         +---------------+-----------+--+--+-----------+--+--+-----------+
|         |EVENING LESSONS|LANGUAGES. |G.|R.|MATHEMATICS|G.|R.|SECTIONS.  |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+--+-----+-----+--+--+-----------+
|MONDAY   |        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+  +-----+-----+--+  +-----------+
|TUESDAY  |        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+  +-----+-----+--+  +-----------+
|WEDNESDAY|        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+  +-----+-----+--+  +-----------+
|THURSDAY |        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+  +-----+-----+--+  +-----------+
|FRIDAY   |        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+  +-----+-----+--+  +-----------+
|SATURDAY |        |      |     |     |  |  |     |     |  |  |           |
+---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+--+-----+-----+--+--+-----------+


I now proceed to describe in detail the several hours, as represented
in the diagram.


_First Hour._--_Evening Lessons._

The first hour of the day, as you will see by the schedule, is marked
evening lessons, because most, though not all, of the studies assigned
to it are intended to be prepared out of school. These studies are
miscellaneous in their character, comprising Geography, History, Natural
and Intellectual Philosophy, and Natural History. This hour, like all
the other hours for study, is divided into two equal parts, some classes
reciting in the first part, and others in the second. A bell is always
rung _five minutes before_ the time for closing the recitation, to give
the teachers notice that their time is nearly expired, and then again
_at the time,_ to give notice to new classes to take their places. Thus
you will observe that five minutes before the half hour expires the bell
will ring, soon after which the classes in recitation will take their
seats. Precisely at the end of the half hour it will ring again, when
new classes will take their places. In the same manner, notice is given
five minutes before the second half of the hour expires, and so in all
the other three hours.

At the end of the first hour the Study Card will be let half down five
minutes, and you will perceive that the sound of its bell will
immediately produce a decided change in the whole aspect of the room. It
is the signal, as has been before explained, for universal permission to
whisper and to leave seats, though not for loud talking or play, so that
those who wish to continue their studies may do so without interruption.
When the five-minute period has expired the card goes up again, and its
sound immediately restores silence and order.

_Second Hour._--_Languages._ We then commence the second hour of the
school. This is devoted to the study of the languages. The Latin,
French, and English classes recite at this time. By English classes I
mean those studying the English _as a language,_ that is, classes in
Grammar, Rhetoric, and Composition. The hour is divided as the first
hour is, and the bell is rung in the same way, that is, at the close of
each half hour, and also five minutes before the close, to give the
classes notice that the time for recitation is about to expire.


_First General Exercise._

You will observe, then, that there follows upon the schedule a quarter
of an hour marked G. That initial stands for General Exercise, and when
it arrives each pupil is to lay aside her work, and attend to any
exercise which may be proposed. This quarter of an hour is appropriated
to a great variety of purposes. Sometimes I give a short and familiar
lecture on some useful subject connected with science or art, or the
principles of duty. Sometimes we have a general reading lesson.
Sometimes we turn the school into a Bible class. Again, the time is
occupied in attending to some _general_ business of the school. The bell
is rung one minute before the close of the time, and when the period
appropriated to this purpose has actually expired, the Study Card, for
the first time in the morning, is let entirely down, and the room is at
once suddenly transformed into a scene of life, and motion, and gayety.


_First Recess._

The time for the recess is a quarter of an hour, and, as you will see,
it is marked R. on the schedule. We have various modes of amusing
ourselves, and finding exercise and recreation in recesses. Sometimes
the girls bring their battledores to school. Sometimes they have a large
number of soft balls with which they amuse themselves. A more common
amusement is marching to the music of the piano. For this purpose a set
of signals by the whistle has been devised, by which commands are
communicated to the school.

In these and similar amusements the recesses pass away, and one minute
before it expires the bell is rung to give notice of the approach of
study hours.

At this signal the scholars begin to prepare for a return to the
ordinary duties of school, and when, at the full expiration of the
recess, the Study Card again goes up, silence, and attention, and order
is immediately restored.


_Third Hour.--Mathematics_.

There follows next, as you will see by reference to the schedule, an
hour marked Mathematics. It is time for studying and reciting
Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, and similar studies. It is divided, as
the previous hours were, into two equal parts, and the bell is rung, as
has been described, five minutes before the close, and also precisely at
the close of each half hour.


_Second General Exercise.--Business_.

Then follow two quarter hours, appropriated like those heretofore
described, the first to a General Exercise, the second to a recess. At
the first of these the general business of the school is transacted. As
this business will probably appear new to you, and will attract your
attention, I will describe its nature and design.

At first you will observe a young lady rise at the secretary's desk to
read a journal of what was done the day before. The notices which I
gave, the arrangements I made, the subjects discussed and decided, and,
in fact, every thing important and interesting in the business or
occurrences of the preceding day, is recorded by the secretary of the
school, and read at this time. This journal ought not to be a mere dry
record of votes and business, but, as far as possible, an interesting
description, in a narrative style, of the occurrences of the day. The
secretary must keep a memorandum, and ascertain that every thing
important really finds a place in the record, but she may employ any
good writer in school to prepare, from her minutes, the full account.

After the record is read, you will observe me take from a little red
morocco wrapper which has been brought to my desk a number of narrow
slips of paper, which I am to read aloud. In most assemblies, it is
customary for any person wishing it to rise in his place and propose any
plan, or, as it is called, "make any motion" that he pleases. It would
be unpleasant for a young lady to do this in presence of a hundred
companions, and we have consequently resorted to another plan. The red
wrapper is placed in a part of the room accessible to all, and any one
who pleases writes upon a narrow slip of paper any thing she wishes to
lay before the school, and deposits it there, and at the appointed time
the whole are brought to me. These propositions are of various kinds. I
can, perhaps, best give you an idea of them by such specimens as occur
to me.

"A.B. resigns her office of copyist, as she is about to leave school."

"Proposed that a class in Botany be formed. There are many who would
like to join it."

"When will vacation commence?"

"Proposed that a music committee be appointed, so that we can have some
marching in recess."

"Proposed that school begin at nine o'clock."

"Mr. Abbott, will you have the goodness to explain to us what is meant
by the Veto Message?"

"Proposed that we have locks upon our desks."

You see that the variety is very great, and there are usually from four
or five to ten or fifteen of such papers daily. You will be at liberty
to make in this way any suggestion or inquiry, or to propose any change
you please in any part of the instruction or administration of the
school. If any thing dissatisfies you, you ought not to murmur at it in
private, or complain of it to your companions, thus injuring to no
purpose both your own peace and happiness and theirs, but you ought
immediately to bring up the subject in the way above described, that the
evil may be removed. I receive some of the most valuable suggestions in
this way from the older and most reflecting pupils. These suggestions
are read. Sometimes I decide the question that arises myself. Sometimes
I say that the pupils may decide it. Sometimes I ask their opinion and
wishes, and then, after taking them into consideration, come to a
conclusion.

For example, I will insert a few of these propositions, as these papers
are called, describing the way in which they would be disposed of. Most
of them are real cases.

"Mr. Abbott, the first class in Geography is so large that we have not
room in the recitation seats. Can not we have another place?"

After reading this, I should perhaps say, "The class in Geography may
rise and be counted." They rise. Those in each division are counted by
the proper officer, as will hereafter be explained, and the numbers are
reported aloud to me. It is all done in a moment.

"How many of you think you need better accommodations?"

If a majority of hands are raised, I say, "I wish the teacher of that
class would ascertain whether any other place of recitation is vacant,
or occupied by a smaller class at that time, and report the case to me."

"Proposed that we be allowed to walk upon the common in the recesses."

"I should like to have some plan formed by which you can walk on the
common in recesses, but there are difficulties. If all should go out
together, it is probable that some would be rude and noisy, and that
others would come back tardy and out of breath. Besides, as the recess
is short, so many would be in haste to prepare to go out, that there
would be a great crowd and much confusion in the ante-room and
passage-ways. I do not mention these as insuperable objections, but
only as difficulties which there must be some plan to avoid. Perhaps,
however, they can not be avoided. Do any of you think of any plan?"

I see, perhaps, two or three hands raised, and call upon the individuals
by name, and they express their opinions. One says that a part can go
out at a time. Another proposes that those who are tardy one day should
not go out again, &c.

"I think it possible that a plan can be formed on these or some such
principles. If you will appoint a committee who will prepare a plan, and
mature its details, and take charge of the execution of it, you may try
the experiment. I will allow it to go on as long as you avoid the evils
I have above alluded to."

A committee is then raised, to report in writing at the business hour of
the following day.

"Proposed that the Study Card be down every half hour."

"You may decide this question yourselves. That you may vote more freely,
I wish you to vote by ballot. The boxes will be open during the next
recess. The vote-receivers will write the question and place it upon the
boxes. All who feel interested in the subject may carry in their votes,
Aye or Nay. When the result is reported to me I will read it to the
school."

In this and similar ways the various business brought up is disposed of.
This custom is useful to the scholars, for it exercises and strengthens
their judgment and their reflecting powers more than almost any thing
besides; so that, if interesting them in this way in the management of
the school were of no benefit to me, I should retain the practice as
most valuable to them. But it is most useful to me and to the school. I
think that nothing has contributed more to its prosperity than the
active interest which the scholars have always taken in its concerns,
and the assistance they have rendered me in carrying my plans into
effect.

You will observe that in transacting this business very little is
actually done by myself, except making the ultimate decision. All the
details of business are assigned to teachers, or to officers and
committees appointed for the purpose. By this means we dispatch business
very rapidly. The system of offices will be explained in another place;
but I may say here that all appointments and elections are made in this
quarter hour, and by means of the assistance of these officers the
transaction of business is so facilitated that much more can sometimes
be accomplished than you would suppose possible. I consider this period
as one of the most important in the whole morning.


_Second Recess._

After the expiration of the quarter hour above described, the Study Card
is dropped, and a recess succeeds.


_Fourth Hour._--_Sections_.

In all the former part of the day the scholars are divided into
_classes_, according to their proficiency in particular branches of
study, and they resort to their _recitations_ for _instruction. _ They
now are divided into six _sections_, as we call them, and placed under
the care of _superintendents_, not for instruction, but for what may be
called supervision. _Teaching_ a pupil is not all that is necessary to
be done for her in school. There are many other things to be attended
to, such as supplying her with the various articles necessary for her
use, seeing that her desk is convenient, that her time is well arranged,
that she has not too much to do nor too little, and that no difficulty
which can be removed obstructs her progress in study or her happiness in
school. The last hour is appropriated to this purpose, with the
understanding, however, that such a portion of it as is not wanted by
the superintendent is to be spent in study. You will see, then, when the
last hour arrives, that all the scholars go in various directions to the
meetings of their respective sections. Here they remain as long as the
superintendent retains them. Sometimes they adjourn almost immediately,
perhaps after having simply attended to the distribution of pens for the
next day; at other times they remain during the hour, attending to such
exercises as the superintendent may plan. The design, however, and
nature of this whole arrangement I shall explain more fully in another
place.


_Close of the School._

As the end of the hour approaches, five minutes' notice is given by the
bell, and when the time arrives the Study Card is half dropped for a
moment before the closing exercises. When it rises again the room is
restored to silence and order. We then sing a verse or two of a hymn,
and commend ourselves to God's protection in a short prayer. As the
scholars raise their heads from the posture of reverence which they have
assumed, they pause a moment till the regulator lets down the Study
Card, and the sound of its bell is the signal that our duties at school
are ended for the day.


III. INSTRUCTION AND SUPERVISION OF PUPILS.

For the instruction of the pupils the school is divided into _classes_,
and for their general supervision into _sections_, as has been intimated
under the preceding caption. The head of a _class_ is called a
_teacher_, and the head of a _section_ a _superintendent_. The same
individual may be both the teacher of a class and the superintendent of
a section. The two offices are, however, entirely distinct in their
nature and design. As you will perceive by recalling to mind the daily
order of exercises, the classes meet and recite during the first three
hours of the school, and the sections assemble on the fourth and last.
We shall give each a separate description.

1. CLASSES.

The object of the division into classes is _instruction_. Whenever it is
desirable that several individuals should pursue a particular study, a
list of their names is made out, a book selected, a time for recitation
assigned, a teacher appointed, and the exercises begin. In this way a
large number of classes have been formed, and the wishes of parents, or
the opinion of the principal, and, in many cases, that of the pupil,
determines how many and what shall be assigned to each individual. A
list of these classes, with the average age of the members, the name of
the teacher, and the time of recitation, is posted in a conspicuous
place, and public notice is given whenever a new class is formed. You
will therefore have the opportunity to know all the arrangements of
school in this respect, and I wish you to exercise your own judgment and
discretion a great deal in regard to your studies. I do not mean I
expect you to _decide_, but to _reflect_ upon them. Look at the list,
and consider what are most useful for you. Propose to me or to your
parents changes, whenever you think they are necessary; and when you
finish one study, reflect carefully, yourself, on the question what you
shall next commence.

The scholars prepare their lessons when they please. They are expected
to be present and prepared at the time of recitation, but they make the
preparation when it is most convenient. The more methodical and
systematic of the young ladies mark the times of _study_ as well as of
_recitation_ upon their schedules, so that the employment of their whole
time at school is regulated by a systematic plan. You will observe, too,
that by this plan of having a great many classes reciting through the
first three hours of the morning, every pupil can be employed as much or
as little as her parents desire. In a case of ill health, she may, as
has often been done in such cases at the request of parents, join one or
two classes only, and occupy the whole forenoon in preparing for them,
and be entirely free from school duties at home. Or she may, as is much
more frequently the case, choose to join a great many classes, so as to
fill up, perhaps, her whole schedule with recitations, in which case she
must prepare all her lessons at home. It is the duty of teachers to take
care, however, when a pupil pleads want of time as a reason for being
unprepared in any lesson, that the case is fully examined, in order that
it may be ascertained whether the individual has joined too many
classes, in which case some one should be dropped, and thus the time and
the employments of each individual should be so adjusted as to give her
constant occupation _in school,_ and as much more as her parents may
desire. By this plan of the classes, each scholar advances just as
rapidly in her studies as her time, and talents, and health will allow.
No one is kept back by the rest. Each class goes on regularly and
systematically, all its members keeping exactly together in that study;
but the various members of it will have joined a greater or less number
of other classes, according to their age, or abilities, or progress in
study, so that all will or may have full employment for their time.

When you first enter the school, you will, for a day or two, be assigned
to but few classes, for your mind will be distracted by the excitement
of new scenes and pursuits, and the intellectual effort necessary for
_joining_ a class is greater than that requisite for _going on_ with it
after being once under way. After a few days you will come to me and
say, perhaps (for this is ordinarily the process),

"Mr. Abbott, I think I have time for some more studies."

"I will thank you to bring me your schedule," I say in reply, "so that I
can see what you have now to do."

By glancing my eye over the schedule in such a case, I see in a moment
what duties have been already assigned you, and from my general
schedule, containing all the studies of the school, I select what would
be most suitable for you after conferring with you about your past
pursuits, and your own wishes or those of your parents in regard to your
future course. Additions are thus made until your time is fully
occupied.

The manner of recitation in the classes is almost boundlessly varied.
The design is not to have you commit to memory what the book contains,
but to understand and digest it--to incorporate it fully into your own
mind, that it may come up in future life in such a form as you wish it
for use. Do not then, in ordinary cases, endeavor to fix _words_, but
_ideas_ in your minds. Conceive clearly--paint distinctly to your
imagination what is described--contemplate facts in all their bearings
and relations, and thus endeavor to exercise the judgment, and the
thinking and reasoning powers, rather than the mere memory, upon the
subjects which will come before you.


2. SECTIONS.

In describing the order of daily exercises, I alluded to the _sections_
which assemble in the last hour of the school. It is necessary that I
should fully describe the system of sections, as it constitutes a very
important part of the plan of the school.

Besides giving the scholars the necessary intellectual instruction,
there are, as I have already remarked, a great many other points which
must receive attention in order to promote their progress, and to secure
the regular operation and general welfare of the school. These various
points have something common in their nature, but it is difficult to
give them a common name. They are such as supplying the pupils with pens
and paper, and stationery of other kinds; becoming acquainted with each
individual; ascertaining that she has enough and not too much to do;
arranging her work so that no one of her duties shall interfere with
another; assisting her to discover and correct her faults, and removing
any sources of difficulty or causes of discontent which may gradually
come in her way. These, and a multitude of similar points, constituting
what may be called the general _administration_ of the school, become,
when the number of pupils is large, a most important branch of the
teacher's duty.

To accomplish these objects more effectually, the school is divided into
six sections, arranged, not according to proficiency in particular
studies, as the several classes are, but according to _age and general
maturity of mind._ Each one of these sections is assigned to the care of
a superintendent. These superintendents, it is true, during most of
school hours, are also teachers. Their duties, however, as _Teachers_
and as _Superintendents_, are entirely distinct. I shall briefly
enumerate the duties which devolve upon her in the latter capacity.

1. A superintendent ought to prepare an exact list of the members of her
section, and to become intimately acquainted with them, so as to be as
far as possible their friend and confidante, and to feel a stronger
interest in their progress in study and their happiness in school, and a
greater personal attachment to them than to any other scholars.

2. She is to superintend the preparation of their schedules; to see that
each one has enough and not too much to do, by making known to me the
necessity of a change, where such necessity exists; to see that the
schedules are submitted to the parents, and that their opinion or
suggestions, if they wish to make any, are reported to me.

3. She is to take care that all the daily wants of her section are
supplied--that all have pens and paper, and desks of suitable height. If
any are new scholars, she ought to interest herself in assisting them to
become acquainted in school; if they are friendless and alone, to find
companions for them, and to endeavor in every way to make their time
pass pleasantly and happily.

4. To watch the characters of the members of her section. To inquire of
their several teachers as to the progress they make in study, and the
faithfulness and punctuality with which they prepare their lessons. She
ought to ascertain whether they are punctual at school and regular in
their habits--whether their desks are neat and well arranged, and their
exercises carefully executed. She ought to correct, through her own
influence, any evils of this kind she may find, or else immediately to
refer the cases where this can not be done to me.

The better and the more pleasantly to accomplish the object of exerting
a favorable influence upon the characters of the members of their
section, the superintendents ought often to bring up subjects connected
with moral and religious duty in section meetings. This may be done in
the form of subjects assigned for composition, or proposed for free
discussion in writing or conversation, or the superintendents may write
themselves, and read to the section the instructions they wish to give.

When subjects for written composition are thus assigned, they should be
so presented to the pupils as to lead their minds to a very practical
mode of regarding them. For example, instead of simply assigning the
subject _Truth_ as the theme of an abstract moral essay, bring up
definite points of a practical character, such especially as are
connected with the trials and temptations of early life. "I wish you
would all give me your opinions," the teacher might say in such a case,
"on the question, What is the most frequent inducement that leads
children to tell falsehoods? Also, do you think it is right to tell
untruths to very little children, as many persons do, or to people who
are sick? Also, whether it would be right to tell a falsehood to an
insane man in order to manage him?"

Sometimes, instead of assigning a subject of composition _verbally_, the
superintendent exhibits an engraving, and the several members of the
class then write any thing they please which is suggested to them by
the engraving. For example, suppose the picture thus exhibited were to
represent a girl sewing in an attic. The compositions to which it would
give rise might be very various. One pupil would perhaps simply give an
account of the picture itself, describing the arrangements of the room,
and specifying the particular articles of furniture contained in it.
Another would give a soliloquy supposed to be spoken by the sewing-girl
as she sits at her work. Another would narrate the history of her life,
of course an imaginary one. Another would write an essay on the
advantages of industry and independence.

This is a very good way of assigning subjects of composition, and, if
well managed, it may be the means of awakening a great interest in
writing among almost all the pupils of a school.

5. Though the superintendents, as such, have, necessarily speaking, no
_teaching_ to do, still they ought particularly to secure the progress
of every pupil in what may be called the _essential_ studies, such as
reading, writing, and spelling. For this purpose, they either see that
their pupils are going on successfully in classes in school in these
branches, or they may attend to them in the section, provided that they
never allow such instruction to interfere with their more appropriate
and important duties.

In a word, the superintendents are to consider the members of their
sections as pupils confided to their care, and they are not merely to
discharge mechanically any mere routine of duty, such as can be here
pointed out, but to exert all their powers, their ingenuity, their
knowledge of human character, their judgment and discretion, in every
way, to secure for each of those committed to their care the highest
benefits which the institution to which they belong can afford. They are
to keep a careful and faithful record of their plans and of the history
of their respective sections, and to endeavor as faithfully and as
diligently to advance the interests of the members of them as if the
sections were separate and independent schools of their own.

A great responsibility is thus evidently intrusted to them, but not a great
deal of _power_. They ought not to make changes, except in very plain
cases, without referring the subject to me. They ought not to make rash
experiments, or even to try many new plans, without first obtaining my
approval of them. They ought to refer all cases which they can not easily
manage to my care. They ought to understand the distinction between _seeing
that a thing is done_ and _doing it_. For example, if a superintendent
thinks that one of her section is in too high a class in Arithmetic, her
duty is not to undertake, by her own authority, to remove her to a lower
one, for, as superintendent, she has no authority over Arithmetic classes,
nor should she go to the opposite extreme of saying, "I have no authority
over Arithmetic classes, and therefore I have nothing to do with this
case." She ought to go to the teacher of the class to which her pupil
had been unwisely assigned, converse with her, obtain her opinion, then
find some other class more suited to her attainments, and after fully
ascertaining all the facts in the case, bring them to me, that I may
make the change. This is _superintendence--looking over_ the condition
and progress of the scholar. The superintendents have thus great
responsibility, and yet, comparatively, little power. They accomplish a
great deal of good, and, in its ordinary course, it is by their direct
personal efforts; but in making changes, and remedying defects and
evils, they act generally in a different way.

The last hour of school is devoted to the sections. No classes recite
then, but the sections meet, if the superintendents wish, and attend to
such exercises as they provide. Each section has its own organization,
its own officers and plans. These arrangements of course vary in their
character according to the ingenuity and enterprise of the
superintendents, and more especially according to the talents and
intellectual ardor of the members of the section.

The two upper sections are called senior, the next two middle, and the
two younger junior. The senior sections are distinguished by using paper
for section purposes with a light blue tinge. To the middle sections is
assigned a light straw color; and to the junior, pink. These colors are
used for the schedules of the members, and for the records and other
documents of the section.

This account, though it is brief, will be sufficient to explain to you
the general principles of the plan. You will soon become acquainted with
the exercises and arrangements of the particular section to which you
will be assigned, and by taking an active interest in them, and
endeavoring to cooperate with the superintendent in all her measures and
to comply with her wishes, you will very materially add to her
happiness, and do your part toward elevating the character of the
circle to which you will belong.



IV. OFFICERS.

In consequence of the disposition early manifested by the scholars to
render me every assistance in their power in carrying into effect the
plans of the school and promoting its prosperity, I gradually adopted
the plan of assigning to various officers and committees, a number of
specific duties relating to the general business of the school. These
officers have gradually multiplied as the school has increased and as
business has accumulated. The system has, from time to time, been
revised, condensed, and simplified, and at the present time it is thus
arranged. The particular duties of each officer are minutely described
to the individuals themselves at the time of their election; all I
intend here is to give a general view of the plan, such as is necessary
for the scholars at large.

There are, then, _five departments_ of business intrusted to officers of
the school. The names of the officers, and a brief exposition of their
duties, are as follows:

[I omit the particular explanation of the duties of the officers, as the
arrangement must vary in different schools, and the details of any one
plan can only be useful in the school-room to which it belongs. It will
be sufficient to name the officers of each department, with their
duties, in general terms.]

1. REGULATORS.--To assist in the ordinary routine of business in school:
ringing the bells; managing the Study Card; distributing and collecting
papers; counting votes, &c.

2. SECRETARIES.--Keeping the records, and executing writing of various
kinds.

3. ACCOUNTANTS.--Keeping a register of the scholars, and various other
duties connected with the accounts.

4. LIBRARIANS.--To take charge of books and stationery.

5. CURATORS.--To secure neatness and good order in the apartments.

The secretaries and accountants are appointed by the principal, and
will generally be chosen from the teachers. The first in each of the
other departments are chosen by ballot, by the scholars. Each one thus
chosen nominates the second in her department, and they two the
assistants. These nominations must be approved at a teachers' meeting;
for, if a scholar is inattentive to her studies, disorderly in her desk,
or careless and troublesome in her manners, she evidently ought not to
be appointed to public office. No person can hold an office in two of
these departments. She can, if she pleases, however, resign one to
accept another. Each of these departments ought often to assemble and
consult together, and form plans for carrying into effect with greater
efficiency the objects intrusted to them. They are to keep a record of
all their proceedings, the head of the department acting as secretary
for this purpose.

The following may be given as an example of the manner in which business
is transacted by means of these officers. On the day that the above
description of their duties was written, I wished for a sort of
directory to assist the collector employed to receive payments for the
bills, and, to obtain it, I took the following steps:

At the business quarter hour I issued the following order:

"Before the close of school, I wish the distributors to leave upon each
of the desks a piece of paper" (the size I described). "It is for a
purpose which I shall then explain."

Accordingly, at some leisure moment before the close of school, each one
of the regulators went with her box to the stationery shelves, which you
will see in the corners of the room, where a supply of paper of all the
various sizes used in school is kept, and, taking out a sufficient
number, they supplied all the desks in their respective divisions.

When the time for closing school arrived, I requested each young lady to
write the name of her parent or guardian upon the paper, and opposite
to it his place of business. This was done in a minute or two.

"All those whose parent's or guardian's name begins with a letter above
_m_ may rise."

They rose.

"The distributors may collect the papers."

The officers then passed round in regular order, each through her own
division, and collected the papers.

"Deliver them at the accountants' desk."

They were accordingly carried there, and received by the accountants.

In the same manner, the others were collected and received by the
accountants, but kept separate.

"I wish now the second accountant would copy these in a little book I
have prepared for the purpose, arranging them alphabetically, referring
all doubtful cases again to me."

The second accountant then arranged the papers, and prepared them to go
into the book, and the writer who belongs to the department copied them
fairly.

I describe this case, because it was one which occurred at the time I
was writing the above description, and not because there is any thing
otherwise peculiar in it. Such cases are continually taking place, and
by the division of labor above illustrated, I am very much assisted in a
great many of the duties which would otherwise consume a great portion
of my time.

Any of the scholars may at any time make suggestions in writing to any
of these officers or to the whole school; and if an officer should be
partial, or unfaithful, or negligent in her duty, any scholar may
propose her impeachment. After hearing what she chooses to write in her
defense, a vote is taken on sustaining the impeachment. If it is
sustained, she is deprived of the office, and another appointed to fill
her place.




V. THE COURT.

I have already described how all serious cases of doing wrong or neglect
of duty are managed in the school. I manage them myself, by coming as
directly and as openly as I can to the heart and conscience of the
offender. There are, however, a number of little transgressions, too
small to be individually worthy of serious attention, but which are yet
troublesome to the community when frequently repeated. These relate
chiefly to _order in the school-rooms_. These misdemeanors are tried,
half in jest and half in earnest, by a sort of _court_, whose forms of
process might make a legal gentleman smile. They, however, fully answer
our purpose. I can best give you an idea of the court by describing an
actual trial. I ought, however, first to say that any young lady who
chooses to be free from the jurisdiction of the court can signify that
wish to me, and she is safe from it. This, however, is never done. They
all see the useful influence of it, and wish to sustain it.

Near the close of school, I find, perhaps, on my desk a paper, of which
the following may be considered a copy. It is called the indictment.

We accuse Miss A.B. of having waste papers in the aisle opposite her desk,
at 11 o'clock, on Friday, Oct. 12.
  C.D.}
  E.F.} Witnesses.

I give notice after school that a case is to be tried. Those interested,
twenty or thirty perhaps, gather around my desk, while the sheriff goes
to summon the accused and the witnesses. A certain space is marked off
as the precincts of the court, within which no one must enter in the
slightest degree, on pain of imprisonment, that is, confinement to her
seat until court adjourns.

"Miss A.B., you are accused of having an untidy floor about your desk.
Have you any objection to the indictment?"

While she is looking over the indictment to discover a misspelled word,
or an error in the date, or some other latent flaw, I appoint any two of
the by-standers jury. The jury come forward to listen to the cause.

The accused returns the indictment, saying she has no objection, and the
witnesses are called upon to present their testimony.

Perhaps the prisoner alleges in defense that the papers were out _in the
aisle_, not _under her desk_, or that she did not put them there, or
that they were too few or too small to deserve attention.

My charge to the jury would be somewhat as follows:

"You are to consider and decide whether she was guilty of disorder,
taking into view the testimony of the witnesses and also her defense. It
is considered here that each young lady is responsible not only for the
appearance of the carpet _under her desk_, but also for _the aisle
opposite to it_, so that her first ground of defense must be abandoned.
So, also, with the second, that she did not put them there. She ought
not to _have_ them there. Each scholar must keep her own place in a
proper condition; so that if disorder is found there, no matter who made
it, she is responsible if she only had time to remove it. As to the
third, you must judge whether enough has been proved by the witnesses to
make out real disorder." The jury write _guilty_ or _not guilty_ upon
the paper, and it is returned to me. If sentence is pronounced, it is
usually confinement to the seat during a recess, or part of a recess, or
something that requires a slight effort or sacrifice for the public
good. The sentence is always something _real_, though always _slight_,
and the court has a great deal of influence in a double way--making
amusement and preserving order.

The cases tried are very various, but none of the serious business of
the school is intrusted to it. Its sessions are always held out of
school hours, and, in fact, it is hardly considered by the scholars as a
constituent part of the arrangements of the school; so much so, that I
hesitated much about inserting an account of it in this description.




VI. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION.

In giving you this account, brief as it is, I ought not to omit to speak
of one feature of our plan, which we have always intended should be one
of the most prominent and distinctive characteristics of the school. The
gentlemen who originally interested themselves in its establishment had
mainly in view the exertion, by the principal, of a decided moral and
religious influence over the hearts of the pupils. Knowing, as they did,
how much more dutiful and affectionate at home you would be, how much
more successful in your studies at school, how much happier in your
intercourse with each other, and in your prospects for the future both
here and hereafter, if your hearts could be brought under the influence
of Christian principle, they were strongly desirous that the school
should be so conducted that its religious influence, though gentle and
alluring in its character, should be frank, and open, and decided. I
need not say that I myself entered very cordially into these views. It
has been my constant effort, and one of the greatest sources of my
enjoyment, to try to win my pupils to piety, and to create such an
atmosphere in school that conscience, and moral principle, and affection
for the unseen Jehovah should reign here. You can easily see how much
pleasanter it is for me to have the school controlled by such influence,
than if it were necessary for me to hire you to diligence in duty by
prizes or rewards, or to deter you from neglect or from transgression by
reproaches, and threatenings, and punishments.

The influence which the school has thus exerted has always been
cordially welcomed by my pupils, and approved, so far as I have known,
by their parents, though four or five denominations, and fifteen or
twenty different congregations, have been from time to time represented
in the school. There are few parents who would not like to have their
children _Christians_--sincerely and practically so; for everything
which a parent can desire in a child is promoted just in proportion as
she opens her heart to the influence of the spirit of piety. But that
you may understand what course is taken, I shall describe, first, what I
wish to effect in the hearts of my pupils, and then what means I take to
accomplish the object.

1. A large number of young persons of your age, and in circumstances
similar to those in which you are placed, perform with some fidelity
their various outward duties, _but maintain no habitual and daily
communion with God_. It is very wrong for them to live thus without God,
but they do not see, or, rather, do not feel the guilt of it. They only
think of their accountability to _human beings_ like themselves; for
example, their parents, teachers, brothers and sisters, and friends.
Consequently, they think most of their _external_ conduct, which is all
that human beings can see. Their i>hearts_ are neglected, and become
very impure, full of evil thoughts, and desires, and passions, which are
not repented of, and consequently not forgiven. Now what I wish to
accomplish in regard to all my pupils is, that they should begin to
_feel their accountability to God_, and to act according to it; that
they should explore their _hearts_, and ask God's forgiveness for all
their past sins, through Jesus Christ, who died for them that they might
be forgiven; and that they should from this time try to live _near to
God_, feel his presence, and enjoy that solid peace and happiness which
flows from a sense of his protection. When such a change takes place, it
relieves the mind from that constant and irritating uneasiness which the
great mass of mankind feel as a constant burden; the ceaseless
forebodings of a troubled conscience reproaching them for their past
accumulated guilt, and warning them of a judgment to come. The change
which I endeavor to promote relieves the heart both of the present
suffering and of the future danger.

After endeavoring to induce you to begin to act from Christian
principle, I wish to explain to you your various duties to yourselves,
your parents, and to God.

2. The measures to which I resort to accomplish these objects are three:

First, _Religious Exercises in School_.--We open and close the school
with a very short prayer and one or two verses of a hymn. Sometimes I
occupy ten or fifteen minutes at one of the general exercises, or at the
close of the school, in giving instruction upon practical religious
duty. The subjects are sometimes suggested by a passage of Scripture
read for the purpose, but more commonly in another way.

You will observe often, at the close of the school or at an appointed
general exercise, that a scholar will bring to my desk a dark-colored
morocco wrapper containing several small strips of paper, upon which
questions relating to moral or religious duty, or subjects for remarks
from me, or anecdotes, or short statements of facts, giving rise to
inquiries of various kinds, are written. This wrapper is deposited in a
place accessible to all the scholars, and any one who pleases deposits
in it any question or suggestion on religious subjects which may occur
to her. You can at any time do this yourself, thus presenting any doubt,
or difficulty, or inquiry which may at any time occur to you.

Secondly, _Religious Exercise on Saturday afternoon_.--In order to bring
up more distinctly and systematically the subject of religious duty, I
established, a long time ago, a religious meeting on Saturday afternoon.
It is intended for those who feel interested in receiving such
instruction, and who can conveniently attend at that time. If you have
no other engagements, and if your parents approve of it, I should be
happy to have you attend. There will be very little to interest you
except the subject itself, for I make all the instructions which I give
there as plain, direct, and practical as is in my power. A considerable
number of the scholars usually attend, and frequently bring with them
many of their female friends. You can at any time invite any one whom
you please to come to the meeting. It commences at half past three, and
continues about half an hour.

Thirdly, _Personal Religious Instruction._--In consequence of the large
number of my pupils, and the constant occupation of my time in school, I
have scarcely any opportunity of religious conversation with them, even
with those who particularly desire it. The practice has therefore
arisen, and gradually extended itself almost universally in school, of
writing to me on the subject. These communications are usually brief
notes, expressing the writer's interest in the duties of piety, or
bringing forward her own peculiar practical difficulties, or making
specific inquiries, or asking particular instruction in regard to some
branch of religious duty. I answer in a similar way, very briefly and
concisely, however, for the number of notes of this kind which I receive
is very large, and the time which I can devote to such a correspondence
necessarily limited. I should like to receive such communications from
all my pupils; for advice or instruction communicated in reply, being
directly personal, is far more likely to produce effect. Besides, my
remarks, being in writing, can be read a second time, and be more
attentively considered and reconsidered than when words are merely
spoken. These communications must always be begun by the pupil. I never
(unless there may be occasional exceptions in some few very peculiar
cases) commence. I am prevented from doing this both by my unwillingness
to obtrude such a subject personally upon those who might not welcome
it, and by want of time. I have scarcely time to write to all those who
are willing first to write to me. Many cases have occurred where
individuals have strongly desired some private communication with me,
but have hesitated long, and shrunk reluctantly from the first step. I
hope it will not be so with you. Should you ever wish to receive from
me any direct religious instruction, I hope you will write immediately
and freely. I shall very probably not even notice that it is the first
time I have received such a communication from you. So numerous and so
frequent are these communications, that I seldom observe, when I receive
one from any individual for the first time, that it comes from one who
has not written me before.

Such are the means to which I resort in endeavoring to lead my pupils to
God and to duty, and you will observe that the whole design of them is
to win and to allure, not to compel. The regular devotional exercises of
school are all which you will _necessarily_ witness. These are very
short, occupying much less time than many of the pupils think desirable.
The rest is all private and voluntary. I never make any effort to urge
any one to attend the Saturday meeting, nor do I, except in a few rare
and peculiar cases, ever address any one personally, unless she desires
to be so addressed. You will be left, therefore, in this school,
unmolested, to choose your own way. If you should choose to neglect
religious duty, and to wander away from God, I shall still do all in my
power to make you happy in school, and to secure for you in future life
such a measure of enjoyment as can fall to the share of one over whose
prospects in another world there hangs so gloomy a cloud. I shall never
reproach you, and perhaps may not even know what your choice is. Should
you, on the other hand, prefer the peace and happiness of piety, and be
willing to begin to walk in its paths, you will find many, both among
the teachers and pupils of the Mount Vernon School, to sympathize with
you, and to encourage and help you on your way.




CHAPTER VII.


SCHEMING.

[Illustration]

Some of the best teachers in our country, or, rather, of those who might
be the best, lose a great deal of their time, and endanger, or perhaps
entirely destroy, their hopes of success by a scheming spirit, which is
always reaching forward to something new. One has in his mind some new
school-book by which Arithmetic, Grammar, or Geography are to be taught
with unexampled rapidity, and his own purse to be filled in a much more
easy way than by waiting for the rewards of patient industry. Another
has the plan of a school, bringing into operation new principles of
management or instruction, which he is to establish on some favored
spot, and which is to become, in a few years, a second Hofwyl. Another
has some royal road to learning, and, though he is trammeled and held
down by what he calls the ignorance and stupidity of his trustees or his
school committee, yet, if he could fairly put his principles and methods
to the test, he is certain of advancing the science of education half a
century at least at a single leap.

Ingenuity in devising new ways, and enterprise in following them, are
among the happiest characteristics of a new country rapidly filling with
a thriving population. Without these qualities there could be no
advance; society must be stationary; and from a stationary to a
retrograde condition, the progress is inevitable. The disposition to
make improvements and changes may, however, be too great. If so, it must
be checked. On the other hand, a slavish attachment to old established
practices may prevail. Then the spirit of enterprise and experiment must
be awakened and encouraged. Which of these two is to be the duty of a
writer at any time will of course depend upon the situation of the
community at the time when he writes, and of the class of readers for
which he takes his pen. Now, at the present time, it is undoubtedly
true, that while among the great mass of teachers there may be too
little originality and enterprise, there is still among many a spirit of
innovation and change to which a caution ought to be addressed. But,
before I proceed, let me protect myself from misconception by one or two
remarks.

1. There are a few individuals in various parts of our country who, by
ingenuity and enterprise, have made real and important improvements in
many departments of our science, and are still making them. The science
is to be carried forward by such men. Let them not, therefore,
understand that any thing which I shall say applies at all to those real
improvements which are from time to time brought before the public. As
examples of this, there might easily be mentioned, were it necessary,
several new modes of study, and new text-books, and literary
institutions on new plans, which have been brought forward within a few
years, and have proved, on actual trial, to be of real and permanent
value.

These are, or rather they were, when first conceived by the original
projectors, new schemes, and the result has proved that they were good
ones. Every teacher, too, must hope that such improvements will continue
to be made. Let nothing, therefore, which shall be said on the subject
of scheming in this chapter be interpreted as intended to condemn real
improvements of this kind, or to check those which may now be in
progress by men of age or experience, or of sound judgment, who are
capable of distinguishing between a real improvement and a whimsical
innovation which can never live any longer than it is sustained by the
enthusiasm of the original inventor.

2. There are a great many teachers in our country who make their
business a mere dull and formal routine, through which they plod on,
month after month, and year after year, without variety or change, and
who are inclined to stigmatize with the appellation of idle scheming all
plans, of whatever kind, to give variety or interest to the exercises of
the school. Now whatever may be said in this chapter against unnecessary
innovation and change does not apply to efforts to secure variety in the
details of daily study, while the great leading objects are steadily
pursued. This subject has already been discussed in the chapter on
Instruction, where it has been shown that every wise teacher, while he
pursues the same great object, and adopts in substance the same leading
measures at all times, will exercise all the ingenuity he possesses, and
bring all his inventive powers into requisition to give variety and
interest to the minute details.


To explain now what is meant by such scheming as is to be condemned, let
us suppose a case which is riot very uncommon. A young man, while
preparing for college, takes a school. When he first enters upon the
duties of his office, he is diffident and timid, and walks cautiously in
the steps which precedent has marked out for him. Distrusting himself,
he seeks guidance in the example which others have set for him, and,
very probably, he imitates precisely, though it may be insensibly and
involuntarily, the manners and the plans of his own last teacher. This
servitude soon, however, if he is a man of natural abilities, passes
away; he learns to try one experiment after another, until he insensibly
finds that a plan may succeed, even if it was not pursued by his former
teacher. So far it is well. He throws greater interest into his school,
and into all its exercises, by the spirit with which he conducts them.
He is successful. After the period of his services has expired, he
returns to the pursuit of his studies, encouraged by his success, and
anticipating farther triumphs in his subsequent attempts.

He goes on through college, we will suppose, teaching from time to time
in the vacations, as opportunity occurs, taking more and more interest
in the employment, and meeting with greater and greater success. This
success is owing in a very great degree to the _freedom_ of his
practice, that is, to his escape from the thraldom of imitation. So long
as he leaves the great objects of the school untouched, and the great
features of its organization unchanged, his many plans for accomplishing
these objects in new and various ways awaken interest and spirit both in
himself and in his scholars, and all goes on well.

Now in such a case as this, a young teacher, philosophizing upon his
success and the causes of it, will almost invariably make this mistake,
namely, he will attribute to something essentially excellent in his
plans the success which, in fact, results from the novelty of them.


When he proposes something new to a class, they all take an interest in
it because it is _new_. He takes, too, a special interest in it because
it is an experiment which he is trying, and he feels a sort of pride and
pleasure in securing its success. The new method which he adopts may not
be, _in itself,_ in the least degree better than old methods, yet it may
succeed vastly better in his hands than any old method he had tried
before. And why? Why, because it is new. It awakens interest in his
class, because it offers them variety; and it awakens interest in him,
because it is a plan which he has devised, and for whose success,
therefore, he feels that his credit is at stake. Either of these
circumstances is abundantly sufficient to account for its success.
Either of these would secure success, unless the plan was a very bad one
indeed.

This may easily be illustrated by supposing a particular case. The
teacher has, we will imagine, been accustomed to teach spelling in the
usual way, by assigning a lesson in the spelling-book, which the
scholars, after studying it in their seats, recite by having the words
put to them individually in the class. After some time, he finds that
one class has lost its interest in this study. He can compel them to
study the lesson, it is true, but he perceives, perhaps, that it is a
weary task to them. Of course, they proceed with less alacrity, and
consequently with less rapidity and success. He thinks, very justly,
that it is highly desirable to secure cheerful, not forced, reluctant
efforts from his pupils, and he thinks of trying some new plan.
Accordingly, he says to them,

"Boys, I am going to try a new plan for this class."

The mere annunciation of a new plan awakens universal attention. The
boys all look up, wondering what it is to be.

"Instead of having you study your lessons in your seats, as heretofore,
I am going to let you all go together into one corner of the room, and
choose some one to read the lesson to you, spelling all the words aloud.
You will all listen, and endeavor to remember how the difficult ones are
spelled.
Do you think you can remember?"

"Yes, sir," say the boys. Children always think they _can_ do every
thing which is proposed to them as a new plan or experiment, though they
are very often inclined to think they _can not_ do what is required of
them as a task.

"You may have," continues the teacher, "the words read to you once or
twice, just as you please. Only, if you have them read but once, you
must take a shorter lesson."

He pauses and looks round upon the class. Some say "Once," some "Twice."

"I am willing that you should decide this question. How many are in
favor of having shorter lessons, and having them read but once? How many
prefer longer lessons, and having them read twice?"

After comparing the numbers, it is decided according to the majority,
and the teacher assigns or allows them to assign a lesson.

"Now," he proceeds, "I am not only going to have you study in a
different way, but recite in a different way too. You may take your
slates with you, and after you have had time to hear the lesson read
slowly and carefully twice, I shall come and dictate to you the words
aloud, and you will all write them from my dictation. Then I shall
examine your slates, and see how many mistakes are made."

Any class of boys, now, would be exceedingly interested in such a
proposal as this, especially if the master's ordinary principles of
government and instruction had been such as to interest the pupils in
the welfare of the school and in their own progress in study. They will
come together in the place assigned, and listen to the one who is
appointed to read the words to them, with every faculty aroused, and
their whole souls engrossed in the new duties assigned them. The
teacher, too, feels a special interest in his experiment. Whatever else
he may be employed about, his eye turns instinctively to this group with
an intensity of interest which an experienced teacher who has long been
in the field, and who has tried experiments of this sort a hundred
times, can scarcely conceive; for let it be remembered that I am
describing the acts and feelings of a new beginner, of one who is
commencing his work with a feeble and trembling step, and perhaps this
is his first step away from the beaten path in which he has been
accustomed to walk.

This new plan is continued, we will suppose, for a week, during which
time the interest of the pupils continues. They get longer lessons and
make fewer mistakes than they did by the old method. Now, in
speculating on this subject, the teacher reasons very justly that it is
of no consequence whether the pupil receives his knowledge through the
eye or through the ear; whether they study in solitude or in company.
The point is to secure their progress in learning to spell the words of
the English language, and as this point is secured far more rapidly and
effectually by his new method, the inference is to his mind very
obvious, that he has made a great improvement--one of real and permanent
value. Perhaps he will consider it an extraordinary discovery.

But the truth is, that in almost all such cases as this, the secret of
the success is not that the teacher has discovered a _better_ method
than the ordinary ones, but that he has discovered a _new_ one. The
experiment will succeed in producing more successful results just as
long as the novelty of it continues to excite unusual interest and
attention in the class, or the thought that it is a plan of the
teacher's own invention leads him to take a peculiar interest in it. And
this may be a month, or perhaps a quarter; and precisely the same
effects would have been produced if the whole had been reversed, that
is, if the plan of dictation had been the old one, which in process of
time had, in this supposed school, lost its interest, and the teacher,
by his ingenuity and enterprise, had discovered and introduced what is
now the common mode.

"Very well," perhaps my reader will reply, "it is surely something
gained to awaken and continue interest in a dull study for a quarter, or
even a month. The experiment is worth something as a pleasant and useful
change, even if it is not permanently superior to the other."

It is indeed worth something. It is worth a great deal; and the teacher
who can devise and execute such plans, _understanding their real place
and value, and adhering steadily through them all to the great object
which ought to engage his attention,_ is in the almost certain road to
success as an instructor. What I wish is not to discourage such efforts;
they ought to be encouraged to the utmost; but to have their real
nature and design, and the real secret of their success fully
understood, and to have the teacher, above all, take good care that all
his new plans are made, not the substitutes for the great objects which
he ought to keep steadily in view, but only the means by which he may
carry them into more full and complete effect.

In the case we are supposing, however, we will imagine that the teacher
does not do this. He fancies that he has made an important discovery,
and begins to inquire whether _the principle,_ as he calls it, can not
be applied to some other studies. He goes to philosophizing upon it, and
can find many reasons why knowledge received through the ear makes a
more ready and lasting impression than when it comes through the eye. He
attempts to apply the method to Arithmetic and Geography, and in a short
time is forming plans for the complete metamorphosis of his school. When
engaged in hearing a recitation, his mind is distracted with his schemes
and plans, and instead of devoting his attention fully to the work he
may have in hand, his thoughts are wandering continually to new schemes
and fancied improvements, which agitate and perplex him, and which elude
his efforts to give them a distinct and definite form. He thinks he
must, however, carry out his _principle_. He thinks of its applicability
to a thousand other cases. He revolves over and over again in his mind
plans for changing the whole arrangement of his school. He is again and
again lost in perplexity, his mind is engrossed and distracted, and his
present duties are performed with no interest, and consequently with
little spirit or success.

Now his error is in allowing a new idea, which ought only to have
suggested to him an agreeable change for a time in one of his classes,
to swell itself into undue and exaggerated importance, and to draw off
his mind from what ought to be the objects of his steady pursuit.

Perhaps some teacher of steady intellectual habits and a well-balanced
mind may think that this picture is fanciful, and that there is little
danger that such consequences will ever actually result from such a
cause. But, far from having exasperated the results. I am of opinion
that I might have gone much farther. There is no doubt that a great many
instances have occurred in which some simple idea like the one I have
alluded to has led the unlucky conceiver of it, in his eager pursuit,
far deeper into the difficulty than I have here supposed. He gets into a
contention with the school committee, that formidable foe to the
projects of all scheming teachers; and it would not be very difficult to
find many actual cases where the individual has, in consequence of some
such idea, quietly planned and taken measures to establish some new
institution, where he can carry on unmolested his plans, and let the
world see the full results of his wonderful discoveries.

We have in our country a very complete system of literary institutions,
so far as external organization will go, and the prospect of success is
far more favorable in efforts to carry these institutions into more
complete and prosperous operation, than in plans for changing them, or
substituting others in their stead. Were it not that such a course would
be unjust to individuals, a long and melancholy catalogue might easily
be made out of abortive plans which have sprung up in the minds of young
men in the manner I have described, and which, after perhaps temporary
success, have resulted in partial or total failure. These failures are
of every kind. Some are school-books on a new plan, which succeeds in
the inventor's hand chiefly on account of the spirit which carried it
into effect, but which in ordinary hands, and under ordinary
circumstances, and especially after long-continued use, have failed of
exhibiting any superiority. Others are institutions, commenced with
great zeal by the projectors, and which prosper just as long as that
zeal continues. Zeal will make any thing succeed for a time. Others are
new plans of instruction or government, generally founded on some good
principle carried to an extreme, or made to grow into exaggerated and
disproportionate importance. Examples almost innumerable of these things
might be particularized, if it were proper, and it would be found, upon
examination, that the amount of ingenuity and labor wasted upon such
attempts would have been sufficient, if properly expended, to have
elevated very considerably the standard of education, and to have placed
existing institutions in a far more prosperous and thriving state than
they now exhibit.

The reader will perhaps ask, Shall we make no efforts at improvement?
Must every thing in education go on in a uniform and monotonous manner,
and, while all else is advancing, shall our cause alone stand still? By
no means. It must advance; but let it advance mainly by the industry and
fidelity of those who are employed in it; by changes slowly and
cautiously made; not by great efforts to reach forward to brilliant
discoveries, which will draw off the attention from essential duties,
and, after leading the projector through perplexities and difficulties
without number, end in mortification and failure.

Were I to give a few concise and summary directions in regard to this
subject to a young teacher, they would be the following:

1. Examine thoroughly the system of public and private schools as now
constituted in most of the states of this Union, until you fully
understand it and appreciate its excellences and its completeness; see
how fully it provides for the wants of the various classes of our
population.

By this I mean to refer only to the completeness of the _system_ as a
system of organization. I do not refer at all to the internal management
of these institutions; this last is, of course, a field for immediate
and universal effort at progress and improvement.

2. If, after fully understanding this system as it now exists, you are
of opinion that something more is necessary; if you think some classes
of the community are not fully provided for, or that some of our
institutions may be advantageously exchanged for others, the plan of
which you have in mind, consider whether your age, and experience, and
standing as an instructor are such as to enable you to place confidence
in your opinion.

I do not mean by this that a young man may not make a useful discovery,
but only that he may be led away by the ardor of early life to fancy
that essential and important which is really not so. It is important
that each one should determine whether this is not the case with
himself, if his mind is revolving some new plan.

3. Perhaps you are contemplating only a single new institution, which is
to depend for its success on yourself and some coadjutors whom you have
in mind and whom you well know. If this is the case, consider whether
the establishment you are contemplating can be carried on, after you
shall have left it, by such men as can ordinarily be obtained. If the
plan is founded on some peculiar notions of your own, which would enable
you to succeed in it when others, who might also be interested in such a
scheme, would probably fail, consider whether there may not be danger
that your plan may be imitated by others who can not carry it into
successful operation, so that it may be the indirect means of doing
injury. A man is, in some degree, responsible for his example and for
the consequences which may indirectly flow from his course, as well as
for the immediate results which he produces. The Fellenberg school at
Hofwyl was perhaps, by its direct results, as successful for a time as
any other institution in the world; but there is a great offset to the
good which it has thus done to be found in the history of the thousand
wretched imitations of it which have been started only to linger a
little while and die, and in which a vast amount of time, and talent,
and money have been wasted.

[Illustration]

4. Consider the influence you may have upon the other institutions of
our country, by attaching yourself to some one under the existing
organization. If you take an academy or a private school, constituted
and organized like other similar institutions, success in your own will
give you influence over others. A successful teacher of an academy
raises the general standard of academic instruction. A college
professor, if he brings extraordinary talents to bear upon the regular
duties of that office, throws light, universally, upon the whole science
of college discipline and instruction, and thus aids in infusing a
continually renewed life and vigor into those venerable seats of
learning that might otherwise sink into decrepitude and decay. By going,
however, to some new field, establishing some new and fanciful
institution, you take yourself from such a sphere; you exert no
influence over others, except upon feeble imitators, who fail in their
attempts, and bring discredit upon your plans by the awkwardness with
which they attempt to adopt them. How much more service, then, to the
cause of education will a man of genius render, by falling in with the
regularly organized institutions of the country and elevating them, than
if in early life he were to devote his powers to some magnificent
project of an establishment to which his talents would unquestionably
have given temporary success, but which would have taken him away from
the community of teachers, and confined the results of his labors to the
more immediate effects which his daily duties might produce.

5. Perhaps, however, your plan is not the establishment of some new
institution, but the introduction of some new study or pursuit into the
one with which you are connected. Before, however, you interrupt the
regular arrangements of your school to make such a change, consider
carefully what is the real and appropriate object of your institution.
Every thing is not to be done in school. The principles of division of
labor apply with peculiar force to this employment; so that you must not
only consider whether the branch which you are now disposed to introduce
is important, but whether it is really such an one as it is on the whole
best to include among the objects to be pursued in such an institution.
Many teachers seem to imagine that if any thing is in itself important,
and especially if it is an important branch of education, the question
is settled of its being a proper object of attention in school. But this
is very far from being the case. The whole work of education can never
be intrusted to the teacher. Much must of course remain in the hands of
the parent; it ought so to remain. The object of a school is not to take
children out of the parental hands, substituting the watch and
guardianship of a stranger for the natural care of father and mother.
Far from it. It is only the association of the children for those
purposes which can be more successfully accomplished by association. It
is a union for few, specific, and limited objects, for the
accomplishment of that part (and it is comparatively a small part of
the general objects of education) which can be most successfully
effected by public institutions and in assemblies of the young.

6. If the branch which you are desiring to introduce appears to you to
be an important part of education, and if it seems to you that it can be
most successfully attended to in schools, then consider whether the
introduction of it, _and of all the other branches having equal claims_,
will or will not give to the common schools too great a complexity.
Consider whether it will succeed in the hands of ordinary teachers.
Consider whether it will require so much time and effort as will draw
off in any considerable degree, the attention of the teacher from the
more essential parts of his duty. All will admit that it is highly
important that every school should be simple in its plan--as simple as
its size and general circumstances will permit, and especially that the
public schools in every town and village of our country should never
lose sight of what is and must be, after all, their great
design--_teaching the whole population to ready write, and calculate._

7. If it is a school-book which you are wishing to introduce, consider
well before you waste your time in preparing it, and your spirits in the
vexatious work of getting it through the press; whether it is, _for
general use_, so superior to those already published as to induce
teachers to make a change in favor of yours. I have italicized the words
_for general use_, for no delusion is more common than for a teacher to
suppose that because a text-book which he has prepared and uses in
manuscript is better for _him_ than any other work which he can obtain,
it will therefore be better for _general circulation_. Every man, if he
has any originality of mind, has of course some peculiar method of his
own, and he can of course prepare a text-book which will be better
adapted to this method than those ordinarily in use. The history of a
vast number of text-books, Arithmetics, Geographies, and Grammars, is
this: A man of somewhat ingenious mind, adopts some peculiar mode of
instruction in one of these branches, and is quite successful, not
because the method has any very peculiar excellence, but simply because
he takes a greater interest in it, both on account of its novelty and
also from the fact that it is his own invention. He conceives the plan
of writing a text-book to develop and illustrate this method. He hurries
through the work. By some means or other he gets it printed. In due time
it is regularly advertised. The journals of education give notice of it;
the author sends a few copies to his friends, and that is the end of it.
Perhaps a few schools may make a trial of it, and if, for any reason,
the teachers who try it are interested in the work, probably in their
hands it succeeds. But it does not succeed so well as to attract general
attention, and consequently does not get into general circulation. The
author loses his time and his patience. The publisher, unless,
unfortunately, it was published on the author's account, loses his
paper, and in a few months scarcely any body knows that such a book ever
saw the light.

It is in this way that the great multitude of school-books which are now
constantly issuing from the press take their origin. Far be it from me
to discourage the preparation of good school-books. This department of
our literature offers a fine field for the efforts of learning and
genius. What I contend against is the endless multiplicity of useless
works, hastily conceived and carelessly executed, and which serve no
purpose but to employ uselessly talents which, if properly applied,
might greatly benefit both the community and the possessor.

8. If, however, after mature deliberation, you conclude that you have
the plan of a school-book which you ought to try to mature and execute,
be slow and cautious about it. Remember that so great is now the
competition in this branch, nothing but superior excellence or very
extraordinary exertions will secure the favorable reception of a work.
Examine all that your predecessors have done before you. Obtain,
whatever may be the trouble and expense, all other text-books on the
subject, and examine them thoroughly. If you see that you can make a
very decided advance on all that has been done, and that the public will
probably submit to the inconvenience and expense of a change to secure
the result of your labors, go forward slowly and carefully in your work,
no matter how much investigation, how much time and labor it may
require. The more difficulty you may find in gaining the eminence, the
less likely will you be to be followed by successful competitors.

9. Consider, in forming your text-book, not merely the whole subject on
which you are to write, but also look extensively and thoroughly at the
institutions throughout the country, and consider carefully the
character of the teachers by whom you expect it to be used. Sometimes a
man publishes a text-book, and when it fails on trial, he says "it is
because they did not know how to use it. The book in itself was good.
The whole fault was in the awkwardness and ignorance of the teacher."
How absurd! As if, to make a good text-book, it was not as necessary to
adapt it to teachers as to scholars. A _good text-book, which the
teachers for whom it was intended did not know how to use!!_ In other
words, a good contrivance, but entirely unfit for the purpose for which
it was intended.

10. Lastly, in every new plan, consider carefully whether its success in
your hands, after you have tried it and found it successful, be owing to
its novelty and to your own special interest in it, or to its own innate
and intrinsic superiority. If the former, use it so long as it will
last, simply to give variety and interest to your plans. Recommend it in
conversation or in other ways to teachers with whom you are acquainted,
not as a wonderful discovery, which is going to change the whole science
of education, but as one method among others which may be introduced
from time to time to relieve the monotony of the teacher's labors.

In a word, do not go away from the established institutions of our
country, or deviate from the great objects which are at present, and
ought continually to be pursued by them, without great caution,
circumspection, and deliberate inquiry. But, within these limits,
exercise ingenuity and invention as much as you will. Pursue steadily
the great objects which demand the teacher's attention. They are simple
and few. Never lose sight of them, nor turn to the right or to the left
to follow any ignis fatuus which may arise to allure you away, but
exercise as much ingenuity and enterprise as you please in giving
variety and interest to the modes by which these objects are pursued.

If planning and scheming are confined within these limits, and conducted
on these principles, the teacher will save all the agitating perplexity
and care which will otherwise be his continual portion. He can go
forward peaceably and quietly, and while his own success is greatly
increased, he may be of essential service to the cause in which he is
engaged, by making known his various experiments and plans to others.
For this purpose, it seems to me highly desirable that every teacher
should KEEP A JOURNAL of all his plans. In these should be carefully
entered all his experiments; the new methods he adopts; the course he
takes in regard to difficulties which may arise, and any interesting
incidents which may occur which it would be useful for him to refer to
at some future time. These, or the most interesting of them, should be
made known to other teachers. This may be done in several ways:

(1.) By publishing them in periodicals devoted to education. Such
contributions, furnished by judicious men, would be among the most
valuable articles in such a work. They would be far more valuable than
any general speculations, however well conceived or expressed.

(2.) In newspapers intended for general circulation. There are very few
editors whose papers circulate in families who would not gladly receive
articles of this kind to fill a teacher's department in their columns.
If properly written, they would be read with interest and profit by
multitudes of parents, and would throw much light on family government
and instruction.

(3.) By reading them in teachers' meetings. If half a dozen teachers who
are associated in the same vicinity would meet once a fortnight, simply
to hear each other's journals, they would be amply repaid for their time
and labor. Teachers' meetings will be interesting and useful, when those
who come forward in them will give up the prevailing practice of
delivering orations, and come down at once to the scenes and to the
business of the school-room.

There is one topic connected with the subject of this chapter which
deserves a few paragraphs. I refer to the rights of the committee, or
the trustees, or patrons in the control of the school. The right to such
control, when claimed at all, is usually claimed in reference to the
teacher's new plans, which renders it proper to allude to the subject
here; and it ought not to be omitted, for a great many cases occur in
which teachers have difficulties with the trustees or committee of their
school. Sometimes these difficulties result at last in an open rupture;
at other times in only a slight and temporary misunderstanding, arising
from what the teacher calls an unwise and unwarrantable interference on
the part of the committee or the trustees in the arrangements of the
school. Difficulties of some sort very often arise. In fact, a right
understanding of this subject is, in most cases, absolutely essential to
the harmony and co-operation of the teacher and the representatives of
his patrons.

There are then, it must be recollected, three different parties
connected with every establishment for education: the parents of the
scholars, the teacher, and the pupils themselves. Sometimes, as, for
example, in a common private school, the parents are not organized, and
whatever influence they exert they must exert in their individual
capacity. At other times, as in a common district or town school, they
are by law organized, and the school committee chosen for this purpose
are their legal representatives. In other instances, a board of trustees
are constituted by the appointment of the founders of the institution,
or by the Legislature of a state, to whom is committed the oversight of
its concerns, and who are consequently the representatives of the
founders and patrons of the school.

There are differences between these various modes of organization which
I shall not now stop to examine, as it will be sufficiently correct for
my purpose to consider them all as only various ways of organizing the
_employers_ in the contract by which the teacher is employed. The
teacher is the agent; the patrons represented in these several ways are
the principals. When, therefore, in the following paragraphs I use the
word _employers_, I mean to be understood to speak of the committee, or
the trustees, or the visitors, or the parents themselves, as the case in
each particular institution may be; that is, the persons for whose
purpose and at whose expense the institution is maintained, or their
representatives.

Now there is a very reasonable and almost universally established rule,
which teachers are very frequently prone to forget, namely, _the
employed ought always to be responsible to the employers, and to be
under their direction._ So obviously reasonable is this rule, and, in
fact, so absolutely indispensable in the transaction of all the business
of life, that it would be idle to attempt to establish and illustrate it
here. It has, however, limitations, and it is applicable to a much
greater extent, in some departments of human labor than in others. It is
_applicable_ to the business of teaching, and though I confess that it
is somewhat less absolute and imperious here, still it is obligatory, I
believe, to a far greater extent than teachers have been generally
willing to admit.

A young lady, I will imagine, wishes to introduce the study of Botany
into her school. The parents or the committee object; they say that they
wish the children to confine their attention exclusively to the
elementary branches of education. "It will do them no good," says the
chairman of the committee, "to learn by heart some dozen or two of
learned names. We want them to read well, to write well, and to
calculate well, and not to waste their time in studying about pistils,
and stamens, and nonsense."

Now what is the duty of the teacher in such a case? Why, very plainly
her duty is the same as that of the governor of a state, where the
people, through their representatives, regularly chosen, negative a
proposal which he considers calculated to promote the public good. It is
his duty to submit to the public will; and, though he may properly do
all in his power to present the subject to his employers in such a light
as to lead them to regard it as he does, he must still, until they do so
regard it, bow to their authority; and every magistrate who takes an
enlarged and comprehensive view of his duties as the executive of a
republican community, will do this without any humiliating feelings of
submission to unauthorized interference with his plans. He will, on the
other hand, enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that he confines himself
to his proper sphere, and leave to others the full possession of rights
which properly pertain to them.

It is so with every case where the relation of employer and employed
subsists. You engage a carpenter to erect a house for you, and you
present your plan; instead of going to work and executing your orders
according to your wishes, he falls to criticising and condemning it; he
finds fault with this, and ridicules that, and tells you you ought to
make such and such an alteration in it. It is perfectly right for him to
give his opinion, in the tone and spirit of _recommendation or
suggestion_, with a distinct understanding that with his employer rests
the power and the right to decide. But how many teachers take
possession of their school-room as though it was an empire in which they
are supreme, who resist every interference of their employers as they
would an attack upon their personal freedom, and who feel that in regard
to every thing connected with school they have really no actual
responsibility.

In most cases, the employers, knowing how sensitive teachers very
frequently are on this point, acquiesce in it, and leave them to
themselves. Whenever, in any case, they think that the state of the
school requires their interference, they come cautiously and fearfully
to the teacher, as if they were encroaching upon his rights, instead of
advancing with the confidence and directness with which employers have
always a right to approach the employed; and the teacher, with the view
he has insensibly taken of the subject, being perhaps confirmed by the
tone and manner which his employers use, makes the conversation quite as
often an occasion of resentment and offense as of improvement. He is
silent, perhaps, but in his heart he accuses his committee or his
trustees of improper interference in _his_ concerns, as though it was no
part of _their_ business to look after work which is going forward for
their advantage, and for which they pay.

Perhaps some individuals who have had some collision with their trustees
or committee will ask me if I mean that a teacher ought to be entirely
and immediately under the supervision and control of the trustees, just
as a mechanic is when employed by another man. By no means. There are
various circumstances connected with the nature of this employment, such
as the impossibility of the employers fully understanding it in all its
details, and the character and the standing of the teacher himself,
which always will, in matter of fact, prevent this. The employers always
will, in a great many respects, place more confidence in the teacher and
in his views than they will in their own. But still, the ultimate power
is theirs. Even if they err, if they wish to have a course pursued
which is manifestly inexpedient and wrong, _they still have a right to
decide._ It is their work; it is going on at their instance and at their
expense, and the power of ultimate decision on all disputed questions
must, from the very nature of the case, rest with them. The teacher may,
it is true, have his option either to comply with their wishes or to
seek employment in another sphere; but while he remains in the employ of
any persons, whether in teaching or in any other service, he is bound to
yield to the wishes of his employers when they insist upon it, and to
submit good-humoredly to their direction when they shall claim their
undoubted right to direct.

This is to be done, it must be remembered, when they are wrong as well
as when they are right. The obligation of the teacher is not founded
upon _the superior wisdom_ of his employers in reference to the business
for which they have engaged him, for they are very probably his
inferiors in this respect, but _upon their right as employers_ to
determine _how their own work shall be done._ A gardener, we will
suppose, is engaged by a gentleman to lay out his grounds. The gardener
goes to work, and, after a few hours, the gentleman comes out to see how
he goes on and to give directions. He proposes something which the
gardener, who, to make the case stronger, we will suppose knows better
than the proprietor of the grounds, considers ridiculous and absurd;
nay, we will suppose _it is_ ridiculous and absurd. Now what can the
gardener do? There are obviously two courses. He can say to the
proprietor, after a vain attempt to convince him he is wrong, "Well,
sir, I will do just as you say. The grounds are yours: I have no
interest in it or responsibility, except to accomplish your wishes."
This would be right. Or he might say, "Sir, you have a right to direct
upon your own grounds, and I do not wish to interfere with your plans;
but I must ask you to obtain another gardener. I have a reputation at
stake, and this work, if I do it even at your direction, will be
considered as a specimen of my taste and of my planning, so that I must,
in justice to myself, decline remaining in your employment." This, too,
would be right, though probably, both in the business of gardening and
of teaching, the case ought to be a strong one to render it expedient.

But it would not be right for him, after his employer should have gone
away, to say to himself, with a feeling of resentment at the imaginary
_interference_, "I shall not follow any such directions; I understand my
own trade, and shall receive no instructions in it from him," and then,
disobeying all directions, go on and do the work contrary to the orders
of his employer, who alone has a right to decide.

And yet a great many teachers take a course as absurd and unjustifiable
as this would be. Whenever the parents, or the committee, or the
trustees express, however mildly and properly, their wishes in regard to
the manner in which they desire to have their own work performed, their
pride is at once aroused. They seem to feel it an indignity to act in
any other way than just in accordance with their own will and pleasure;
and they absolutely refuse to comply, resenting the interference as an
insult; or else, if they apparently yield, it is with mere cold
civility, and entirely without any honest desire to carry the wishes
thus expressed into actual effect.

Parents may, indeed, often misjudge. A good teacher will, however, soon
secure their confidence, and they may acquiesce in his opinion. But they
ought to be watchful, and the teacher ought to feel and acknowledge
their authority on all questions connected with the education of their
children. They have originally entire power in regard to the course
which is to be pursued with them. Providence has made the parents
responsible, and wholly responsible, for the manner in which their
children are prepared for the duties of this life, and it is interesting
to observe how very cautious the laws of society are about interfering
with the parent's wishes in regard to the education of the child. There
are many cases in which enlightened governments might make arrangements
which would be better than those made by the parents if they are left to
themselves. But they will not do it; they ought not to do it. God has
placed the responsibility in the hands of the father and mother, and
unless the manner in which it is exercised is calculated to endanger or
to injure the community, there can rightfully be no interference except
that of argument and persuasion.

It ought also to be considered that upon the parents will come the
consequences of the good or bad education of their children, and not
upon the teacher, and consequently it is right that they should direct.
The teacher remains, perhaps, a few months with his charge, and then
goes to other places, and perhaps hears of them no more. He has thus
very little at stake. The parent has every thing at stake; and it is
manifestly unjust to give one man the power of deciding, while he
escapes all the consequences of his mistakes, if he makes any, and to
take away all the _power_ from those upon whose heads all the suffering
which will follow an abuse of the power must descend.




CHAPTER VIII.

REPORTS OF CASES.

There is, perhaps, no way by which a writer can more effectually explain
his views on the subject of education than by presenting a great variety
of actual cases, whether real or imaginary, and describing particularly
the course of treatment which he would recommend in each. This method of
communicating knowledge is very extensively resorted to in the medical
profession, where writers detail particular cases, and report the
symptoms and the treatment for each succeeding day, so that the reader
may almost fancy himself actually a visitor at the sick-bed, and the
nature and effects of the various prescriptions become fixed in the mind
with almost as much distinctness and permanency as actual experience
would give.

This principle has been kept in view, the reader may perhaps think, too
closely in all the chapters of this volume, almost every point brought
up having been illustrated by anecdotes and narratives. I propose,
however, devoting one chapter now to presenting a number of
miscellaneous cases, without any attempt to arrange them. Sometimes the
case will be merely stated, the reader being left to draw the inference;
at others, such remarks will be added as the case suggests. All will,
however, be intended to answer some useful purpose, either to exhibit
good or bad management and its consequences, or to bring to view some
trait of human nature, as it exhibits itself in children, which it may
be desirable for the teacher to know. Let it be understood, however,
that these cases are not selected with reference to their being strange
or extraordinary. They are rather chosen because they are common; that
is, they, or cases similar, will be constantly occurring to the teacher,
and reading such a chapter will be the best substitute for experience
which the teacher can have. Some are descriptions of literary exercises
or plans which the reader can adopt in classes or with a whole school;
others are cases of discipline, good or bad management, which the
teacher can imitate or avoid. The stories are from various sources, and
are the results of the experience of several individuals.

1. HATS AND BONNETS.--The master of a district school was accidentally
looking out of the window one day, and he saw one of the boys throwing
stones at a hat, which was put up for that purpose upon the fence. He
said nothing about it at the time, but made a memorandum of the
occurrence, that he might bring it before the school at the proper time.
When the hour set apart for attending to the general business of the
school had arrived, and all were still, he said,

"I saw one of the boys throwing stones at a hat to-day: did he do right
or wrong?"

There were one or two faint murmurs which sounded like "_Wrong_" but the
boys generally made no answer.

"Perhaps it depends a little upon the question whose hat it was. Do you
think it does depend upon that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, suppose then it was not his own hat, and he was throwing stones
at it without the owner's consent, would it be plain in that case
whether he was doing right or wrong?"

"Yes, sir; wrong," was the universal reply.

"Suppose it was his own hat, would he have been right? Has a boy a right
to do what he pleases with his own hat?"

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir;" "No, sir," "No, sir," answered the boys,
confusedly.

"I do not know whose hat it was. If the boy who did it is willing to
rise and tell me, it will help us to decide this question."

The boy, knowing that a severe punishment was not in such a case to be
anticipated, and, in fact, apparently pleased with the idea of
exonerating himself from the blame of willfully injuring the property of
another, rose and said,

"I suppose it was I, sir, who did it, and it was my own hat."

"Well," said the master, "I am glad that you are willing to tell frankly
how it was; but let us look at this case. There are two senses in which
a hat may be said to belong to any person. It may belong to him because
he bought it and paid for it, or it may belong to him because it fits
him and he wears it. In other words, a person may have a hat as his
property, or he may have it only as a part of his dress. Now you see
that, according to the first of these senses, all the hats in this
school belong to your fathers. There is not, in fact, a single boy in
this school who has a hat of his own."

The boys laughed.

"Is not this the fact?"

"Yes, sir."

It certainly is so, though I suppose James did not consider it. Your
fathers bought your hats. They worked for them and paid for them. You
are only the wearers, and consequently every generous boy, and, in fact,
every honest boy, will be careful of the property which is intrusted to
him, but which, strictly speaking, is not his own.


2. MISTAKES.--A wide difference must always be made between mistakes
arising from carelessness, and those resulting from circumstances beyond
control, such as want of sufficient data, and the like. The former are
always censurable; the latter never; for they may be the result of
correct reasoning from insufficient data, and it is the reasoning only
for which the child is responsible.

"What do you suppose a prophet is?" said a teacher to a class of little
boys. The word occurred in their reading lesson.

The scholars all hesitated; at last one ventured to reply:

"If a man should sell a yoke of oxen, and get more for them than they
are worth, he would be a prophet."

"Yes," said the instructor, "that is right; that is one kind of
_profit_, but this is another and a little different," and he proceeded
to explain the word, and the difference of the spelling.

This child had, without doubt, heard of some transaction of the kind
which he described, and had observed that the word _profit_ was applied
to it. Now the care which he had exercised in attending to it at the
time, and remembering it when the same word (for the difference in the
spelling he of course knew nothing about) occurred again, was really
commendable. The fact, which is a mere accident, that we affix very
different significations to the same sound, was unknown to him. The
fault, if any where, was in the language and not in him, for he reasoned
correctly from the data he possessed, and he deserved credit for it.

The teacher should always discriminate carefully between errors of this
kind, and those that result from culpable carelessness.

3. TARDINESS.--"My duty to this school," said a teacher to his pupils,
"demands, as I suppose you all admit, that I should require you all to
be here punctually at the time appointed for the commencement of the
school. I have done nothing on this subject yet, for I wished to see
whether you would not come early on principle. I wish now, however, to
inquire in regard to this subject, and to ascertain how many have been
tardy, and to consider what must be done hereafter."

He made the inquiries, and ascertained pretty nearly how many had been
tardy, and how often within a week.

The number was found to be so great that the scholars admitted that
something ought to be done.

"What shall I do?" asked he. "Can any one propose a plan which will
remedy the difficulty?"

There was no answer.

"The easiest and pleasantest way to secure punctuality is for the
scholars to come early of their own accord, upon principle. It is
evident, from the reports, that many of you do so, but some do not. Now
there is no other plan which will not be attended with very serious
difficulty, but I am willing to adopt the one which will be most
agreeable to yourselves, if it will be likely to accomplish the object.
Has any one any plan to propose?"

There was a pause.

"It would evidently," continued the teacher, "be the easiest for me to
leave this subject, and do nothing about it. It is of no personal
consequence to me whether you come early or not, but as long as I hold
this office I must be faithful, and I have no doubt the school
committee, if they knew how many of you were tardy, would think I ought
to do something to diminish the evil.

"The best plan that I can think of is that all who are tardy should lose
their recess."

The boys looked rather anxiously at one another, but continued silent.

"There is a great objection to this plan from the fact that a boy is
sometimes necessarily absent, and by this rule he will lose his recess
with the rest, so that the innocent will be punished with the guilty."

"I should think, sir," said William, "that those who are _necessarily_
tardy might be excused."

"Yes, I should be very glad to excuse them, if I could find out who they
are."

The boys seemed to be surprised at this remark, as if they thought it
would not be a difficult matter to decide.

"How can I tell?" asked the master.

"You can hear their excuses, and then decide."

"Yes," said the teacher: "but here are fifteen or twenty boys tardy this
morning; now how long would it take me to hear their excuses, and
understand each case thoroughly, so that I could really tell whether
they were tardy from good reasons or not?"

No answer.

"Should you not think it would take a minute apiece?"

"Yes, sir."

"It would, undoubtedly, and even then I could not in many cases tell. It
would take fifteen minutes, at least. I can not do this in school hours,
for I have not time, and if I do it in recess it will consume the whole
of every recess. Now I need the _rest_ of a recess as well as you, and
it does not seem to me to be just that I should lose the whole of mine
every day, and spend it in a most unpleasant business, when I take pains
myself to come punctually every morning. Would it be just?"

"No, sir."

"I think it would be less unjust to deprive all those of their recess
who are tardy; for then the loss of a recess by a boy who had not been
to blame would not be very common, and the evil would be divided among
the whole; but in the plan of my hearing the excuses it would all come
upon one."

After a short pause one of the boys said that they might be required to
bring written excuses.

"Yes, that is another plan," said the teacher; "but there are objections
to it. Can any of you think what they are? I suppose you have all been,
either at this school or at some other, required to bring written
excuses, so that you have seen the plan tried. Now have you never
noticed any objection to it?"

One boy said that it gave the parents a great deal of trouble at home.

"Yes," said the teacher, "this is a great objection; it is often very
inconvenient to write. But that is not the greatest difficulty; can any
of you think of any other?"

There was a pause.

"Do you think that these written excuses are, after all, a fair test of
the real reasons for tardiness? I understand that sometimes boys will
tease their fathers or mothers for an excuse when they do not deserve
it, 'Yes, sir,' and sometimes they will loiter about when sent of an
errand before school, knowing that they can get a written excuse, when
they might easily have been punctual."

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," said the boys.

"Well, now, if we adopt this plan, some unprincipled boy would always
contrive to have an excuse, whether necessarily tardy or not; and,
besides, each parent would have a different principle and a different
opinion as to what was a reasonable excuse, so that there would be no
uniformity, and, consequently, no justice in the operation of the
system."

The boys admitted the truth of this, and, as no other plan was
presented, the rule was adopted of requiring all those who were tardy to
remain in their seats during the recess, whether they were necessarily
tardy or not. The plan very soon diminished the number of loiterers.

4. HELEN'S LESSON.--The possibility of being inflexibly firm in
measures, and, at the same time, gentle and mild in manners and
language, is happily illustrated in the following description, which is
based on an incident narrated by Mrs. Sherwood:

"Mrs. M. had observed, even during the few days that Helen had been
under her care, that she was totally unaccustomed to habits of diligence
and application. After making all due allowance for long-indulged habits
of indolence and inattention, she one morning assigned an easy lesson to
her pupil, informing her at the same time that she should hear it
immediately before dinner. Helen made no objections to the plan, but she
silently resolved not to perform the required task. Being in some
measure a stranger, she thought her aunt would not insist upon perfect
obedience, and besides, in her estimation, she was too old to be treated
like a child.

"During the whole morning Helen exerted herself to be mild and obliging;
her conduct toward her aunt was uncommonly affectionate. By these and
various other artifices she endeavored to gain her first victory.
Meanwhile Mrs. M. quietly pursued her various avocations, without
apparently noticing Helen's conduct. At length dinner-hour arrived; the
lesson was called for, but Helen was unprepared. Mrs. M. told Helen she
was sorry that she had not learned the lesson, and concluded by saying
that she hoped she would be prepared before tea-time.

"Helen, finding she was not to come to the table, began to be a little
alarmed. She was acquainted in some measure with the character of her
aunt, still she hoped to be allowed to partake of the dessert, as she
had been accustomed to on similar occasions at home, and soon regained
her wonted composure. But the dinner-cloth was removed, and there sat
Helen, suffering not a little from hunger; still she would not complain;
she meant to convince her aunt that she was not moved by trifles.

"A walk had been proposed for the afternoon, and as the hour drew near,
Helen made preparations to accompany the party. Mrs. M. reminded her of
her lesson, but she just noticed the remark by a toss of the head, and
was soon in the green fields, apparently the gayest of the gay. After
her return from the excursion she complained of a head-ache, which in
fact she had. She threw herself languidly on the sofa, sighed deeply,
and took up her History.

"Tea was now on the table, and most tempting looked the white loaf. Mrs.
M. again heard the pupil recite, but was sorry to find the lesson still
imperfectly prepared. She left her, saying she thought half an hour's
additional study would conquer all the difficulties she found in the
lesson.

"During all this time Mrs. M. appeared so perfectly calm, composed, and
even kind, and so regardless of sighs and doleful exclamations, that
Helen entirely lost her equanimity, and let her tears flow freely and
abundantly. Her mother was always moved by her tears, and would not her
aunt relent? No. Mrs. M. quietly performed the duties of the table, and
ordered the tea-equipage to be removed. This latter movement brought
Helen to reflection. It is useless to resist, thought she; indeed, why
should I wish to? Nothing too much has been required of me. How
ridiculous I have made myself appear in the eyes of my aunt, and even of
the domestics!

"In less than an hour she had the satisfaction of reciting her lesson
perfectly; her aunt made no comments on the occasion, but assigned her
the next lesson, and went on sewing. Helen did not expect this; she had
anticipated a refreshing cup of tea after the long siege. She had
expected that even something nicer than usual would be necessary to
compensate her for her past sufferings. At length, worn out by
long-continued watching and fasting, she went to the closet, provided
herself with a cracker, and retired to bed to muse deliberately on the
strange character of her aunt.

"Teachers not unfrequently threaten their pupils with some proper
punishment, but, when obliged to put the threat into execution, contrive
in some indirect way to abate its rigor, and thus destroy all its
effects. For example, a mother was in the habit, when her little boy ran
beyond his prescribed play-ground, of putting him into solitary
confinement. On such occasions, she was very careful to have some
amusing book or diverting plaything in a conspicuous part of the room,
and not unfrequently a piece of gingerbread was given to solace the
runaway. The mother thought it very strange her little boy should so
often transgress, when he knew what to expect from such a course of
conduct. The boy was wiser than the mother; he knew perfectly well how
to manage the business. He could play with the boys beyond the garden
gate, and if detected, to be sure he was obliged to spend a quiet hour
in the pleasant parlor. But this was not intolerable as long as he could
expect a paper of sugar-plums, a cake, or at least something amply to
compensate him for the loss of a game at marbles."

5. COMPLAINTS or LONG LESSONS.--A college officer assigned lessons which
the idle and ignorant members of the class thought too long. They
murmured for a time, and at last openly complained. The other members of
the class could say nothing in behalf of the professor, awed by the
greatest of all fears to a collegian, the fear of being called a
"_fisher_" or a "_blueskin_" The professor paid no attention to the
petitions and complaints which were poured in upon him, and which,
though originated by the idle, all were compelled to vote for. He
coldly, and with uncompromising dignity, went on; the excitement in the
class increased, and what is called a college rebellion, with all its
disastrous consequences to the infatuated rebels, ensued.

Another professor had the dexterity to manage the case in a different
way. After hearing that there was dissatisfaction, he brought up the
subject as follows:

"I understand, gentlemen, that you consider your lessons too long.
Perhaps I have overrated the abilities of the class, but I have not
intended to assign you more than you can accomplish. I feel no other
interest in the subject than the pride and pleasure it would give me to
have my class stand high, in respect to the amount of ground it has gone
over, when you come to examination. I propose, therefore, that you
appoint a committee, in whose abilities and judgment you can confide,
and let them examine this subject and report. They might ascertain how
much other classes have done, and how much is expedient for this class
to attempt; and then, by estimating the number of recitations assigned
to this study, they can easily determine what should be the length of
the lessons."

The plan was adopted, and the report put an end to the difficulty.

6. ENGLISH COMPOSITION.--The great prevailing fault of writers in this
country is an affectation of eloquence. It is almost universally the
fashion to aim, not at striking thoughts, simply and clearly expressed,
but at splendid language, glowing imagery, and magnificent periods. It
arises, perhaps, from the fact that public speaking is the almost
universal object of ambition, and, consequently, both at school and at
college, nothing is thought of but oratory. Vain attempts at oratory
result, in nine cases out of ten, in grandiloquence and empty
verbiage--common thoughts expressed in pompous periods.

The teacher should guard against this, and assign to children such
subjects as are within the field of childish observation. A little skill
on his part will soon determine the question which kind of writing shall
prevail in his school. The following specimens, both written with some
skill, will illustrate the two kinds of writing alluded to. Both were
written by pupils of the same age, twelve; one a boy, the other a girl.
The subjects were assigned by the teacher. I need not say that the
following was the writer's first attempt at composition, and that it is
printed without alteration.

THE PAINS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE.

The joyful sailor embarks on board of his ship, the sails are spread to
catch the playful gale, swift as an arrow he cuts the rolling wave. A
few days thus sporting on the briny wave, when suddenly the sky is
overspread with clouds, the rain descends in torrents, the sails are
lowered, the gale begins, the vessel is carried with great velocity, and
the shrouds, unable to support the tottering mast, gives way to the
furious tempest; the vessel is drove among the rocks, is sprung aleak;
the sailor works at the pumps till, faint and weary, is heard from
below, six feet of water in the hold; the boats are got ready, but,
before they are into them, the vessel is dashed against a reef of rocks;
some, in despair, throw themselves into the sea; others get on the rocks
without any clothes or provisions, and linger a few days, perhaps weeks
or months, living on shell fish, or perhaps taken up by some ship;
others get on pieces of the wreck, and perhaps be cast on some foreign
country, where perhaps he may be taken by the natives, and sold into
slavery where he never more returns.

In regard to the following specimen, it should be stated that when the
subject was assigned, the pupil was directed to see how precisely she
could imitate the language and conversation which two little children
really lost in the woods would use. While writing, therefore, her mind
was in pursuit of the natural and the simple, not of the eloquent.

TWO CHILDREN LOST IN THE WOODS.

_Emily_. Look here! see how many berries I've got. I don't believe
you've got so many.

_Charles_. Yes, I'm sure I have. My basket's almost full; and if we
hurry, we shall get ever so many before we go home. So pick away as fast
as you can, Emily.

_Emily_. There, mine is full. Now we'll go and find some flowers for
mother. You know somebody told us there were some red ones close to that
rock.

_Charles_. Well, so we will. We'll leave our baskets here, and come back
and get them.

_Emily_. But if we can't find our way back, what shall we do?

_Charles_. Poh! I can find the way back. I only want a quarter to seven
years old, and I sha'n't lose myself, I know.

_Emily_. Well, we've got flowers enough, and now I'm tired and want to
go home.

_Charles. I_ don't; but, if you are tired, we'll go and find our
baskets.

_Emily_. Where do you think they are? We've been looking a great while
for them. I know we are lost, for when we went after the flowers we
only turned once, and coming back we have turned three times.

_Charles_. Have we? Well, never mind, I guess we shall find them.

_Emily_. I'm afraid we sha'n't. Do let's run.

_Charles_. Well, so do. Oh, Emily! here's a brook, and I am sure we
didn't pass any brook going.

_Emily_. Oh dear! we must be lost. Hark! Charles, didn't you hear that
dreadful noise just now? Wasn't it a bear?

_Charles_. Poh! I should love to see a bear here. I guess, if he should
come near me, I would give him one good slap that would make him feel
pretty bad. I could kill him at the first hit.

_Emily_. I should like to see you taking hold of a bear. Why, didn't you
know bears were stronger than men? But only see how dark it grows; we
sha'n't see ma to-night, I'm afraid.

_Charles_. So am I: do let's run some more.

_Emily_. Oh, Charles, do you believe we shall ever find the way out of
this dreadful long wood?

_Charles_. Let's scream, and see if somebody won't come.

_Emily_. Well (screaming), ma! ma!

_Charles_ (screaming also). Pa! pa!

_Emily_. Oh dear! there's the sun setting. It will be dreadfully dark
by-and-by, won't it?

We have given enough for a specimen. The composition, though faulty in
many respects, illustrates the point we had in view.

7. Insincere Confession.--An assistant in a school informed the
principal that she had some difficulty in preserving order in a certain
class composed of small children. The principal accordingly went into
the class, and something like the following dialogue ensued:

"Your teacher informs me," said the principal, "that there is not
perfect order in the class. Now if you are satisfied that there has not
been order, and wish to help me discover and correct the fault, we can
do it very easily. If, on the other hand, you do not wish to co-operate
with me, it will be a little more difficult for me to correct it, and I
must take a different course. Now I wish to know, at the outset, whether
you do or do not wish to help me?"

A faint "Yes, sir," was murmured through the class.

"I do not wish you to assist me unless you really and honestly desire it
yourselves; and if you undertake to do it, you must do it honestly. The
first thing which will be necessary will be an open and thorough
exposure of all which has been wrong, and this, you know, will be
unpleasant. But I will put the question to vote by asking how many are
willing that I should know, entirely and fully, all that they have done
in this class that has been wrong?"

Very nearly all the hands were raised at once, promptly, and the others
were gradually brought up, though with more or less of hesitation.

"Are you willing not only to tell me yourselves what you have done, but
also, in case any one has forgotten something which she has done, that
others should tell me of it?"

The hands were all raised.

After obtaining thus from the class a distinct and universal expression
of willingness that all the facts should be made known, the principal
called upon all those who had any thing to state to raise their hands,
and those who raised them had opportunity to say what they wished. A
great number of very trifling incidents were mentioned, such as could
not have produced any difficulty in the class, and, consequently, could
not have been the real instances of disorder alluded to. Or at least it
was evident, if they were, that in the statement they must have been so
palliated and softened that a really honest confession had not been
made. This result might, in such a case, have been expected. Such is
human nature, that in nine cases out of ten, unless such a result had
been particularly guarded against, it would have inevitably followed.

Not only will such a result follow in individual cases like this, but,
unless the teacher watches and guards against it, it will grow into a
habit. I mean, boys will get a sort of an idea that it is a fine thing
to confess their faults, and by a show of humility and frankness will
deceive their teacher, and perhaps themselves, by a sort of
acknowledgment, which in fact exposes nothing of the guilt which the
transgressor professes to expose. A great many cases occur where
teachers are pleased with the confession of faults, and scholars
perceive it, and the latter get into the habit of coming to the teacher
when they have done something which they think may get them into
difficulty, and make a sort of half confession, which, by bringing
forward every palliating circumstance, and suppressing every thing of
different character, keeps entirely out of view all the real guilt of
the transgression. The criminal is praised by the teacher for the
frankness and honesty of the confession, and his fault is freely
forgiven. He goes away, therefore, well satisfied with himself, when, in
fact, he has been only submitting to a little mortification,
voluntarily, to avoid the danger of a greater; much in the same spirit
with that which leads a man to receive the small-pox by inoculation, to
avoid the danger of taking it in the natural way.

The teacher who accustoms his pupils to confess their faults voluntarily
ought to guard carefully against this danger. When such a case as the
one just described occurs, it will afford a favorable opportunity of
showing distinctly to pupils the difference between an honest and a
hypocritical confession. In this instance the teacher proceeded thus:

"Now there is one more question which I wish you all to answer by your
votes honestly. It is this. Do you think that the real disorder which
has been in this class--that is, the real cases which you referred to
when you stated to me that you thought that the class was not in good
order--have been now really exposed, so that I honestly and fully
understand the case? How many suppose so?"

Not a single hand was raised.

"How many of you think, and are willing to avow your opinion, that I
have _not_ been fully informed of the case?"

A large proportion held up their hands.

"Now it seems the class pretended to be willing that I should know all
the affair. You pretended to be willing to tell me the whole, but when I
call upon you for the information, instead of telling me honestly, you
attempt to amuse me by little trifles, which in reality made no
disturbance, and you omit the things which you know were the real
objects of my inquiries. Am I right in my supposition?"

They were silent. After a moment's pause, one perhaps raised her hand,
and began now to confess something which she had before concealed.

The teacher, however, interrupted her by saying,

"I do not wish to have the confession made now. I gave you all time to
do that, and now I should rather not hear any more about the disorder. I
gave an opportunity to have it acknowledged, but it was not honestly
improved, and now I should rather not hear. I shall probably never know.

"I wished to see whether this class would be honest--really honest, or
whether they would have the insincerity to pretend to be confessing when
they were not doing so honestly, so as to get the credit of being frank
and sincere, when in reality they are not so. Now am I not compelled to
conclude that this latter is the case?"

Such an example will make a deep and lasting impression. It will show
that the teacher is upon his guard; and there are very few so hardened
in deception that they would not wish that they had been really sincere
rather than rest under such an imputation.

8. Court.--A pupil, quite young (says a teacher), came to me one day
with a complaint that one of her companions had got her seat. There had
been some changes in the seats by my permission, and probably, from some
inconsistency in the promises which I had made, there were two claimants
for the same desk. The complainant came to me, and appealed to my
recollection of the circumstance.

"I do not recollect any thing about it," said I.

"Why, Mr. B.!" replied she, with astonishment.

"No," said I; "you forget that I have, every day, arrangements, almost
without number, of such a kind to make, and as soon as I have made one I
immediately forget all about it."

"Why, don't you remember that you got me a new baize?"

"No; I ordered a dozen new baizes at that time, but I do not remember
who they were for."

There was a pause; the disappointed complainant seemed not to know what
to do.

"I will tell you what to do. Bring the case into court, and I will try
it regularly."

"Why, Mr. B., I do not like to do any thing like that about it; besides,
I do not know how to write an indictment."

"Oh," I answered, "the scholars will like to have a good trial, and this
will make a new sort of case. All our cases thus far have been for
_offenses_--that is what they call criminal cases--and this will be only
an examination of the conflicting claims of two individuals to the same
property, and it will excite a good deal of interest. I think you had
better bring it into court."

She went slowly and thoughtfully to her seat, and presently returned
with an indictment.

"Mr. B., is this right?"

It was as follows:

I accuse Miss A.B. of coming to take away my seat--the one Mr. B. gave
me.

  Witnesses, { C.D.
             { E.T.

"Why--yes--that will do; and yet it is not exactly right. You see this
is what they call a _civil_ case."

"I don't think it is very _civil_."

"No, I don't mean it was civil to take your seat, but this is not a case
where a person is prosecuted for having done any thing wrong."

The plaintiff looked a little perplexed, as if she could not understand
how it could be otherwise than wrong for a girl to usurp her seat.

"I mean, you do not bring it into court as a case of wrong. You do not
want her to be punished, do you?"

"No, I only want her to give me up my seat; I don't want her to be
punished."

"Well, then, you see that, although she may have done wrong to take your
seat, it is not in that point of view that you bring it into court. It
is a question about the right of property, and the lawyers call such
cases _civil_ cases, to distinguish them from cases where persons are
tried for the purpose of being punished for doing wrong. These last are
called criminal cases."

The aggrieved party still looked perplexed. "Well, Mr. B.," she
continued, "what shall I do? How shall I write it? I can not say any
thing about _civil_ in it, can I?"

A form was given her which would be proper for the purpose, and the case
was brought forward, and the evidence on both sides examined. The
irritation of the quarrel was soon dissipated in the amusement of a
semi-serious trial, and both parties good-humoredly acquiesced in the
decision.

9. TEACHERS' PERSONAL CHARACTER.--Much has been said within a few years,
by writers on the subject of education in this country, on the
desirableness of raising the business of teaching to the rank of a
learned profession. There is but one way of doing this, and that is
raising the personal characters and attainments of the teachers
themselves. Whether an employment is elevated or otherwise in public
estimation, depends altogether on the associations, connected with it in
the public mind, and these depend altogether on the characters of the
individuals who are engaged in it. Franklin, by the simple fact that he
was a printer himself, has done more toward giving dignity and
respectability to the employment of printing, than a hundred orations
on the intrinsic excellence of the art. In fact, all mechanical
employments have, within a few years, risen in rank in this country, not
through the influence of efforts to impress the community directly with
a sense of their importance, but simply because mechanics themselves
have risen in intellectual and moral character. In the same manner, the
employment of the teacher will be raised most effectually in the
estimation of the public, not by the individual who writes the most
eloquent oration on the intrinsic dignity of the art, but by the one who
goes forward most successfully in the exercise of it, and who, by his
general attainments and public character, stands out most fully to the
view of the public as a well-informed, liberal-minded, and useful man.

If this is so--and it can not well be denied--it furnishes to every
teacher a strong motive to exertion for the improvement of his own
personal character. But there is a stronger motive still in the results
which flow directly to himself from such efforts. No man ought to engage
in any business which, as mere business, will engross all his time and
attention. The Creator has bestowed upon every one a mind, upon the
cultivation of which our rank among intelligent beings, our happiness,
our moral and intellectual power, every thing valuable to us, depend;
and after all the cultivation which we can bestow, in this life, upon
this mysterious principle, it will still be in embryo. The progress
which it is capable of making is entirely indefinite. If by ten years of
cultivation we can secure a certain degree of knowledge and power, by
ten more we can double, or more than double it, and every succeeding
year of effort is attended with equal success. There is no point of
attainment where we must stop, or beyond which effort will bring in a
less valuable return.

Look at that teacher, and consider for a moment his condition. He began
to teach when he was twenty years of age, and now he is forty. Between
the ages of fifteen and twenty he made a vigorous effort to acquire
such an education as would fit him for these duties. He succeeded, and
by these efforts he raised himself from being a mere laborer, receiving
for his daily toil a mere daily subsistence, to the respectability and
the comforts of an intellectual pursuit. But this change once produced,
he stops short in his progress. Once seated in his desk, he is
satisfied, and for twenty years he has been going through the same
routine, without any effort to advance or to improve. He does not
reflect that the same efforts, which so essentially altered his
condition and prospects at twenty, would have carried him forward to
higher and higher sources of influence and enjoyment as long as he
should continue them. His efforts ceased when he obtained a situation as
teacher at fifty dollars a month, and, though twenty years have glided
away, he is now exactly what he was then.

There is probably no employment whatever which affords so favorable an
opportunity for personal improvement--for steady intellectual and moral
progress, as that of teaching. There are two reasons for this:

First, there is time for it. With an ordinary degree of health and
strength, the mind can be vigorously employed at least ten hours a day.
As much as this is required of students in many literary institutions.
In fact, ten hours to study, seven to sleep, and seven to food,
exercise, and recreation, is perhaps as good an arrangement as can be
made; at any rate, very few persons will suppose that such a plan allows
too little under the latter head. Now six hours is as much as is
expected of a teacher under ordinary circumstances, and it is as much as
ought ever to be bestowed; for, though he may labor four hours out of
school in some new field, his health and spirits will soon sink under
the burden, if, after his weary labors during the day in school, he
gives up his evenings to the same perplexities and cares. And it is not
necessary. No one who knows any thing of the nature of the human mind,
and who will reflect a moment on the subject, can doubt that a man can
make a better school by expending six hours labor upon it with alacrity
and ardor, than he can by driving himself on to ten. Every teacher,
therefore, who is commencing his work, should begin with the firm
determination of devoting only six hours daily to the pursuit. Make as
good a school, and accomplish as much for it as you can in six hours,
and let the rest go. When you come from your school-room at night, leave
all your perplexities and cares behind you. No matter what unfinished
business or unsettled difficulties remain, dismiss them till another sun
shall rise, and the hour of duty for another day shall come. Carry no
school-work home with you, and do not even talk of your school-work at
home. You will then get refreshment and rest. Your mind, during the
evening, will be in a different world from that in which you have moved
during the day. At first this will be difficult. It will be hard for
you, unless your mind is uncommonly well disciplined, to dismiss all
your cares; and you will think, each evening, that some peculiar
emergency demands your attention _just at that time,_ and that as soon
as you have passed the crisis you will confine yourself to what you
admit are generally reasonable limits; but if you once allow school,
with its perplexities and cares, to get possession of the rest of the
day, it will keep possession. It will intrude itself into all your
waking thoughts, and trouble you in your dreams. You will lose all
command of your powers, and, besides cutting off from yourself all hope
of general intellectual progress, you will, in fact, destroy your
success as a teacher. Exhaustion, weariness, and anxiety will be your
continual portion, and in such a state no business can be successfully
prosecuted.

There need be no fear that employers will be dissatisfied if the teacher
acts upon this principle. If he is faithful, and enters with all his
heart into the discharge of his duties during six hours, there will be
something in the ardor, and alacrity, and spirit with which his duties
will be performed which parents and scholars will both be very glad to
receive in exchange for the languid, and dull, and heartless toil in
which the other method must sooner or later result.

       *       *       *       *       *

If the teacher, then, will confine himself to such a portion of time as
is, in fact, all he can advantageously employ, there will be much left
which can be devoted to his own private employment--more than is usual
in the other avocations of life. In most of these other avocations there
is not the same necessity for limiting the hours which a man may devote
to his business. A merchant, for example, may be employed nearly all the
day at his counting-room, and so may a mechanic. A physician may spend
all his waking hours in visiting patients, and feel little more than
healthy fatigue. The reason is, that in all these employments, and, in
fact, in most of the employments of life, there is so much to diversify,
so many little incidents constantly occurring to animate and relieve,
and so much bodily exercise, which alternates with and suspends the
fatigues of the mind, that the labors may be much longer continued, and
with less cessation, and yet the health not suffer. But the teacher,
while engaged in his work, has his mind continually on the stretch.
There is little relief, little respite, and he is almost entirely
deprived of bodily exercise. He must, consequently, limit his hours of
attending to his business, or his health will soon sink under labors
which Providence never intended the human mind to bear.

There is another circumstance which facilitates the progress of the
teacher. It is a fact that all this general progress has a direct and
immediate bearing upon his pursuits. A lawyer may read in an evening an
interesting book of travels, and find nothing to help him with his case,
the next day, in court; but almost every fact which the teacher thus
learns will come _at once into use_ in some of his recitations at
school. We do not mean to imply by this that the members of the legal
profession have not need of a great variety and extent of knowledge;
they doubtless have. It is simply in the _directness_ and _certainty_
with which the teacher's knowledge may be applied to his purpose that
the business of teaching has the advantage over every other pursuit.

This fact, now, has a very important influence in encouraging and
leading forward the teacher to make constant intellectual progress, for
every step brings at once a direct reward.

10. THE CHESTNUT BURR.--_A story for school-boys._--One fine Saturday
afternoon, in the fall of the year, the master was taking a walk in the
woods, and he came to a place where a number of boys were gathering
chestnuts.

One of the boys was sitting upon a bank trying to open some chestnut
burrs which he had knocked off from the tree. The burrs were green, and
he was attempting to open them by pounding them with a stone.

[Illustration]

He was a very impatient boy, and was scolding in a loud, angry, tone
against the burrs. He did not see, he said, what in the world chestnuts
were made to grow so for. They ought to grow right out in the open air,
like apples, and not have such vile porcupine skins on them, just to
plague the boys. So saying, he struck with all his might a fine large
burr, crushed it to pieces, and then jumped up, using at the same time
profane and wicked words. As soon as he turned round he saw the master
standing very near him. He felt very much ashamed and afraid, and hung
down his head.

"Roger," said the master (for this boy's name was Roger), "can you get
me a chestnut burr?"

Roger looked up for a moment to see whether the master was in earnest,
and then began to look around for a burr.

A boy who was standing near the tree, with a red cap full of burrs in
his hand, held out one of them. Roger took the burr and handed it to the
master, who quietly put it into his pocket, and walked away without
saying a word.

As soon as he was gone, the boy with the red cap said to Roger, "I
expected that the master would have given you a good scolding for
talking so."

"The master never scolds," said another boy, who was sitting on a log
pretty near, with a green satchel in his hand, "but you see if he does
not remember it." Roger looked as if he did not know what to think about
it.

"I wish," said he, "I knew what he is going to do with that burr."

That afternoon, when the lessons had been all recited, and it was about
time to dismiss the school, the boys put away their books, and the
master read a few verses in the Bible, and then offered a prayer, in
which he asked God to forgive all the sins which any of them had
committed that day, and to take care of them during the night. After
this he asked the boys all to sit down. He then took his handkerchief
out of his pocket and laid it on the desk, and afterward he put his
hand into his pocket again, and took out the chestnut burr, and all the
boys looked at it.

"Boys," said he, "do you know what this is?"

One of the boys in the back seat said, in a half whisper, "It is nothing
but a chestnut burr."

"Lucy," said the master to a bright-eyed little girl near him, "what is
this?"

"It is a chestnut burr, sir," said she.

"Do you know what it is for?"

"I suppose there are chestnuts in it."

"But what is this rough, prickly covering for?"

Lucy did not know.

"Does any body here know?" said the master.

One of the boys said that he supposed it was to hold the chestnuts
together, and keep them up on the tree.

"But I heard a boy say," replied the master, "that they ought not to be
made to grow so. The nut itself, he thought, ought to hang alone on the
branches, without any prickly covering, just as apples do."

"But the nuts themselves have no stems to be fastened by," answered the
same boy.

"That is true; but I suppose this boy thought that God could have made
them grow with stems, and that this would have been better than to have
them in burrs."

After a little pause the master said that he would explain TO them what
the chestnut burr was for, and wished them all to listen attentively.

"How much of the chestnut is good to eat, William?" asked he, looking at
a boy before him.

"Only the meat."

"How long does it take the meat to grow?"

"All summer, I suppose, it is growing."

"Yes; it begins early in the summer, and gradually swells and grows
until it has become of full size, and is ripe, in the fall. Now suppose
there was a tree out here near the school-house, and the chestnut meats
should grow upon it without any shell or covering; suppose, too, that
they should taste like good ripe chestnuts at first, when they were very
small. Do you think they would be safe?"

William said "No; the boys would pick and eat them before they had time
to grow."

"Well, what harm would there be in that? Would it not be as well to have
the chestnuts early in the summer as to have them in the fall?"

William hesitated. Another boy who sat next to him said,

"There would not be so much meat in the chestnuts if they were eaten
before they had time to grow."

"Right," said the master; "but would not the boys know this, and so all
agree to let the little chestnuts stay, and not eat them while they were
small?"

William said he thought they would not. If the chestnuts were good, he
was afraid they would pick them off and eat them if they were small.

All the rest of the boys in the school thought so too.

"Here, then," said the master, "is one reason for having prickles around
the chestnuts when they are small. But then it is not necessary to have
all chestnuts guarded from boys in this way; a great many of the trees
are in the woods, which the boys do not see; what good do the burrs do
in these trees?"

The boys hesitated. Presently the boy who had the green satchel under
the tree with Roger, who was sitting in one corner of the room, said,

"I should think they would keep the squirrels from eating them.

"And besides," continued he, after thinking a moment, "I should suppose,
if the meat of the chestnut had no covering, the rain would wet it and
make it rot, or the sun might dry and wither it."

"Yes," said the master, "these are very good reasons why the nut should
be carefully guarded. First the meats are packed away in a hard brown
shell, which the water can not get through; this keeps it dry, and away
from dust and other things which might injure it. Then several nuts thus
protected grow closely together inside this green, prickly covering,
which spreads over them and guards them from the larger animals and the
boys. Where the chestnut gets its full growth and is ripe, this
covering, you know, splits open, and the nuts drop out, and then any
body can get them and eat them."

The boys were then all satisfied that it was better that chestnuts
should grow in burrs.

"But why," asked one of the boys, "do not apples grow so?"

"Can any body answer that question?" asked the master.

The boy with the green satchel said that apples had a smooth, tight
skin, which kept out the wet, but he did not see how they were guarded
from animals.

The master said it was by their taste. "They are hard and sour before
they are full grown, and so the taste is not pleasant, and nobody wishes
to eat them, except sometimes a few foolish boys, and these are punished
by being made sick. When the apples are full grown, they change from
sour to sweet, and become mellow--then they can be eaten. Can you tell
me of any other fruits which are preserved in this way?"

One boy answered, "Strawberries and blackberries;" and another said,
"Peaches and pears."

Another boy asked why the peach-stone was not outside the peach, so as
to keep it from being eaten; but the master said that he would explain
this another time. Then he dismissed the scholars, after asking Roger to
wait until the rest had gone, as he wished to see him alone.

Several of the articles which follow were communicated for this work by
different teachers, at the request of the author.

11. THE SERIES OF WRITING LESSONS.--Very many pupils soon become weary
of the dull and monotonous business of writing, unless some plans are
devised to give interest and variety to the exercise; and, on this
account, this branch of education, in which improvement may be most
rapid, is often the last and most tedious to be acquired.

A teacher, by adopting the following plan, succeeded in awakening a
great degree of interest on the subject, and, consequently, of promoting
rapid improvement. The plan was this: he prepared, on a large sheet of
paper, a series of lessons in coarse-hand, beginning with straight
lines, and proceeding to the elementary parts of the various letters,
and finally to the letters themselves. This paper was posted up in a
part of the room accessible to all.

The writing-books were made of three sheets of foolscap paper, folded
into a convenient size, making twenty-four pages in the book. The books
were to be ruled by the pupil, for it was thought important that each
should learn this art. Every pupil in school, then, being furnished with
one of these writing-books, was required to commence this series, and to
practice each lesson until he could write it well; then, and not till
then, he was permitted to pass to the next. A few brief directions were
given under each lesson on the large sheet. For example, under the line
of straight marks, which constituted the first lesson, was written as
follows:

_Straight, equidistant, parallel, smooth, well-terminated._

These directions were to call the attention of the pupil to the
excellences which he must aim at, and when he supposed he had secured
them, his book was to be presented to the teacher for examination. If
approved, the word _Passed_, or, afterward, simply _P_., was written
under the line, and he could then proceed to the next lesson. Other
requisites were necessary, besides the correct formation of the letters,
to enable one to pass; for example, the page must not be soiled or
blotted, no paper must be wasted, and, in no case, a leaf torn out. As
soon as _one line_ was written in the manner required, the scholar was
allowed to pass. In a majority of cases, however, not less than a page
would be practiced, and in many instances a sheet would be covered,
before one line could be produced which would be approved.

One peculiar excellency of this method was, that although the whole
school were working under a regular and systematic plan, individuals
could go on independently; that is, the progress of no scholar was
retarded by that of his companion; the one more advanced might easily
pass the earlier lessons in a few days, while the others would require
weeks of practice to acquire the same degree of skill.

During the writing-hour the scholars would practice each at the lesson
where he left off before, and at a particular time each day the books
were brought from the regular place of deposit and laid before the
teacher for examination. Without some arrangement for an examination of
all the books together, the teacher would be liable to interruption at
any time from individual questions and requests, which would consume
much time, and benefit only a few.

When a page of writing could not pass, a brief remark, calling the
attention of the pupil to the faults which prevented it, was sometimes
made in pencil at the bottom of the page. In other cases, the fault was
of such a character as to require full and minute oral directions to the
pupil. At last, to facilitate the criticism of the writing, a set of
arbitrary marks, indicative of the various faults, was devised and
applied, as occasion might require, to the writing-books, by means of
red ink.

These marks, which were very simple in their character, were easily
remembered, for there was generally some connection between the sign
and the thing signified. For example, the mark denoting that letters
were too short was simply lengthening them in red ink; a faulty curve
was denoted by making a new curve over the old one, &c. The following
are the principal criticisms and directions for which marks were
contrived:

  Strokes rough.                    Too tall or too short.
  Curve wrong.                      Stems not straight.
  Bad termination                   Careless work.
  Too slanting, and the reverse.    Paper wasted.
  Too broad, and the reverse.       Almost well enough to pass.
  Not parallel.                      Bring your book to the teacher.
  Form of the letter bad.           Former fault not corrected.
  Large stroke made too fine, and the reverse.

A catalogue of these marks, with an explanation, was made out and placed
where it was accessible to all, and by means of them the books could be
very easily and rapidly, but thoroughly criticised.

After the plan had gone on for some time, and its operation was fully
understood, the teacher gave up the business of examining the books into
the hands of a committee, appointed by him from among the older and more
advanced pupils. That the committee might be unbiased in their judgment,
they were required to examine and decide upon the books without knowing
the names of the writers. Each scholar was, indeed, required to place
her name on the right hand upper corner of every page of her
writing-book, for the convenience of the distributors; but this corner
was turned down when the book was brought in, that it might not be seen
by the committee.

This committee was invested with plenary powers, and there was no appeal
from their decision. In case they exercised their authority in an
improper way, or failed on any account to give satisfaction, they were
liable to impeachment, but while they continued in office they were to
be strictly obeyed.

This plan went on successfully for three months, and with very little
diminution of interest. The whole school went regularly through the
lessons in coarse-hand, and afterward through a similar series in
fine-hand, and improvement in this branch was thought to be greater than
at any former period in the same length of time.

The same principle of arranging the several steps of an art or a study
into a series of lessons, and requiring the pupil to pass regularly from
one to the other, might easily be applied to other studies, and would
afford an agreeable variety.

12. THE CORRESPONDENCE.--A master of a district school was walking
through the room with a large rule in his hands, and as he came up
behind two small boys, he observed that they were playing with some
papers. He struck them once or twice, though not very severely, on the
head with the rule which he had in his hand. Tears started from the eyes
of one. They were called forth by a mingled feeling of grief,
mortification, and pain. The other, who was of "sterner stuff," looked
steadily into the master's face, and when his back was turned, shook his
fist at him and laughed in defiance.

Another teacher, seeing a similar case, did nothing. The boys, when they
saw him, hastily gathered up their playthings and put them away. An hour
or two after, a little boy, who sat near the master, brought them a note
addressed to them both. They opened it, and read as follows:

"To EDWARD AND JOHN,--I observed, when I passed you to-day, from your
concerned looks, and your hurried manner of putting something into your
desk, that you were doing something that you knew was wrong. When you
attempt to do any thing whatever which conscience tells you is wrong,
you only make yourself uneasy and anxious while you do it, and then you
are forced to resort to concealment and deception when you see me
coming. You would be a great deal happier if you would always be doing
your duty, and then you would never be afraid. Your affectionate
teacher,----."

As the teacher was arranging his papers in his desk at the close of
school, he found a small piece of paper neatly folded up in the form of
a note, and addressed to him. He read as follows:

"DEAR TEACHER,--We are very much obliged to you for writing us a note.
We were making a paper box. We know it was wrong, and are determined not
to do so any more. We hope you will forgive us.

"Your pupils, EDWARD, JOHN."

Which of these teachers understood human nature best?

13. WEEKLY REPORTS.--The plan described by the following article, which
was furnished by a teacher for insertion here, was originally adopted,
so far as I know, in a school on the Kennebec. I have adopted it with
great advantage.

A teacher had one day been speaking to her scholars of certain cases of
slight disorder in the school, which, she remarked, had been gradually
creeping in, and which, as she thought, it devolved upon the scholars,
by systematic efforts, to repress. She enumerated instances of disorder
in the arrangement of the rooms, leaving the benches out of their
places, throwing waste papers upon the floor, having the desk in
disorder inside, spilling water upon the entry floor, irregular
deportment, such as too loud talking or laughing in recess, or in the
intermission at noon, or when coming to school, and making unnecessary
noise in going to or returning from recitations.

"I have a plan to propose," said the teacher, "which I think may be the
pleasantest way of promoting a reform in things of this kind. It is
this. Let several of your number be chosen a committee to prepare
statedly--perhaps as often as once a week--a written report of the state
of the school. The report might be read before the school at the close
of each week. The committee might consist, in the whole, of seven or
eight, or even of eleven or twelve individuals, who should take the
whole business into their hands. This committee might appoint
individuals of their number to write in turn each week. By this
arrangement, it would not be known to the school generally who are the
writers of any particular report, if the individuals wish to be
anonymous. Two individuals might be appointed at the beginning of the
week, who should feel it their business to observe particularly the
course of things from day to day with reference to the report.
Individuals not members of the committee can render assistance by any
suggestions they may present to this committee. These should, however,
generally be made in writing.

"Subjects for such a report will be found to suggest themselves very
abundantly, though you may not perhaps think so at first. The committee
may be empowered not only to state the particulars in which things are
going wrong, but the methods by which they may be made right. Let them
present us with any suggestions they please. If we do not like them, we
are not obliged to adopt them. For instance, it is generally the case,
whenever a recitation is attended in the corner yonder, that an end of
one of the benches is put against the door, so as to occasion a serious
interruption to the exercises when a person wishes to come in or go out.
It would come within the province of the committee to attend to such a
case as this, that is, to bring it up in the report. The remedy in such
a case is a very simple one. Suppose, however, that instead of the
_simple_ remedy, our committee should propose that the classes reciting
in the said corner should be dissolved and the studies abolished? We
should know the proposal was an absurd one, but then it would do no
hurt; we should have only to reject it.

"Again, besides our faults, let our committee notice the respects in
which we are doing particularly well, that we may be encouraged to go on
doing well, or even to do better. If they think, for example, that we
are deserving of credit for the neatness with which books are kept--for
their freedom from blots, or scribblings, or dog's-ears, by which
school-books are so commonly defaced, let them tell us so. And the same
of any other excellence."

With the plan as thus presented, the scholars were very much pleased. It
was proposed by one individual that such a committee should be appointed
immediately, and a report prepared for the ensuing week. This was done.
The committee were chosen by ballot. The following may be taken as a
specimen of their reports:

WEEKLY REPORT.

"The Committee appointed to write the weekly report have noticed several
things which they think wrong. In the first place, there have been a
greater number of tardy scholars during the past week than usual. Much
of this tardiness, we suppose, is owing to the interest felt in building
the bower; but we think this business ought to be attended to only in
play-hours. If only one or two come in late when we are reading in the
morning, or after we have composed ourselves to study at the close of
the recess, every scholar must look up from her book--we do not say they
ought to do so, but only that they will do so. However, we anticipate an
improvement in this respect, as we know 'a word to the wise is
sufficient.'

"In the two back rows we are sorry to say that we have noticed
whispering. We know that this fact will very much distress our teacher,
as she expects assistance, and not trouble, from our older scholars. It
is not our business to reprove any one's misconduct, but it is our duty
to mention it, however disagreeable it may be. We think the younger
scholars, during the past week, have much improved in this respect. Only
three cases of whispering among them have occurred to our knowledge.

"We remember some remarks made a few weeks ago by our teacher on the
practice of prompting each other in the classes. We wish she would
repeat them, for we fear that, by some, they are forgotten. In the class
in Geography, particularly in the questions on the map, we have noticed
sly whispers, which, we suppose, were the hints of some kind friend
designed to refresh the memory of her less attentive companion. We
propose that the following question be now put to vote. Shall the
practice of prompting in the classes be any longer continued?

"We would propose that we have a composition exercise _this_ week
similar to the one on Thursday last. It was very interesting, and we
think all would be willing to try their thinking powers once more. We
would propose, also, that the readers of the compositions should sit
near the centre of the room, as last week many fine sentences escaped
the ears of those seated in the remote corners.

"We were requested by a very public-spirited individual to mention once
more the want of three nails, for bonnets, in the entry. Also, to say
that the air from the broken pane of glass on the east side of the room
is very unpleasant to those who sit near.

"Proposed that the girls who exhibited so much taste and ingenuity in
the arrangement of the festoons of evergreen, and tumblers of flowers
around the teacher's desk, be now requested to remove the faded roses
and drooping violets. We have gazed on these sad emblems long enough.

"Finally, proposed that greater care be taken by those who stay at noon
to place their dinner-baskets in proper places. The contents of more
than one were partly strewed upon the entry floor this morning."

If such a measure as this is adopted, it should not be continued
uninterrupted for a very long time. Every thing of this sort should be
occasionally changed, or it sooner or later becomes only a form.

14. THE SHOPPING EXERCISE.--I have often, when going a shopping, found
difficulty and trouble in making change. I could never calculate very
readily, and in the hurry and perplexity of the moment I was always
making mistakes. I have heard others often make the same complaint, and
I resolved to try the experiment of regularly teaching children to make
change. I had a bright little class in Arithmetic, the members of which
were always ready to engage with interest in any thing new, and to them
I proposed my plan. It was to be called the Shopping Exercise. I first
requested each individual to write something upon her slate which she
would like to buy, if she was going a shopping, stating the quantity she
wished and the price of it. To make the first lesson as simple as
possible, I requested no one to go above ten, either in the quantity or
price. When all were ready, I called upon some to read what she had
written. Her next neighbor was then requested to tell us how much the
purchase would amount to. Then the first one named a bill, which she
supposed to be offered in payment, and the second showed what change was
needed. A short specimen of the exercise will probably make it clearer
than mere description.

_Mary_. Eight ounces of candy at seven cents.

_Susan_. Fifty-six cents.

_Mary_. One dollar.

_Susan_. Forty-four cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Susan_. Nine yards of lace at eight cents.

_Anna_. Seventy-two cents.

_Susan_. Two dollars.

_Anna_. One dollar and twenty-eight cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Anna_. Three pieces of tape at five cents.

_Jane_. Fifteen cents.

_Anna_. Three dollars.

_Jane_. Eighty-five cents.

_Several voices_. Wrong.

_Jane_. Two dollars and eighty-five cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Jane_. Six pictures at eight cents.

_Sarah_. Forty-two cents.

_Several voices_. Wrong.

_Sarah_. Forty-eight cents.

_Jane_. One dollar.

_Sarah_. Sixty-two cents.

_Several voices_. Wrong.

_Sarah_. Fifty-two cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

It will be perceived that the same individual who names the article and
the price names also the bill which she would give in payment; and the
one who sits next her, who calculated the amount, calculated also the
change to be returned. She then proposed _her_ example to the one next
in the line, with whom the same course was pursued, and thus it passed
down the class.

The exercise went on for some time in this way, till the pupils had
become so familiar with it that I thought it best to allow them to take
higher numbers. They were always interested in it, and made great
improvement in a short time, and I myself derived great advantage from
listening to them.

There is one more circumstance I will add which may contribute to the
interest of this account. While the class were confined, in what they
purchased, to the number ten, they were sometimes inclined to turn the
exercise into a frolic. The variety of articles which they could find
costing less than ten cents was so small, that, for the sake of getting
something new, they would propose examples really ludicrous, such as
these: three meeting-houses at two cents; four pianos at nine cents. But
I soon found that if I allowed this at all, their attention was diverted
from the main object, and occupied in seeking the most diverting and
curious examples.

15. ARTIFICES IN RECITATIONS.--The teacher of a small newly-established
school had all of his scholars classed together in some of their
studies. At recitations he usually sat in the middle of the room, while
the scholars occupied the usual places at their desks, which were
arranged around the sides. In the recitation in Rhetoric, the teacher,
after a time, observed that one or two of the class seldom answered
appropriately the questions which came to them, but yet were always
ready with some kind of answer--generally an exact quotation of the
words of the book. Upon noticing these individuals more particularly, he
was convinced that their books were open before them in some concealed
situation. Another practice not uncommon in the class was that of
_prompting_ each other, either by whispers or writing. The teacher took
no notice publicly of these practices for some time, until, at the close
of an uncommonly good recitation, he remarked, "I think we have had a
fine recitation to-day. It is one of the most agreeable things that I
ever do to hear a lesson that is learned as well as this. Do you think
it would be possible for us to have as good an exercise every day?"
"Yes, sir," answered several, faintly. "Do you think it would be
reasonable for me to expect of every member of the class that she should
always be able to recite all her lessons without ever missing a single
question?" "No, sir," answered all. "I do not expect it," said the
teacher. "All I wish is that each of you should be faithful in your
efforts to prepare your lessons. I wish you to study from a sense of
duty, and for the sake of your own improvement. You know I do not punish
you for failures. I have no going up or down, no system of marking. Your
only reward, when you have made faithful preparation for a recitation,
is the feeling of satisfaction which you will always experience; and
when you have been negligent, your only punishment is a sort of uneasy
feeling of self-reproach. I do not expect you all to be invariably
prepared with every question of your lessons. Sometimes you will be
unavoidably prevented from studying them, and at other times, when you
have studied them very carefully, you may have forgotten, or you may
fail from some misapprehension of the meaning in some cases. Do not, in
such a case, feel troubled because you may not have appeared as well as
some individual who has not been half as faithful as yourself. If you
have done your duty, that is enough. On the other hand, you ought to
feel no better satisfied with yourselves when your lesson has not been
studied well, because you may have happened to know the parts which came
to you. Have I _done_ well? should always be the question, not, Have I
managed to _appear_ well?

"I will say a word here," continued the teacher, "upon a practice which
I have known to be very common in some schools, and which I have been
sorry to notice occasionally in this. I mean that of prompting, or
helping each other along in some way at recitations. Now where a severe
punishment is the consequence of a failure, there might seem to be some
reasonableness in helping your companions out of difficulty, though even
then such tricks are departures from honorable dealing. But, especially
where there is no purpose to be served but that of appearing to know
more than you do, it certainly must be considered a very mean kind of
artifice. I think I have sometimes observed an individual to be prompted
where evidently the assistance was not desired, and even where it was
not needed. To whisper to an individual the answer to a question is
sometimes to pay her rather a poor compliment at least, for it is the
same as saying 'I am a better scholar than you are; let me help you
along a little.'

"Let us then, hereafter, have only fair, open, honest dealings with each
other; no attempts to appear to advantage by little artful manoeuvring;
no prompting; no peeping into books. Be faithful and conscientious, and
then banish anxiety for your success. Do you not think you will find
this the best course?" "Yes, sir," answered every scholar. "Are you
willing to pledge yourselves to adopt it?" "Yes, sir." "Those who are
may raise their hands," said the teacher. Every hand was raised; and the
pledge, there was evidence to believe, was honorably sustained.

16. KEEPING RESOLUTIONS.--The following are notes of a familiar lecture
on this subject, given by a teacher at some general exercise in the
school. The practice of thus reducing to writing what the teacher may
say on such subjects will be attended with excellent effects.

This is a subject upon which young persons find much difficulty. The
question is asked a thousand times, "How shall I ever learn to keep my
resolutions?" Perhaps the great cause of your failures is this. You are
not sufficiently _definite_ in forming your purposes. You will resolve
to do a thing without knowing with certainty whether it is even possible
to do it. Again, you make resolutions which are to run on indefinitely,
so that, of course, they can never be fully kept. For instance, one of
you will resolve to _rise earlier in the morning._ You fix upon no
definite hour, on any definite number of mornings, only you are going
to "_rise earlier_." Morning comes, and finds you sleepy and disinclined
to rise. You remember your resolution of rising earlier. "But then it is
_very_ early," you say. You resolved to rise earlier, but you didn't
resolve to rise just then. And this, it may be, is the last of your
resolution. Or perhaps you are, for a few mornings, a little earlier;
but then, at the end of a week or fortnight, you do not know exactly
whether your resolution has been broken or kept, for you had not decided
whether to rise earlier for ten days or for ten years.

In the same vague and general manner, a person will resolve to be _more
studious_ or more diligent. In the case of an individual of a mature and
well-disciplined mind, of acquired firmness of character, such a
resolution might have effect. The individual will really devote more
time and attention to his pursuits. But for one of you to make such a
resolution would do no sort of good. It would only be a source of
trouble and disquiet. You perceive there is nothing definite--nothing
fixed about it. You have not decided what amount of additional time or
attention to give to your studies, or when you will begin, or when you
will end. There is no one time when you will feel that you are breaking
your resolution, because there were no particular times when you were to
study more. You waste one opportunity and another, and then, with a
feeling of discouragement and self-reproach, conclude to abandon your
resolution. "Oh! It does no good to make resolutions," you say; "I never
shall keep them."

Now, if you would have the business of making resolutions a pleasant and
interesting instead of a discouraging, disquieting one, you must proceed
in a different manner. Be definite and distinct in your plan; decide
exactly what you will do, and how you will do it--when you will begin,
and when you will end. Instead of resolving to "rise earlier," resolve
to rise at the ringing of the sunrise bells, or at some other definite
time. Resolve to try this, as an experiment, for one morning, or for one
week, or fortnight. Decide positively, if you decide at all, and then
rise when the time comes, sleepy or not sleepy. Do not stop to repent of
your resolution, or to consider the wisdom or folly of it, when the time
for acting under it has once arrived.

In all cases, little and great, make this a principle--to consider well
before you begin to act, but after you have begun to act, never stop to
consider. Resolve as deliberately as you please, but be sure to keep
your resolution, whether a wise one or an unwise one, after it is once
made. Never allow yourself to reconsider the question of getting up,
after the morning has come, except it be for some unforeseen
circumstance. Get up for that time, and be more careful how you make
resolutions again.

17. TOPICS.--The plan of the Topic Exercise, as we called it, is this.
Six or seven topics are given out, information upon which is to be
obtained from any source, and communicated verbally before the whole
school, or sometimes before a class formed for this purpose the next
day. The subjects are proposed both by teacher and scholars, and if
approved, adopted. The exercise is intended to be voluntary, but ought
to be managed in a way sufficiently interesting to induce all to join.

At the commencement of the exercise the teacher calls upon all who have
any information in regard to the topic assigned--suppose, for example,
it is _Alabaster_--to rise. Perhaps twenty individuals out of forty
rise. The teacher may perhaps say to those in their seats,

"Do you not know any thing of this subject? Have you neither seen nor
heard of alabaster, and had no means of ascertaining any thing in regard
to it? If you have, you ought to rise. It is not necessary that you
should state a fact altogether new and unheard-of, but if you tell me
its color, or some of the uses to which it is applied, you will be
complying with my request."

After these remarks, perhaps a few more rise, and possibly the whole
school. Individuals are then called upon at random, each to state only
one particular in regard to the topic in question. This arrangement is
made so as to give all an opportunity to speak. If any scholar, after
having mentioned one fact, has something still farther to communicate,
she remains standing till called upon again. As soon as an individual
has exhausted her stock of information, or if the facts that she
intended to mention are stated by another, she takes her seat.

The topics at first most usually selected are the common objects by
which we are surrounded--for example, glass, iron, mahogany, and the
like. The list will gradually extend itself, until it will embrace a
large number of subjects.

The object of this exercise is to induce pupils to seek for general
information in an easy and pleasant manner, as by the perusal of books,
newspapers, periodicals, and conversation with friends. It induces care
and attention in reading, and discrimination in selecting the most
useful and important facts from the mass of information. As individuals
are called upon, also, to express their ideas _verbally_, they soon
acquire by practice the power of expressing them with clearness and
force, and communicating with ease and confidence the knowledge they
possess.

18. Music.--The girls of our school often amused themselves in recess by
collecting into little groups for singing. As there seemed to be a
sufficient power of voice, and a respectable number who were willing to
join in the performance, it was proposed one day that singing should be
introduced as a part of the devotional exercises of the school.

The first attempt nearly resulted in a failure; only a few trembling
voices succeeded in singing Old Hundred to the words "Be thou," etc. On
the second day Peterborough was sung with much greater confidence on the
part of the increased number of singers. The experiment was tried with
greater and greater success for several days, when the teacher proposed
that a systematic plan should be formed, by which there might be singing
regularly at the close of school. It was then proposed that a number of
singing-books be obtained, and one of the scholars, who was well
acquainted with common tunes, be appointed as chorister. Her duty should
be to decide what particular tune may be sung each day, inform the
teacher of the metre of the hymn, and take the lead in the exercise.
This plan, being approved of by the scholars, was adopted, and put into
immediate execution. Several brought copies of the Sabbath School
Hymn-Book, which they had in their possession, and the plan succeeded
beyond all expectation. The greatest difficulty in the way was to get
some one to lead. The chorister, however, was somewhat relieved from the
embarrassment which she would naturally feel in making a beginning by
the appointment of one or two individuals with herself, who were to act
as her assistants. These constituted the _leading_ committee, or, as it
was afterward termed, _Singing Committee_.

Singing now became a regular and interesting exercise of the school, and
the committee succeeded in managing the business themselves.

19. TABU.--An article was one day read in a school relating to the
"Tabu" of the Sandwich Islanders. Tabu is a term with them which
signifies consecrated--not to be touched--to be let alone--not to be
violated. Thus, according to their religious observances, a certain day
will be proclaimed _Tabu_; that is, one upon which there is to be no
work or no going out.

A few days after this article was read, the scholars observed one
morning a flower stuck up in a conspicuous place against the wall, with
the word TABU in large characters above it. This excited considerable
curiosity. The teacher informed them, in explanation, that the flower
was a very rare and beautiful specimen, brought by one of the scholars,
which he wished all to examine. "You would naturally feel a disposition
to examine it by the touch," said he, "but you will all see that, by the
time it was touched by sixty individuals, it would be likely to be
injured, if not destroyed. So I concluded to label it _Tabu_. And it has
occurred to me that this will be a convenient mode of apprising you
generally that any article must not be handled. You know we sometimes
have some apparatus exposed, which would be liable to injury from
disturbance, where there are so many persons to touch it. I shall, in
such a case, just mention that an article is Tabu, and you will
understand that it is not only not to be _injured_, but not even
_touched_."

A little delicate management of this sort will often have more influence
over young persons than the most vehement scolding, or the most watchful
and jealous precautions. The Tabu was always most scrupulously regarded,
after this, whenever employed.

20. MENTAL ANALYSIS.--Scene, a class in Arithmetic at recitation. The
teacher gives them an example in addition, requesting them, when they
have performed it, to rise. Some finish it very soon, others are very
slow in accomplishing the work.

"I should like to ascertain," says the teacher, "how great is the
difference of rapidity with which different members of the class work in
addition. I will give you another example, and then notice by my watch
the shortest and longest time required to do it."

The result of the experiment was that some members of the class were two
or three times as long in doing it as others.

"Perhaps you think," said the teacher, "that this difference is
altogether owing to difference of skill; but it is not. It is mainly
owing to the different methods adopted by various individuals. I am
going to describe some of these, and, as I describe them, I wish you
would notice them carefully, and tell me which you practice."

There are, then, three modes of adding up a column of figures, which I
shall describe.

1. I shall call the first _counting_. You take the first figure, and
then add the next to it by counting up regularly. There are three
distinct ways of doing this.

(a.) "Counting by your fingers." ("Yes, sir.") "You take the first
figure--suppose it is seven--and the one above it, eight. Now you
recollect that to add eight, you must count all the fingers of one
hand, and all but two again. So you say 'seven--eight, nine, ten,
eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.'"

"Yes, sir, yes, sir," said the scholars.

(b.) The next mode of counting is to do it mentally, without using your
fingers at all; but, as it is necessary for you to have some plan to
secure your adding the right number, you divide the units into sets of
two each. Thus you remember that eight consists of four twos, and you
accordingly say, when adding eight to seven, 'Seven; eight, nine; ten,
eleven; twelve, thirteen,' &c.

(c.) "The third mode is to add by threes in the same way. You recollect
that eight consists of two threes and a two; so you say, 'Seven; eight,
nine, ten; eleven, twelve, thirteen; fourteen, fifteen.'"

The teacher here stops to ascertain how many of the class are accustomed
to add in either of these modes. It is a majority.

2. The next general method is _calculating_; that is, you do not unite
one number to another by the dull and tedious method of applying the
units, one by one, as in the ways described under the preceding head,
but you come to a result more rapidly by some mode of calculating. These
modes are several.

(a.) "Doubling a number, and then adding or subtracting, as the case may
require. For instance, in the example already specified, in order to add
seven and eight, you say, 'Twice seven are fourteen, and one are
fifteen'" ("Yes, sir, yes, sir"); "or, 'Twice eight are sixteen, and
taking one off leaves fifteen." ("Yes, sir.")

(b.) Another way of calculating is to skip about the column, adding
those numbers which you can combine most easily, and then bringing in
the rest as you best can. Thus, if you see three eights in one column,
you say, 'Three times eight are twenty-four,' and then you try to bring
in the other numbers. Often, in such cases, you forget what you have
added and what you have not, and get confused ("Yes, sir"), or you omit
something in your work, and consequently it is incorrect.

(c.) If nines occur, you sometimes add ten, and then take off one, for
it is very easy to add ten.

(d.) Another method of calculating, which is, however, not very common,
is this: to take our old case, adding eight to seven, you take as much
from the eight to add to the seven as will be sufficient to make ten,
and then it will be easy to add the rest. Thus you think in a minute
that three from the eight will make the seven a ten, and then there will
be five more to add, which will make fifteen. If the next number was
seven, you would say five of it will make twenty, and then there will be
two left, which will make twenty-two.' This mode, though it may seem
more intricate than any of the others, is, in fact, more rapid than any
of them, when one is a little accustomed to it.

"These are the four principal modes of calculating which occur to me.
Pupils do not generally practice any of them exclusively, but
occasionally resort to each, according to the circumstances of the
particular case."

The teacher here stopped to inquire how many of the class were
accustomed to add by calculating in either of these ways or in any
simpler ways.

3. "There is one more mode which I shall describe: it is by _memory_.
Before I explain this mode, I wish to ask you some questions, which I
should like to have you answer as quick as you can.

"How much is four times five? Four _and_ five?

"How much is seven times nine? Seven _and_ nine?

"Eight times six? Eight _and_ six?

"Nine times seven? Nine _and_ seven?"

After asking a few questions of this kind, it was perceived that the
pupils could tell much more readily what was the result when the
numbers were to be multiplied than when they were to be added.

"The reason is," said the teacher, "because you committed the
multiplication table to memory, and have not committed the addition
table. Now many persons have committed the addition table, so that it is
perfectly familiar to them, and when they see any two numbers, the
amount which is produced when they are added together comes to mind in
an instant. Adding in this way is the last of the three modes I was to
describe.

"Now of these three methods the last is undoubtedly the best. If you
once commit the addition table thoroughly, you have it fixed for life;
whereas if you do not, you have to make the calculation over again every
time, and thus lose a vast amount of labor. I have no doubt that there
are some in this class who are in the habit of _counting_, who have
ascertained that seven and eight, for instance, make fifteen, by
counting up from seven to fifteen _hundreds of times_. Now how much
better it would be to spend a little time in fixing the fact in the mind
once for all, and then, when you come to the case, seven and eight
are--say at once 'Fifteen,' instead of mumbling over and over again,
hundreds of times, 'Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen,
fourteen, fifteen.'

"The reason, then, that some of the class add so slowly, is not,
probably, because they want skill and rapidity of execution, but because
they work to a great disadvantage by working in the wrong way. I have
often been surprised at the dexterity and speed with which some scholars
can count with their fingers when adding, and yet they could not get
through the sum very quick--at least they would have done it in half the
time if the same effort had been made in traveling on a shorter road. We
will therefore study the addition table now, in the class, before we go
any farther."

21. TARDINESS.--When only a few scholars in a school are tardy, it may
be their fault; but if a great many are so, it is the fault of the
teacher or of the school. If a school is prosperous, and the children
are going on well and happily in their studies, they will like their
work in it; but we all come reluctantly to work which we are conscious
we are not successfully performing.

There may be two boys in a school, both good boys; one, may be going on
well in his classes, while the other, from the concurrence of some
accidental train of circumstances, may be behindhand in his work, or
wrongly classed, or so situated in other respects that his school duties
perplex and harass him day by day. Now how different will be the
feelings of these two boys in respect to coming to school. The one will
be eager and prompt to reach his place and commence his duties, while
the other will love much better to loiter in idleness and liberty in the
open air. Nor is he, under the circumstances of the case, to blame for
this preference. There is no one, old or young, who likes or can like to
do what he himself and all around him think that he does not do well. It
is true the teacher can not rely wholly on the interest which his
scholars take in their studies to make them punctual at school; but if
he finds among them any very general disposition to be tardy, he ought
to seek for the fault mainly in himself and not in them.

The foregoing narratives and examples, it is hoped, may induce some of
the readers of this book to keep journals of their own experiments, and
of the incidents which may, from time to time, come under their notice,
illustrating the principles of education, or simply the characteristics
and tendencies of the youthful mind. The business of teaching will
excite interest and afford pleasure just in proportion to the degree in
which it is conducted by operations of mind upon mind, and the means of
making it most fully so are careful practice, based upon and regulated
by the results of careful observation. Every teacher, then, should make
observations and experiments upon mind a part of his daily duty, and
nothing will more facilitate this than keeping a record of results.
There can be no opportunity for studying human nature more favorable
than the teacher enjoys. The materials are all before him; his very
business, from day to day, brings him to act directly upon them; and the
study of the powers and tendencies of the human mind is not only the
most interesting and the noblest that can engage human attention, but
every step of progress he makes in it imparts an interest and charm to
what would otherwise be a weary toil. It at once relieves his labors,
while it doubles their efficiency and success.




CHAPTER IX.


THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY.

[Illustration]

The teacher enters upon the duties of his office by a much more sudden
transition than is common in the other avocations and employments of
life. In ordinary cases, business comes at first by slow degrees, and
the beginner is introduced to the labors and responsibilities of his
employment in a very gradual manner. The young teacher, however, enters
by a single step into the very midst of his labors. Having, perhaps,
never even heard a class recite before, he takes a short walk some
winter morning, and suddenly finds himself instated at the desk, his
fifty scholars around him, all looking him in the face, and waiting to
be employed. Every thing comes upon him at once. He can do nothing until
the day and the hour for opening the school arrives--then he has every
thing to do.

Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that the young teacher
should look forward with unusual solicitude to his first day in school,
and he desires, ordinarily, special instructions in respect to this
occasion. Some such special instructions we propose to give in this
chapter. The experienced teacher may think some of them too minute and
trivial. But he must remember that they are intended for the youngest
beginner in the humblest school; and if he recalls to mind his own
feverish solicitude on the morning when he went to take his first
command in the district school, he will pardon the seeming minuteness of
detail.

1. It will be well for the young teacher to take opportunity, between
the time of his engaging his school and that of his commencing it, to
acquire as much information in respect to it beforehand as possible, so
as to be somewhat acquainted with the scene of his labors before
entering upon it. Ascertain the names and the characters of the
principal families in the district, their ideas and wishes in respect to
the government of the school, the kind of management adopted by one or
two of the last teachers, the difficulties they fell into, the nature of
the complaints made against them, if any, and the families with whom
difficulty has usually arisen. This information must, of course, be
obtained in private conversation; a good deal of it must be, from its
very nature, highly confidential; but it is very important that the
teacher should be possessed of it. He will necessarily become possessed
of it by degrees in the course of his administration, when, however, it
may be too late to be of any service to him. But, by judicious and
proper efforts to acquire it beforehand, he will enter upon the
discharge of his duties with great advantage. It is like a navigator's
becoming acquainted beforehand with the nature and the dangers of the
sea over which he is about to sail.

Such inquiries as these will, in ordinary cases, bring to the teacher's
knowledge, in most districts in our country, some cases of peculiarly
troublesome scholars, or unreasonable and complaining parents; and
stories of their unjustifiable conduct on former occasions will come to
him exaggerated by the jealousy of rival neighbors. There is danger that
his resentment may be roused a little, and that his mind will assume a
hostile attitude at once toward such individuals, so that he will enter
upon his work rather with a desire to seek a collision with them, or, at
least, with secret feelings of defiance toward them--feelings which will
lead to that kind of unbending perpendicularity in his demeanor toward
them which will almost inevitably lead to a collision. Now this is
wrong. There is, indeed, a point where firm resistance to unreasonable
demands becomes a duty; but, as a general principle, it is most
unquestionably true that it is the teacher's duty _to accommodate
himself to the character and expectations of his employers_, not to face
and brave them. Those italicized words _may be_ understood to mean
something which would be entirely wrong; but in the sense in which I
mean to use them there can be no question that they indicate the proper
path for one employed by others to do work _for them_ in all cases to
pursue. If, therefore, the teacher finds by his inquiries into the state
of his district that there are some peculiar difficulties and dangers
there, let him not cherish a disposition to face and resist them, but to
avoid them. Let him go with an intention to soothe rather than to
irritate feelings which have been wounded before, to comply with the
wishes of all so far as he can, even if they are not entirely
reasonable, and, while he endeavors to elevate the standard and correct
the opinions prevailing among his employers by any means in his power,
to aim at doing it gently, and in a tone and manner suitable to the
relation he sustains--in a word, let him skillfully _avoid_ the dangers
of his navigation, not obstinately run his ship against a rock on
purpose on the ground that the rock has no business to be there.

This is the spirit, then, with which these preliminary inquiries in
regard to the patrons of the school ought to be made. We come now to a
second point.

2. It will assist the young teacher very much in his first day's labors
if he takes measures for seeing and conversing with some of the older or
more intelligent scholars on the day or evening before he begins his
school, with a view of obtaining from them some acquaintance with the
internal arrangements and customs of the school. The object of this is
to obtain the same kind of information with respect to the interior of
the school that was recommended in respect to the district under the
former head. He may call upon a few families, especially those which
furnish a large number of scholars for the school, and make as many
minute inquiries of them as he can respecting all the interior
arrangements to which they have been accustomed, what reading-books and
other text-books have been used, what are the principal classes in all
the several departments of instruction, and what is the system of
discipline, and of rewards and punishments, to which the school has been
accustomed.

If, in such conversations, the teacher should find a few intelligent and
communicative scholars, he might learn a great deal about the past
habits and condition of the school, which would be of great service to
him. Not, by any means, that he will adopt and continue these methods as
a matter of course, but only that a knowledge of them will render him
very important aid in marking out his own course. The more minute and
full the information of this sort is which he thus obtains, the better.
If practicable, it would be well to make out a catalogue of all the
principal classes, with the names of those individuals belonging to them
who will probably attend the new school, and the order in which they
were usually called upon to read or recite. The conversation which would
be necessary to accomplish this would of itself be of great service. It
would bring the teacher into an acquaintance with several important
families and groups of children under the most favorable circumstances.
The parents would see and be pleased with the kind of interest they
would see the teacher taking in his new duties. The children would be
pleased to be able to render their new instructor some service, and
would go to the school-room on the next morning with a feeling of
acquaintance with him, and a predisposition to be pleased. And if by
chance any family should be thus called upon that had heretofore been
captious or complaining, or disposed to be jealous of the higher
importance or influence of other families, that spirit would be entirely
softened and subdued by such an interview with their new instructor at
their own fireside on the evening preceding the commencement of his
labors. The great object, however, which the teacher would have in view
in such inquiries should be the value of the information itself. As to
the use which he will make of it, we shall speak hereafter.

3. It is desirable that the young teacher should meet his scholars first
in an unofficial capacity. For this purpose, repair to the school-room
on the first day at an early hour, so as to see and become acquainted
with the scholars as they come in one by one. The intercourse between
teacher and pupil should be like that between parents and children,
where the utmost freedom is united with the most perfect respect. The
father who is most firm and decisive in his family government can mingle
most freely in the conversation and sports of his children without any
derogation of his authority, or diminution of the respect they owe.
Young teachers, however, are prone to forget this, and to imagine that
they must assume an appearance of stern authority always, when in the
presence of their scholars, if they wish to be respected or obeyed. This
they call keeping up their dignity. Accordingly, they wait, on the
morning of their induction into office, until their new subjects are all
assembled, and then walk in with an air of the highest dignity, and with
the step of a king; and sometimes a formidable instrument of discipline
is carried in the hand to heighten the impression. Now there is no
question that it is of great importance that scholars should have a high
idea of the teacher's firmness and inflexible decision in maintaining
his authority and repressing all disorder of every kind, but this
impression should be created by their seeing how he _acts_ in the
various emergencies which will spontaneously occur, and not by assuming
airs of importance or dignity, feigned for effect. In other words, their
respect for him should be based on _real traits_ of character as they
see them brought out into natural action, and not on appearances assumed
for the occasion.

It seems to me, therefore, that it is best for the teacher first to meet
his scholars with the air and tone of free and familiar intercourse, and
he will find his opportunity more favorable for doing this if he goes
early on the first morning of his labors, and converses freely with
those whom he finds there, and with others as they come in. He may take
an interest with them in all the little arrangements connected with the
opening of the school--the building of the fire, the paths through the
snow, the arrangements of seats; calling upon them for information or
aid, asking their names, and, in a word, entering fully and freely into
conversation with them, just as a parent, under similar circumstances,
would do with his children. All the children thus addressed will be
pleased with the gentleness and affability of the teacher. Even a rough
and ill-natured boy, who has perhaps come to the school with the express
determination of attempting to make mischief, will be completely
disarmed by being asked politely to help the teacher arrange the fire,
or alter the position of his desk. Thus, by means of the half hour
during which the scholars are coming together, and of the visits made in
the preceding evening, as described under the last head, the teacher
will find, when he calls upon the children to take their seats, that he
has made a very large number of them his personal friends. Many of these
will have communicated their first impressions to the others, so that he
will find himself possessed, at the outset, of that which is of vital
consequence in the opening of any administration--a strong party in his
favor.

4. The time for calling the school to order and commencing exercises of
some sort will at length arrive, though if the work of making personal
acquaintances is going on prosperously, it may perhaps be delayed a
little beyond the usual hour. When, however, the time arrives, we would
strongly recommend that the first service by which the regular duties of
the school are commenced should be an act of religious worship. There
are many reasons why the exercises of the school should every day be
thus commenced, and there are special reasons for it on the first day.

There are very few districts where parents would have any objection to
this. They might, indeed, in some cases, if the subject were to be
brought up formally before them as a matter of doubt, anticipate some
difficulties, or create imaginary ones, growing out of the supposed
sensitiveness of contending sects; but if the teacher were, of his own
accord, to commence the plain, faithful, and honest discharge of this
duty as a matter of course, very few would think of making any objection
to it, and almost all would be satisfied and pleased with its actual
operation. If, however, the teacher should, in any case, have reason to
believe that such a practice would be contrary to the wishes of his
employers, it would, according to views we have presented in another
chapter, be wrong for him to attempt to introduce it. He might, if he
should see fit, make such an objection a reason for declining to take
the school; but he ought not, if he takes it, to act counter to the
known wishes of his employers in so important a point. But if, on the
other hand, no such objections are made known to him, he need not raise
the question himself at all, but take it for granted that in a Christian
land there will be no objection to imploring the Divine protection and
blessing at the opening of a daily school.

If this practice is adopted, it will have a most powerful influence upon
the moral condition of the school. It must be so. Though many will be
inattentive, and many utterly unconcerned, yet it is not possible to
bring children, even in form, into the presence of God every day, and
to utter in their hearing the petitions which they ought to present,
without bringing a powerful element of moral influence to bear upon
their hearts. The good will be made better; the conscientious more
conscientious still; and the rude and savage will be subdued and
softened by the daily attempt to lead them to the throne of their
Creator. To secure this effect, the devotional service must be an honest
one. There must be nothing feigned or hypocritical; no hackneyed phrases
used without meaning, or intonations of assumed solemnity. It must be
honest, heartfelt, simple prayer; the plain and direct expression of
such sentiments as children ought to feel, and of such petitions as they
ought to offer. We shall speak presently of the mode of avoiding some
abuses to which this exercise is liable; but if these sources of abuse
are avoided, and the duty is performed in that plain, simple, direct,
and honest manner in which it certainly will be if it springs from the
heart, it must have a great influence on the moral progress of the
children, and, in fact, in all respects on the prosperity of the school.

But, then, independently of the _advantages_ which may be expected to
result from the practice of daily prayer in school, it would seem to be
the imperious _duty_ of the teacher to adopt it. So many human minds
committed thus to the guidance of one, at a period when the character
receives so easily and so permanently its shape and direction, and in a
world of probation like this, is an occasion which seems to demand the
open recognition of the hand of God on the part of any individual to
whom such a trust is committed. The duty springs so directly out of the
attitude in which the teacher and pupil stand in respect to each other,
and the relation they together bear to the Supreme, that it would seem
impossible for any one to hesitate to admit the duty, without denying
altogether the existence of a God.

How vast the responsibility _of giving form and character to the human
soul!_ How mighty the influence of which the unformed minds of a group
of children are susceptible! How much their daily teacher must
inevitably exert upon them! If we admit the existence of God at all, and
that he exerts any agency whatever in the moral world which he has
produced, here seems to be one of the strongest cases in which his
intervention should be sought. And then, when we reflect upon the
influence which would be exerted upon the future religious character of
this nation by having the millions of children training up in the
schools accustomed, through all the years of early life, to being
brought daily into the presence of the Supreme, with thanksgiving,
confession, and prayer, it can hardly seem possible that the teacher who
wishes to be faithful in his duties should hesitate in regard to this.
Some teacher may perhaps say that he can not perform it because he is
not a religious man--he makes no pretensions to piety. But this can
surely be no reason. He _ought to be_ a religious man, and his first
prayer offered in school may be the first act by which he becomes so.
Entering the service of Jehovah is a work which requires no preliminary
steps. It is to be done at once by sincere confession, and an honest
prayer for forgiveness for the past, and strength for time to come. A
daily religious service in school may be, therefore, the outward act by
which he, who has long lived without God, may return to his duty.

If, from such considerations, the teacher purposes to have a daily
religious service in his school, he should by all means begin on the
first day, and when he first calls his school to order. He should
mention to his pupils the great and obvious duty of imploring God's
guidance and blessing in all their ways, and then read a short portion
of Scripture, with an occasional word or two of simple explanation, and
offer, himself, a short and simple prayer. In some cases, teachers are
disposed to postpone this duty a day or two, from timidity or other
causes, hoping that, after becoming acquainted a little with the
school, and having completed their more important arrangements, they
shall find it easier to begin. But this is a great mistake. The longer
the duty is postponed, the more difficult and trying it will be. And
then the moral impressions will be altogether more strong and salutary
if an act of solemn religious worship is made the first opening act of
the school.

Where the teacher has not sufficient confidence that the general sense
of propriety among his pupils will preserve good order and decorum
during the exercise, it may be better for him to _read_ a prayer
selected from books of devotion, or prepared by himself expressly for
the occasion. By this plan his school will be, during the exercise,
under his own observation, as at other times. It may, in some schools
where the number is small, or the prevailing habits of seriousness and
order are good, be well to allow the older scholars to read the prayer
in rotation, taking especial care that it does not degenerate into a
mere reading exercise, but that it is understood, both by readers and
hearers, to be a solemn act of religious worship. In a word, if the
teacher is really honest and sincere in his wish to lead his pupils to
the worship of God, he will find no serious difficulty in preventing the
abuses and avoiding the dangers which some might fear, and in
accomplishing vast good, both in promoting the prosperity of the school,
and in the formation of the highest and best traits of individual
character.

We have dwelt, perhaps, longer on this subject than we ought to have
done in this place; but its importance, when viewed in its bearings on
the thousands of children daily assembling in our district schools must
be our apology. The embarrassments and difficulties arising from the
extreme sensitiveness which exists among the various denominations of
Christians in our land, threaten to interfere very seriously with giving
a proper degree of religious instruction to the mass of the youthful
population. But we must not, because we have no national _church_,
cease to have a national _religion_. All our institutions ought to be so
administered as openly to recognize the hand of God, and to seek his
protection and blessing; and in regard to none is it more imperiously
necessary than in respect to our common schools.

5. After the school is thus opened, the teacher will find himself
brought to the great difficulty which embarrasses the beginning of his
labors, namely, that of finding immediate employment at once for the
thirty or forty children who all look up to him waiting for their
orders. I say thirty or forty, for the young teachers first school will
usually be a small one. His object should be, in all ordinary cases, for
the first few days, twofold: first, to revive and restore, in the main,
the general routine of classes and exercises pursued by his predecessor
in the same school; and, secondly, while doing this, to become as fully
acquainted with his scholars as possible.

It is best, then, _ordinarily_, for the teacher to begin the school as
his predecessor closed it, and make the transition to his own perhaps
more improved method a gradual one. In some cases a different course is
wise undoubtedly, as, for example, where a teacher is commencing a
private school, on a previously well-digested plan of his own, or where
one who has had experience, and has confidence in his power to bring his
new pupils promptly and at once into the system of classification and
instruction which he prefers. It is difficult, however, to do this, and
requires a good deal of address and decision. It is far easier and
safer, and in almost all cases better, in every respect, for a young
teacher to revive and restore the former arrangements in the main, and
take his departure from them. He may afterward make changes, as he may
find them necessary or desirable, and even bring the school soon into a
very different state from that in which he finds it; but it will
generally be more pleasant for himself, and better for the school, to
avoid the shock of a sudden and entire revolution.

The first thing, then, when the scholars are ready to be employed, is
to set them at work in classes or upon lessons, as they would have been
employed had the former teacher continued in charge of the school. To
illustrate clearly how this may be done, we may give the following
dialogue:

_Teacher_. Can any one of the boys inform me what was the first lesson
that the former master used to hear in the morning?

The boys are silent, looking to one another.

_Teacher_. Did he hear _any_ recitation immediately after school began?

_Boys_ (faintly, and with hesitation). No, sir.

_Teacher_. How long was it before he began to hear lessons?

Several boys simultaneously. "About half an hour." "A little while."
"Quarter of an hour."

"What did he do at this time?"

"Set copies," "Looked over sums," and various other answers are perhaps
given.

The teacher makes a memorandum of this, and then inquires,

"And what lesson came after this?"

"Geography."

"All the boys in this school who studied Geography may rise."

A considerable number rise.

"Did you all recite together?"

"No, sir."

"There are two classes, then?"

"Yes. sir." "Yes, sir." "More than two."

"All who belong to the class that recites first in the morning may
remain standing; the rest may sit."

The boys obey, and eight or ten of them remain standing. The teacher
calls upon one of them to produce his book, and assigns them a lesson in
regular course. He then requests some one of the number to write out, in
the course of the day, a list of the class, and to bring it with him to
the recitation the next morning.

"Are there any other scholars in the school who think it would be well
for them to join this class?"

In answer to this question probably some new scholars might rise, or
some hitherto belonging to other classes, who might be of suitable age
and qualifications to be transferred. If these individuals should appear
to be of the proper standing and character, they might at once be joined
to the class in question, and directed to take the same lesson.

In the same manner, the other classes would pass in review before the
teacher, and he would obtain a memorandum of the usual order of
exercises, and in a short time set all his pupils at work preparing for
the lessons of the next day. He would be much aided in this by the
previous knowledge which he would have obtained by private conversation,
as recommended under a former head. Some individual cases would require
a little special attention, such as new scholars, small children, and
others; but he would be able, before a great while, to look around him
and see his whole school busy with the work he had assigned them, and
his own time, for the rest of the morning, in a great degree at his own
command.

I ought to say, however, that it is not probable that he would long
continue these arrangements unaltered. In hearing the different classes
recite, he would watch for opportunities for combining them, or
discontinuing those where the number was small; he would alter the times
of recitation, and group individual scholars into classes, so as to
bring the school, in a very short time, into a condition corresponding
more nearly with his own views. All this can be done very easily and
pleasantly when the wheels are once in motion; for a school is like a
ship in one respect--most easily steered in the right direction when
under sail.

By this plan, also, the teacher obtains what is almost absolutely
necessary at the commencement of his labors, time for _observation_. It
is of the first importance that he should become acquainted, as early as
possible, with the characters of the boys, especially to learn who those
are which are most likely to be troublesome. There always will be a few
who will require special watch and care, and generally there will be
only a few. A great deal depends on finding these individuals out in
good season, and bringing the pressure of a proper authority to bear
upon them soon. By the plan I have recommended of not attempting to
remodel the school wholly at once, the teacher obtains time for noticing
the pupils, and learning something about their individual characters. In
fact, so important is this, that it is the plan of some teachers,
whenever they commence a new school, to let the boys have their own way,
almost entirely, for a few days, in order to find out fully who the idle
and mischievous are. This is, perhaps, going a little too far; but it is
certainly desirable to enjoy as many opportunities for observation as
can be secured on the first few days of the school.

6. Make it, then, a special object of attention, during the first day or
two, to discover who the idle and mischievous individuals are. They will
have generally seated themselves together in little knots; for, as they
are aware that the new teacher does not know them, they will imagine
that, though perhaps separated before, they can now slip together again
without any trouble. It is best to avoid, if possible, an open collision
with any of them at once, in order that they may be the better observed.
Whenever, therefore, you see idleness or play, endeavor to remedy the
evil for the time by giving the individual something special to do, or
by some other measure, without, however, seeming to notice the
misconduct. Continue thus adroitly to stop every thing disorderly,
while, at the same time, you notice and remember where the tendencies to
disorder exist.

By this means, the individuals who would cause most of the trouble and
difficulty in the discipline of the school will soon betray themselves,
and those whose fidelity and good behavior can be relied upon will also
be known. The names of the former should be among the first that the
teacher learns, and their characters should be among the first which he
studies. The most prominent among them--those apparently most likely to
make trouble--he should note particularly, and make inquiries out of
school respecting them, their characters, and their education at home,
so as to become acquainted with them as early and as fully as possible,
for he must have this full acquaintance with them before he is prepared
to commence any decided course of discipline with them. The teacher
often does irreparable injury by rash action at the outset. He sees, for
instance, a boy secretly eating an apple which he has concealed in his
hand, and which he bites with his book before his mouth, or his head
under the lid of his desk. It is perhaps the first day of the school,
and the teacher thinks he had better make an example at the outset, and
calls the boy out, knowing nothing about his general character, and
inflicts some painful or degrading punishment before all the school. A
little afterward, as he becomes gradually acquainted with the boy, he
finds that he is of mild, gentle disposition, generally obedient and
harmless, and that his offense was only an act of momentary
thoughtlessness, arising from some circumstances of peculiar temptation
at the time; a boy in the next seat, perhaps, had just before given him
the apple. The teacher regrets, when too late, the hasty punishment. He
perceives that instead of having the influence of salutary example upon
the other boys, it must have shocked their sense of justice, and excited
dislike toward a teacher so quick and severe, rather than of fear of
doing wrong themselves. It would be safer to postpone such decided
measures a little--to avoid all open collisions, if possible, for a few
days. In such a case as the above, the boy might be kindly spoken to in
an under tone, in such a way as to show both the teacher's sense of the
impropriety of disorder, and also his desire to avoid giving pain to
the boy. If it then turns out that the individual is ordinarily a
well-disposed boy, all is right, and if he proves to be habitually
disobedient and troublesome, the lenity and forbearance exercised at
first will facilitate the effect aimed at by subsequent measures. Avoid,
then, for the few first days, all open collision with any of your
pupils, that you may have opportunity for minute and thorough
observation.

And here the young teacher ought to be cautioned against a fault which
beginners are very prone to fall into, that of forming unfavorable
opinions of some of their pupils from their air and manner before they
see any thing in their conduct which ought to be disapproved. A boy or
girl comes to the desk to ask a question or make a request, and the
teacher sees in the cast of countenance, or in the bearing or tone of
the individual, something indicating a proud, or a sullen, or an
ill-humored disposition, and conceives a prejudice, often entirely
without foundation, which weeks perhaps do not wear away. Every
experienced teacher can recollect numerous cases of this sort, and he
learns, after a time, to suspend his judgment. Be cautious, therefore,
on this point, and in the survey of your pupils which you make during
the first few days of your school, trust to nothing but the most sure
and unequivocal evidences of character, for many of your most docile and
faithful pupils will be found among those whose appearance at first
prepossessed you strongly against them.

One other caution ought also to be given. Do not judge too severely in
respect to the ordinary cases of misconduct in school. The young teacher
almost invariably does judge too severely. While engaged himself in
hearing a recitation, or looking over a "sum," he hears a stifled laugh,
and, looking up, sees the little offender struggling with the muscles of
his countenance to restore their gravity. The teacher is vexed at the
interruption, and severely rebukes or punishes the boy, when, after
all, the offense, in a moral point of view, was an exceedingly light
one--at least it might very probably have been so. In fact, a large
proportion of the offenses against order committed in school are the
mere momentary action of the natural buoyancy and life of childhood.
This is no reason why they should be indulged, or why the order and
regularity of the school should be sacrificed, but it should prevent
their exciting feelings of anger or impatience, or very severe
reprehension. While the teacher should take effectual measures for
restraining all such irregularities, he should do it with the tone and
manner which will show that he understands their true moral character,
and deals with them, not as heinous sins, which deserve severe
punishment, but as serious inconveniences, which he is compelled to
repress.

There are often cases of real moral turpitude in school, such as where
there is intentional, willful mischief, or disturbance, or habitual
disobedience, and there may even be, in some cases, open rebellion. Now
the teacher should show that he distinguishes these cases from such
momentary acts of thoughtlessness as we have described, and a broad
distinction ought to be made in the treatment of them. In a word, then,
what we have been recommending under this head is, that the teacher
should make it his special study, for his first few days in school, to
acquire a knowledge of the characters of his pupils, to learn who are
the thoughtless ones, who the mischievous, and who the disobedient and
rebellious, and to do this with candid, moral discrimination, and with
as little open collision with individuals as possible.

7. Another point to which the teacher ought to give his early attention
is to separate the bad boys as soon as he can from one another. The
idleness and irregularity of children in school often depends more on
accidental circumstances than on character. Two boys may be individually
harmless and well-disposed, and yet they may be of so mercurial a
temperament that, together, the temptation to continual play will be
irresistible. Another case that more often happens is where one is
actively and even intentionally bad, and is seated next to an innocent,
but perhaps thoughtless boy, and contrives to keep him always in
difficulty. Now remove the former away, where there are no very frail
materials for him to act upon, and place the latter where he is exposed
to no special temptation, and all would be well.

This is all very obvious, and known familiarly to all teachers who have
had any experience. But beginners are not generally so aware of it at
the outset as to make any direct and systematic efforts to examine the
school with reference to its condition in this respect. It is usual to
go on, leaving the boys to remain seated as chance or their own
inclinations grouped them, and to endeavor to keep the peace among the
various neighborhoods by close supervision, rebukes, and punishment. Now
these difficulties may be very much diminished by looking a little into
the arrangement of the boys at the outset, and so modifying it as to
diminish the amount of temptation to which the individuals are exposed.

This should be done, however, cautiously, deliberately, and with
good-nature, keeping the object of it a good deal out of view. It must
be done cautiously and deliberately, for the first appearances are
exceedingly fallacious in respect to the characters of the different
children. You see, perhaps, some indications of play between two boys
upon the same seat, and hastily conclude that they are disorderly boys,
and must be separated. Something in the air and manner of one or both of
them confirms this impression, and you take the necessary measures at
once. You then find, when you become more fully acquainted with them,
that the appearances which you observed were only momentary and
accidental, and that they would have been as safe together as any two
boys in the school. And perhaps you will even find that, by their new
position, you have brought one or the other into circumstances of
peculiar temptation. Wait, therefore, before you make such changes,
till you have ascertained _actual character_, doing this, however,
without any unnecessary delay.

In such removals, too, it is well, in many cases, to keep the motive and
design of them as much as possible out of view; for by expressing
suspicion of a boy, you injure his character in his own opinion and in
that of others, and tend to make him reckless. Besides, if you remove a
boy from a companion whom he likes, avowedly to prevent his playing, you
offer him an inducement, if he is a bad boy, to continue to play in his
new position for the purpose of thwarting you, or from the influence of
resentment. It would be wrong, indeed, to use any subterfuge or
duplicity of any kind to conceal your object, but you are not bound to
explain it; and in the many changes which you will be compelled to make
in the course of the first week for various purposes, you may include
many of these without explaining particularly the design or intention of
any of them.

In some instances, however, you may frankly state the whole case without
danger, provided it is done in such a manner as not to make the boy feel
that his character is seriously injured in your estimation. It must
depend upon the tact and judgment of the teacher to determine upon the
particular course to be pursued in the several cases, though he ought to
keep these general principles in view in all.

In one instance, for example, he will see two boys together, James and
Joseph we will call them, exhibiting a tendency to play, and after
inquiring into their characters, he will find that they are
good-natured, pleasant boys, and that he had better be frank with them
on the subject. He calls one of them to his desk, and perhaps the
following dialogue ensues:

"James, I am making some changes in the seats, and thought of removing
you to another place. Have you any particular preference for that seat?"

The question is unexpected, and James hesitates. He wishes to sit next
to Joseph, but doubts whether it is quite prudent to avow it; so he
says, slowly and with hesitation,

"No, sir, I do not know that I have."

"If you have any reason, I wish you would tell me frankly, for I want
you to have such a seat as will be pleasant to you."

James does not know what to say. Encouraged, however, by the
good-humored tone and look which the master assumes, he says, timidly,

"Joseph and I thought we should like to sit together, if you are
willing."

"Oh! you and Joseph are particular friends, then, I suppose?"

"Why, yes, sir."

"I am not surprised, then, that you want to sit together, though, to
tell the truth, that is rather a reason why I should separate you."

"Why, sir?"

"Because I have observed that when two great friends are seated
together, they are always more apt to whisper and play. Have you not
observed it?"

"Why, yes, sir."

"You may go and ask Joseph to come here."

When the two boys make their appearance again, the teacher continues:

"Joseph, James tells me that you and he would like to sit together, and
says you are particular friends; but I tell him," he adds, smiling,
"that that is rather a reason for separating you. Now if I should put
you both into different parts of the school, next to boys that you are
not acquainted with, it would be a great deal easier for you to be still
and studious than it is now. Do you not think so yourselves?"

The boys look at one another and smile.

"However, there is one way you can do. You can guard against the extra
temptation by extra care; and, on the whole, as I believe you are pretty
good boys, I will let you have your choice. You may stay as you are,
and make extra exertion to be perfectly regular and studious, or I will
find seats for you where it will be a great deal easier for you to be
so. Which do you think you should rather do?"

The boys hesitate, look at one another, and presently say that they had
rather sit together.

"Well," said the teacher, "it is immaterial to me whether you sit
together or apart, if you are only good boys, so you may take your seats
and try it a little while. If you find it too hard work to be studious
and orderly together, I can make a change hereafter. I shall soon see."

Such a conversation will have many good effects. It will make the boys
expect to be watched, without causing them to feel that their characters
have suffered. It will stimulate them to greater exertion to avoid all
misconduct, and it will prepare the way for separating them afterward
without awakening feelings of resentment, if the experiment of their
sitting together should fail.

Another case would be managed, perhaps, in a little different way, where
the tendency to play was more decided. After speaking to the individuals
mildly two or three times, you see them again at play. You ask them to
wait that day after school and come to your desk.

They have, then, the rest of the day to think occasionally of the
difficulty they have brought themselves into, and the anxiety and
suspense which they will naturally feel will give you every advantage
for speaking to them with effect; and if you should be engaged a few
minutes with some other business after school, so that they should have
to stand a little while in silent expectation, waiting for their turn,
it would contribute to the permanence of the effect.

"Well, boys," at length you say, with a serious but frank tone of voice,
"I saw you playing in a disorderly manner to-day, and, in the first
place, I wish you to tell me honestly all about it. I am not going to
punish you, but I wish you to be open and honest about it. What were you
doing?"

The boys hesitate.

"George, what did you have in your hand?"

"A piece of paper."

"And what were you doing with it?"

_George_. William was trying to take it away from me.

"Was there any thing on it?"

"Yes, sir."

"What?"

George looks down, a little confused.

_William_. George had been drawing some pictures on it.

"I see each of you is ready to tell of the other's fault, but it would
be much more honorable if each was open in acknowledging his own. Have I
ever had to speak to you before for playing together in school?"

"Yes, sir, I believe you have," says one, looking down.

"More than once?"

"Yes, sir."

"More than twice?"

"I do not recollect exactly; I believe you have."

"Well, now, what do you think I ought to do next?"

The boys have nothing to say.

"Do you prefer sitting together, or are you willing to have me separate
you?"

"We should rather sit together, sir, if you are willing," says George.

"I have no objection to your sitting together, if you could only resist
the temptation to play. I want all the boys in the school to have
pleasant seats."

There is a pause, the teacher hesitating what to do.

"Suppose, now, I were to make one more experiment, and let you try to be
good boys in your present seat, would you really try?"

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir, we will," are the replies.

"And if I should find that you still continue to play, and should have
to separate you, will you move into your new seats pleasantly, and with
good-humor, feeling that I have done right about if?"

"Yes, sir, we will."

Thus it will be seen that there may be cases where the teacher may make
arrangements for separating his scholars, on an open and distinct
understanding with them in respect to the cause of it. We have given
these cases, not that exactly such ones will be very likely to occur, or
that, when they do, the teacher is to manage them in exactly the way
here described, but to exhibit more clearly to the reader than could be
done by any general description, the spirit and tone which a teacher
ought to assume toward his pupils. We wished to exhibit this in contrast
with the harsh and impatient manner which teachers too often assume in
such a case, as follows:

"John Williams and Samuel Smith, come here to me!" exclaims the master,
in a harsh, impatient tone, in the midst of the exercises of the
afternoon.

The scholars all look up from their work. The culprits slowly rise from
their seats, and with a sullen air come down to the floor.

"You are playing, boys, all the time, and I will not have it. John, do
you take your books, and go and sit out there by the window; and,
Samuel, you come and sit here on this front seat; and if I catch you
playing again, I shall certainly punish you severely."

The boys make the move with as much rattling and distention to make a
noise; and when they get their new seats, and the teacher is again
engaged upon his work, they exchange winks and nods, and in ten minutes
are slyly cannonading each other with paper balls.

In regard to all the directions that have been given under this head, I
ought to say again, before concluding it, that they are mainly
applicable to the case of beginners and of small schools. The general
principles are, it is true, of universal application, but it is only
where a school is of moderate size that the details of position, in
respect to individual scholars, can be minutely studied. More summary
processes are necessary, I am aware, when the school is very large, and
the time of the teacher is incessantly engaged.

8. In some districts in New England the young teacher will find one or
more boys, generally among the larger ones, who will come to the school
with the express determination to make a difficulty if they can. The
best way is generally to face these individuals at once in the most
direct and open manner, and, at the same time, with perfect good-humor
and kindness of feeling and deportment toward them personally. An
example or two will best illustrate what I mean.

A teacher heard a rapping noise repeatedly one day, just after he had
commenced his labors, under such circumstances as to lead him to suppose
it was designed. He did not appear to notice it, but remained after
school until the scholars had all gone, and then made a thorough
examination. He found, at length, a broken place in the plastering,
where a _lath_ was loose, and a string was tied to the end of it, and
thence carried along the wall, under the benches, to the seat of a
mischievous boy, and fastened to a nail. By pulling the string he could
spring the lath, and then let it snap back to its place. He left every
thing as it was, and the next day, while engaged in a lesson, he heard
the noise again.

He rose from his seat.

The scholars all looked up from their books.

"Did you hear that noise?" said he.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No, sir."

"Very well; I only wished to call your attention to it. I may perhaps
speak of it again by-and-by."

He then resumed his exercise as if nothing had happened. The guilty boy
was agitated and confused, and was utterly at a loss to know what to do.
What could the teacher mean? Had he discovered the trick? and, if so,
what was he going to do?

He grew more and more uneasy, and resolved that, at all events, it was
best for him to retreat. Accordingly, at the next recess, as the teacher
had anticipated, he went slyly to the lath, cut the string, then
returned to his seat, and drew the line in, rolled it up, and put it in
his pocket. The teacher, who was secretly watching him, observed the
whole manoeuvre.

At the close of the school, when the books were laid aside, and all was
silence, he treated the affair thus:

"Do you remember the noise to which I called your attention early this
afternoon"?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will explain it to you now. One of the boys tied a string to a loose
lath in the side of the room, and then, having the end of it at his
seat, he was pulling it to make a noise to disturb us."

The scholars all looked astonished, and then began to turn round toward
one another to see who the offender could be. The culprit began to
tremble.

"He did it several times yesterday, and would have gone on doing it had
I not spoken about it to-day. Do you think this was wrong or not?"

"Yes, sir;" "Wrong;" "Wrong," are the replies.

"What harm does it do?"

"It interrupts the school."

"Yes. Is there any other harm?"

The boys hesitate.

"It gives me trouble and pain. Should you not suppose it would?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have I ever treated any boy or girl in this school unjustly or
unkindly?"

"No, sir;" "No, sir."

"Then why should any boy or girl wish to give me trouble or pain?"

There was a pause. The guilty individual expected that the next thing
would be to call him out for punishment.

"Now what do you think I ought to do with such a boy?"

No answer.

"Perhaps I ought to punish him, but I am very unwilling to do that. I
concluded to try another plan--to treat him with kindness and
forbearance. So I called your attention to it this afternoon, to let him
know that I was observing it, and to give him an opportunity to remove
the string. And he did. He went, in the recess, and cut off the string.
I shall not tell you his name, for I do not wish to injure his
character. All I want is to have him a good boy."

A pause.

"I think I shall try this plan, for he must have some feelings of honor
and gratitude, and if he has, he certainly will not try to give me pain
or trouble again after this. And now I shall say no more about it, nor
think any more about it; only, to prove that it is all as I say, if you
look there under that window after school, you will see the lath with
the end of the string round it, and, by pulling it, you can make it
snap."

Another case, a little more serious in its character, is the following:

A teacher, having had some trouble with a rude and savage-looking boy,
made some inquiry respecting him out of school, and incidentally learned
that he had once or twice before openly rebelled against the authority
of the school, and that he was now, in the recesses, actually preparing
a club, with which he was threatening to defend himself if the teacher
should attempt to punish him.

The next day, soon after the boys had gone out, he took his hat and
followed them, and, turning round a corner of the school-house, found
the boys standing around the young rebel, who was sitting upon a log,
shaving the handle of the club smooth with his pocket-knife. He was
startled at the unexpected appearance of the teacher, and the first
impulse was to hide his club behind him; but it was too late, and,
supposing that the teacher was ignorant of his designs, he went on
sullenly with his work, feeling, however, greatly embarrassed.

"Pleasant day, boys," said the teacher. "This is a fine sunny nook for
you to talk in.

"Seems to me, however, you ought to have a better seat than this old
log," continued he, taking his seat at the same time by the side of the
boy.

"Not so bad a seat, however, after all. What are you making, Joseph?"

Joseph mumbled out something inarticulate by way of reply. "I have got a
sharper knife," said he, drawing his penknife out of his pocket. And
then, "Let me try it," he continued, gently taking the club out of
Joseph's hand.

The boys looked surprised, some exchanged nods and winks, others turned
away to conceal a laugh; but the teacher engaged in conversation with
them, and soon put them all at their ease except poor Joseph, who could
not tell how this strange interview was likely to end.

In the mean time, the teacher went on shaving the handle smooth and
rounding the ends. "You want," said he, "a rasp or coarse file for the
ends, and then you could finish it finely. But what are you making this
formidable club for?"

Joseph was completely at a loss what to say. He began to show evident
marks of embarrassment and confusion.

"I know what it is for; it is to defend yourself against me with. Is it
not, boys?" said he, appealing to the others.

A faint "Yes, sir" or two was the reply.

"Well, now, Joseph, it will be a great deal better for us both to be
friends than to be enemies. You had better throw this club away, and
save yourself from punishment by being a good boy. Come, now," said he,
handing him back his club, "throw it over into the field as far as you
can, and we will all forget that you ever made it."

Joseph sat the picture of shame and confusion. Better feelings were
struggling for admission, and the case was decided by a broad-faced,
good-natured-looking boy, who stood by his side, saying almost
involuntarily,

"Better throw it, Joe."

The club flew, end over end, into the field. Joseph returned to his
allegiance, and never attempted to rise in rebellion again.

The ways by which boys engage in open, intentional disobedience are, of
course, greatly varied, and the exact treatment will depend upon the
features of the individual case; but the frankness, the openness, the
plain dealing, and the kind and friendly tone which it is the object of
the foregoing illustrations to exhibit, should characterize all.

9. We have already alluded to the importance of a delicate regard for
the _characters_ of the boys in all the measures of discipline adopted
at the commencement of a school. This is, in fact, of the highest
importance at all times, and is peculiarly so at the outset. A wound to
the feelings is sometimes inflicted by a single transaction which
produces a lasting injury to the character. Children are very sensitive
to ridicule or disgrace, and some are most acutely so. A cutting reproof
administered in public, or a punishment which exposes the individual to
the gaze of others, will often burn far more deeply into the heart than
the teacher imagines.

And it is often the cause of great and lasting injury, too. By
destroying the character of a pupil, you make him feel that he has
nothing more to lose or gain, and destroy that kind of interest in his
own moral condition which alone will allure him to virtuous conduct. To
expose children to public ridicule or contempt tends either to make them
sullen and despondent, or else to arouse their resentment and to make
them reckless and desperate. Most persons remember through life some
instances in their early childhood in which they were disgraced or
ridiculed at school, and the permanence of the recollection is a test of
the violence of the effect.

Be very careful, then, to avoid, especially at the commencement of the
school, publicly exposing those who do wrong. Sometimes you may make the
offense public, as in the case of the snapping of the lath, described
under a former head, while you kindly conceal the name of the offender.
Even if the school generally understand who he is, the injury of public
exposure is almost altogether avoided, for the sense of disgrace does
not come nearly so vividly home to the mind of a child from hearing
occasional allusions to his offense by individuals among his playmates,
as when he feels himself, at a particular time, the object of universal
attention and dishonor. And then, besides, if the pupil perceives that
the teacher is tender of his reputation, he will, by a feeling somewhere
between imitation and sympathy, begin to feel a little tender of it too.
Every exertion should be made, therefore, to lead children to value
their character, and to help them to preserve it, and especially to
avoid, at the beginning, every unnecessary sacrifice of it.

And yet there are cases where shame is the very best possible remedy for
juvenile faults. If a boy, for example, is self-conceited, bold, and
mischievous, with feelings somewhat callous, and an influence extensive
and bad, an opportunity will sometimes occur to hold up his conduct to
the just reprobation of the school with great advantage. By this means,
if it is done in such a way as to _secure_ the influence of the school
on the right side, many good effects are sometimes attained. His pride
and self-conceit are humbled, his bad influence receives a very decided
check, and he is forced to draw back at once from the prominent stand he
has occupied.

Richard Jones, for example, is a rude, coarse, self-conceited boy, often
doing wrong both in school and out, and yet possessed of that peculiar
influence which a bad boy often contrives to exert in school. The
teacher, after watching some time for an opportunity to humble him, one
day overhears a difficulty among the boys, and, looking out of the
window, observes that he is taking away a sled from one of the little
boys to slide down hill upon, having none of his own. The little boy
resists as well as he can, and complains bitterly, but it is of no
avail.

At the close of the school that day, the teacher commences conversation
on the subject as follows:

"Boys, do you know what the difference is between stealing and robbery?"

"Yes, sir."

"What!"

The boys hesitate, and look at one another.

"Suppose a thief were to go into a man's store in the daytime, and take
away something secretly, would it be stealing or robbery?"

"Stealing."

"Suppose he should meet him in the road, and take it away by force?"

"Then it would be robbery."

"Yes; when that which belongs to another is taken secretly, it is called
stealing; when it is taken openly or with violence, it is called
robbery. Which, now, do you think is the worst?"

"Robbery."

"Yes, for it is more barefaced and determined--then it gives a great
deal more pain to the one who is injured. To-day I saw one of the boys
in this school taking away another boy's sled, openly and with
violence."

The boys all look round toward Richard.

"Was that of the nature of stealing or robbery?

"Robbery," say the boys.

"Was it real robbery?"

They hesitate.

"If any of you think of any reason why it was not real robbery, you may
name it."

"He gave the sled back to him," says one of the boys.

"Yes; and therefore, to describe the action correctly, we should not say
Richard robbed a boy of his sled, but that he robbed him of his sled
_for a time_, or he robbed him of the _use_ of his sled. Still, in
respect to the nature and the guilt of it, it was robbery.

"There is another thing which ought to be observed about it. Whose sled
was it that Richard took away?"

"James Thompson's."

"James, you may stand up.

"Notice his size, boys. I should like to have Richard Jones stand up
too, so that you might compare them; but I presume he feels very much
ashamed of what he has done, and it would be very unpleasant for him to
stand up. You will remember, however, how large he is. Now when I was a
boy, it used to be considered dishonorable and cowardly for a large,
strong boy to abuse a little one who can not defend himself. Is it
considered so now?"

"Yes, sir."

"It ought to be, certainly; though, were it not for such a case as this,
we should not have thought of considering Richard Jones a coward. It
seems he did not dare to try to take away a sled from a boy who was as
big as himself, but attacked little James, for he knew he was not strong
enough to defend himself."

Now, in some such cases as this, great good may be done, both in
respect to the individual and to the state of public sentiment in
school, by openly exposing a boy's misconduct. The teacher must always
take care, however, that the state of mind and character in the guilty
individual is such that public exposure is adapted to work well as a
remedy, and also that, in managing it, he carries the sympathies of the
other boys with him. To secure this, he must avoid all harsh and
exaggerated expressions or direct reproaches, and while he is mild, and
gentle, and forbearing himself, lead the boys to understand and feel the
nature of the sin which he exposes. The opportunities for doing this to
advantage will, however, be rare. Generally it will be best to manage
cases of discipline more privately, so as to protect the characters of
those that offend.

The teacher should thus, in accordance with the directions we have
given, commence his labors with careful circumspection, patience,
frankness, and honest good-will toward every individual of his charge.
He will find less difficulty at the outset than he would have expected,
and soon have the satisfaction of perceiving that a mild but most
efficient government is quietly and firmly established in the little
kingdom over which he is called to reign.

THE END.













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