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.