TEACHING THE MECHANICS OF HOUSEKEEPING
Going to school marks an epoch in every child's life. Hitherto,
however wide or narrow the child's contact with the world has been,
the mother has been, at least nominally and in most cases actually,
the controlling power. Now she gives her child over for an
increasingly large part of every day to outside influence.
More and more we are coming to see that the evolution of a successful
homemaker requires that the school as well as the home keep the
homemaking ideal before it. And so the best schools of the country are
doing. The greatest needs of the little girl's early school days would
seem to be a definite understanding between teacher and mother of the
share each should assume in the homemaking training. This necessitates
personal conferences or mothers' meetings, or both.
The little girl of primary-school age points the way for both teacher
and mother by her adaptation and imitation of home activities in her
play. In primary grades girls are approaching the height of the doll
interest, which Hall and others place at eight or nine years. A doll's
house, therefore, may be made the source of almost infinite enjoyment
and profit in these grades. Indeed it is hardly too much to say that
no primary room is complete without one. Nor is there any reason why
any school should remain without one, since its making is the simplest
of processes. Four wooden boxes, of the same size, obtained probably
from the grocer, the dry-goods merchant, or the local shoe dealer,
will make a most satisfactory house if placed in two tiers of two
each, with the open sides toward the front. This gives four rooms,
which may be furnished as kitchen, dining room, living room, and
bedroom. Windows may be cut in the ends or back, if the boys of the
school are sufficiently expert with tools or if outside assistance can
be secured for an hour or so.
The best results with the doll's house are obtained if the children
are allowed to furnish it themselves, with the teacher's advice and
help, rather than to find it completely equipped and therefore merely
a "plaything" of the sort that children have less use for because they
can do little with it. An empty house presents exciting possibilities,
and perhaps for the first time these little girls look with seeing
eyes at the home furnishings, for they have wall paper to select,
curtains and rugs to make, and indeed no end of things to do.
[Illustration: The little girl adapts and imitates home activities in
play]
It is perhaps scarcely necessary to call to mind the educational
advantages possible in the planning and making of bedding, draperies,
table linen, towels, couches and pillows, window seats, and other
furnishings, as well as in the ingenuity brought into play in evolving
kitchen utensils and in stocking the cupboards with the necessities
for housekeeping. The free interchange of ideas should be encouraged,
and the spirit of seeking the best fostered.
The conspicuous results in this work are two: we secure the child's
attention to details of housekeeping, and we build up a foundation
ideal of what housekeeping equipment should be. Children in poorly
equipped homes may find the most practical of training in this way. My
experience has been that teachers have only to begin this work in
order to arouse enthusiasm in any class of little girls. Once begun,
it carries itself along. There should be no compulsion in this work.
Choice and not necessity must be the rule in all our training for
homemaking. To compel a child's attention to that which she will later
do voluntarily, if at all, will at the very outset defeat our purpose.
[Illustration: Making furniture for a doll's house affords
educational advantages in emphasizing the details of housekeeping]
The finest sort of coöperation arises in this work when parents are
led to provide the little girl at home with a doll's house fashioned
like the one at school. Perhaps they may go a step farther and find
space for a larger scheme of housekeeping, in the attic or elsewhere.
Coöperation among the children means interchange of ideas, materials,
and labor, most helpful to social ideals.
From the furnishing of the doll's house it is easy to pass to plays
involving the activities of home life. Children delight in sweeping,
dusting, washing dishes, arranging cupboards and pantries, and making
beds in their miniature houses, and if their efforts are wisely
directed, orderly habits easily begin to form. In all these varieties
of work the children must be led to feel that there is a right way,
and that only that way is good enough, even for play.
The great result of all play housekeeping is the formation of ideals.
It is just as easy to learn at seven or eight the most efficient way
of washing dishes as it is to defer that knowledge until years of
inefficient work harden into inefficient habits. The teacher will find
abundant and interesting studies in household efficiency in recently
published books to inspire her guidance of the children's activity.
The step from washing play dishes at school to washing real dishes at
home is easily taken, and children are delighted to take it. Here
again the school and home may--indeed must, for best results--work
together. Some schools are giving school credit for home work along
domestic lines. That there are complex elements entering into the
successful working out of such a plan one must admit. A school giving
credit for work it does not see may put a premium upon quantity rather
than quality. The teacher who asks her little pupils to wash the home
dishes according to school methods may encounter adverse comment from
certain parents who are quick to resent outside "management."
Nevertheless, home practice in accordance with school theory is the
ideal of any coöperative education in the mechanics of housekeeping;
therefore some scheme must be worked out whereby the girls will
practice at home, and, having learned to do by doing, will continue to
do in the families where their doing will be a help.
Let us consider for a moment the present condition of the
school-credit-for-home-work idea. Schemes are being worked out in
various places, under one or the other of the following plans.
_Plan I_ (often known as the Massachusetts plan). Each pupil, with the
advice of his teacher and the consent of his parents, selects some one
definite piece of work to do at home regularly, under direction of the
school and with some study at school of the practical problems
involved. School credit depends upon approval by the teacher on the
occasion of a visit of inspection to the home.
_Plan II_ (sometimes called the Oregon plan). This is more directly
concerned with the cultivation of a helpful spirit than with perfect
technique or broad knowledge. No attempt is made to correlate home and
school work. Credit is given merely for the fact that the dishes were
washed, the table set, or the baby bathed, the fact being properly
certified by the parent. Whether the work was acceptably done or not
rests entirely with the parent. In the carrying out of the latter plan
blanks are usually issued to be filled out and handed in once a week
or once a month. Each task carries a certain value in school credit.
That either of these plans possesses certain weaknesses doubtless even
their makers would admit. But they are at least opening wedges. A plan
might be worked out whereby little girls are taught one household task
at a time, through their play housekeeping, after which credit may be
given for satisfactory performance of the task at home. Later another
household duty may be taught, and put into practice, with credit, at
home, thus building up a body of known duties for which the little
house-helper has been duly trained. For its highest efficiency such a
plan would require more than consent on the part of mothers. Its
success would depend upon coöperative leadership and its value upon
the acceptance, for school credit, of only that work done in
conformity with school ideals.
But at all events, whether school credit be given or not, the stimulus
of interest in home tasks may be given strength by the teacher's wise
suggestion, and thoughtful consideration of the matter in teachers'
and mothers' meetings will insure coöperation of the most helpful
sort. The tactful teacher will find ways to suggest to mothers that
children be held up at home to the ideals of efficiency she has been
at pains to put before them at school.
The suggestion has been recently made by several thoughtful educators
that the noon hour, in schools where children do not go home for
dinner, be made use of for the simplest of cooking lessons. The
children who at seven are quite content to play house soon pass into
the stage where they wish to see results from their work. They want to
"make things," real things, that they or some one can use. Children of
nine or ten can learn to cook cereals and eggs in various ways, to
make cocoa, and to prepare other simple dishes. Their pride and
delight in these accomplishments are intense. These activities are
equally suited to the small rural school and to the consolidated
schools which are happily taking the place of the one-room buildings.
In both, the teacher may find the lunch hour a real educational force
if it is used aright. If the teacher allows and guides these efforts
in the schoolroom, she must keep in mind her "ideal of efficiency."
Accurate measurements, logical processes, elimination of awkward and
unnecessary movements, care in following directions, neatness, and
precision are the real lessons to be learned.
[Illustration: Photograph by Brown Bros.
A school garden. The possibilities for good through school-garden
work are numberless]
School gardens are perhaps already too familiar to require more than a
word. Their possibilities for good are numberless. In them many
children get their first insight into the joys of making things grow
and are led by this joy to undertake the care of a home garden and to
beautify the home surroundings as they had never thought of doing
before. School-garden work leads to beautifying the school grounds,
with resulting pride and interest in the school.
Accompanying the activities we have suggested, teachers will find a
wide field in attractive stories of helpful coöperative home life.
Extracts from many of Miss Alcott's stories, the Cratchits' Christmas
dinner from Dickens' _Christmas Carol_, and many other delightful
glimpses of home life can be read, or, better, dramatized, with little
effort and with good results.
It may seem that the homemaking training here suggested for younger
children is too desultory, too slight, in fact, to affect the
situation much. But let us consider. Homemaking is an art, coming more
and more to be based on a foundation of science. For it is undoubtedly
true that, while the pessimists are telling us that the home is
doomed, we who are optimists see coming toward us a great wave of
homemaking knowledge which if seized upon will put the homemaker's art
upon a surer foundation than it has ever been.
The elements of housekeeping are the _ABC_ of homemaking. We shall do
well to teach them early, incidentally, and with no undue exaggeration
of their place in the scheme of living. We simply familiarize the
girl, by long and quiet contact, with the tools of the homemaker, for
future scientific use, just as we teach the multiplication facts for
later use in the science of mathematics.
A definite list of the simple homemaking tasks suitable for little
girls to undertake may not be out of place here:
1. Setting the table. (A card list of table necessities is
useful. Such a list may be given each little girl when she
undertakes home practice work.)
2. Clearing the table.
3. Washing the dishes.
4. Sweeping the kitchen. Sweeping the piazza.
5. Dusting.
6. Making beds and caring for bedrooms.
7. Arranging her own bureau drawers and closets.
8. Simple cooking.
9. Hemming towels and table linen.
10. Ironing handkerchiefs and napkins.
As the child grows older, methods of teaching grow increasingly
direct. Even here we shall perhaps not talk a great deal about
"preparing for homemaking." But we shall see that the tools grow
increasingly familiar, and that ideals once taught are retained and
added to. We shall see that our science, our mathematics, our art, all
contribute to the acquirement of homemaking knowledge. We shall give a
practical turn to these more or less abstract subjects.
Sewing and cooking classes are by this time a recognized part of
grammar-school courses in many city schools. That they are not so
firmly intrenched in the country schools is due usually to
difficulties in the way of securing equipment and to the already
crowded condition of the school program. The ideal remedy is the
substitution of the consolidated school with its domestic science room
and its specially trained teacher for the scattered one-room
buildings. Wherever the consolidated school has come, it has been
enthusiastically received and supported. No one wishes to go back to
the old way. But in many localities the consolidated school has not
come and cannot be immediately looked for; and in these places the
need of the homemaking work is just as great. The teacher must find
the way to give these girls what they need. If no other way presents
itself, the teacher will do well to ask the help of the mothers of the
neighborhood. Perhaps one who is an expert needlewoman will give an
hour or two a week in the school or at her own home to carrying out
the sewing course which the teacher cannot crowd into her own already
overcrowded program. Perhaps another will do the same for the cooking,
making her own kitchen for one afternoon a week an annex of the
school. It is important, however, when such arrangements are made that
they be recognized as school work, and if possible the courses
followed should be planned and supervised by the regular teacher of
the school. Thus only can they be held to standardized accomplishment.
The inadequacy of the "one-portion" method of teaching girls to cook
has aroused serious thought, and remedies of various sorts have been
applied. You know, perhaps, the story of the Chicago cooking-school
student who "had to make seven omelets in succession at home last
night" because one egg would not make enough omelet for the family.
The first remedy tried was cooking for the school lunch room. This
was, however, usually going from one extreme to the other, since the
lunch room is as a rule maintained only in large schools.
"Institutional cooking," some one calls it. Instead of one
egg-cooking, it became one-hundred-egg cooking, and the difficulty of
the average student in adapting school methods to family use was not
by any means at an end.
The Central High School of Newark, New Jersey, has solved its problem
by putting its girls to work, not at the task of providing the
sandwiches, soups, and other luncheon dishes for its large lunch room,
but at providing "family dinners" at twenty-five cents a plate for the
faculty of the school. Other schools follow similar plans.
The grammar-school girls of Leominster, Massachusetts, serve luncheon
to a limited number every day at their domestic science house. Here
the girls do the marketing, cook and serve the meal, and keep the
various rooms of the house in order. In Montclair, New Jersey, work of
this same sort is done. In each of these cases the cooking is done as
it would have to be in the home, not for one person, nor for hundreds,
but for approximately a family-sized group.
Sewing courses also grow more and more practical. In some schools the
girls make their own graduating dresses as a final test of their
ability. Courses are definite, and girls completing them will have
definite knowledge of everyday processes of hand sewing. The schools
which add to their hand-sewing courses well-planned practice in the
use of the sewing machine are further adding to the accomplishment of
their girls. Those which go farther still and teach garment planning
and making may consider their sewing courses fairly complete.
[Illustration: Teachers' luncheon cooked and served by pupils at the
Clinton Kelly School, Portland, Oregon. Other schools have adopted
similar plans for teaching girls how to cook]
The formation of ideals must go hand in hand with practice in manual
processes. The girl must learn to know good work when she sees it, to
know a properly constructed garment from one carelessly put together,
and to value good work and construction.
Time was when domestic science meant sewing and cooking, and these
alone. That time, however, is past. The care of a house is
practically taught in many schools throughout the country by the
maintenance of a model apartment in or near the school building. In
Public School No. 7, New York City, grammar-school girls, many of whom
are of foreign parentage and tradition, are thus introduced to the
American ideal of living. The school is thus establishing standards of
equipment, of food, of service, of comfortable living, that tend to
Americanize quite as much as the establishment of standards of speech,
of business methods, or of civic duties. The work done in this school
is typical of that prevailing in hundreds of towns and cities.
[Illustration: A girls' sewing class. Work in sewing offers unlimited
possibilities]
The question arises: How much of her housekeeping training should a
girl receive before entering upon her high-school course? After
careful consideration it seems wise to urge that the greater part of
the practical household work be taught during the period from eleven
to fourteen. This does not imply that homemaking training should
cease at fourteen, but rather that after that age attention shall be
centered upon the more difficult aspects of the subject--upon
"household economics" rather than the skillful doing of household
tasks.
In view, however, of the fact that the majority of girls never reach
the high school, every bit of household science which they can grasp
should be given them in the elementary school. Knowing how to do is
only part of the housekeeper's work. Knowing what and when to do is
quite as important. Elementary study of food values is quite as
comprehensible as elementary algebra. Home sanitation and decoration
are no harder to understand than commercial geography. The principles
of infant feeding and care may be grasped by any girl who can
successfully study civil government or grammar.
Shall we then crowd out commercial geography or government or grammar
to make room for these homemaking studies? Not necessarily, although,
if it came to a choice, much might be said for the practical studies
in learning to live. Fortunately it need not come to a choice. There
is room for both. We must, however, learn to adapt existing courses to
the requirements of girls.
[Illustration: Courtesy of L.A. Alderman
A model school home where all the practical details of housekeeping
are taught]
[Illustration: A domestic science class at work in the model school
home shown above]
There is arithmetic, for instance. Most of us have already learned to
skip judiciously the pages in the textbook which deal with compound
proportion, averaging payments, partial payments, and cube root. Now
we must learn to insert the keeping of household accounts; the study
of apportioning incomes; the scientific spending of a dollar in food
or clothing value; the relative advantage of cash or credit systems of
paying the running expenses of a home; the dangers of the
"easy-payment plan"; the cost of running an automobile; comparison
with the upkeep of a horse and wagon; comparison of the two from the
point of view of their usefulness to a family; mortgaging homes, what
it means, and what it costs to borrow; when borrowing is justified;
the accumulation of interest in a savings account; the comparative
financial advantage of renting and owning a home; the cost of building
houses of various sorts; the cost of securing, under varying
conditions, a water supply in the country home; and other locally
important problems. We already have "applied science" in our courses,
and we are making a strenuous effort to apply arithmetic; but we have
not usually tried to apply it to the education of the prospective
homemaker.
Take the one question of the "installment plan." Where, if not in the
public school, can we fight the menace offered to the inexperienced
young people of the land by this method of doing business? And where
in the public school if not in the arithmetic class? Consider the
possibility of lives spent in paying for shoes and hats already worn
out, of furniture double-priced because payment is to be on the "easy
plan," of families always in debt, with wages mortgaged for months in
advance. The pure science of mathematics will be of little avail in
fighting this possibility, but "applied arithmetic" can be a most
effective weapon.
In our geography classes we may find time for the study of food and
clothing products, of their sources, their comparative usefulness, and
their cost. We may learn whether it is best to buy American-made
macaroni or the imported variety; whether French silks and gloves are
superior to those made in America; what "shoddy" is, what we may
expect from it if we buy it, how much it is worth in comparison with
long-wool fabrics, how to know whether shoddy is being offered us when
we buy. Countless other matters concerning the markets and products of
the world will repay the same sort of treatment.
[Illustration: One of the class exercises in the model school home
shown on page 115]
[Illustration: The correct serving of meals forms part of the class
work in this same home]
Food questions are opened up by study of our meat, vegetable, and
fruit supply. Every town may make this a personal and immediate
problem. From whom did Mr. Blank, the local grocer, obtain his canned
tomatoes? It is sometimes possible to follow up those canned tomatoes
to their source. In one investigation of this sort they were found to
have passed through six hands. The arithmetic class may pass upon the
question of profits and comparative cost between this and the
"producer-to-consumer" method.
The art work of the schools may also contribute generously to the body
of homemaking knowledge. For the average girl the designing and making
of Christmas cards and book covers, or even the prolonged study of
great paintings, is a less productive use of time than the designing
of cushion covers, curtains, bureau scarfs, or candle shades. In a
certain town in New England considerable effort was expended in
bringing about the introduction of art work in the schools a few years
ago. A normal-school art graduate took charge of the work. It has now
been abandoned because "the children took so little interest." And
really, if you knew the conditions, you could not blame them They
studied art and copied art and tried to cultivate an artistic sense in
ways as remote from their daily lives as could apparently be
contrived. And the pity of it all is that here were girls whose homes,
whose personal dress, were crying out for the application of art;
whose artistic sense was growing of failing to grow according as their
individual conditions would allow; and the public school has passed
its opportunity by.
Art, as applied to school work, is divided usually into appreciative
and creative work. We place before children the best in picture and
sculpture and music. Why do we not teach them also the foundation
principles of good taste in matters less remote from the lives of many
of them? Why not teach the girl something of artistic color
combination? Why not apply the test of art to the lines of woman's
attire? Why not study the contour of heads and styles of hairdressing?
Happily, in these days, these things also are being done. We have
"manual arts" rooms and teachers by whose aid girls are taught to use
the principles of design they study in their everyday planning of
everyday things. A visitor to the Central School of Auburn,
Washington, reports interesting work going on in such a room. On the
blackboard was written:
The general aim of design work--order and beauty.
The three principles governing design are:
Balance--Harmony--Rhythm.
Balance: opposition of equal forms.
Rhythm: movement in direction--joint action--motion.
Harmony: similarity.
In the room were girls doing various sorts of work--coloring designs
on fabrics for curtains and pillow covers; making original designs for
crocheted lace; hemstitching draperies; preparing color material for a
primary room; while on a table in the center of the room were many
finished articles, made by the girls and carrying out their principles
of design--"not one of which," says the visitor, "but would serve a
useful purpose in home or office."
House building, interior decorating, and furnishing are all worthy of
serious attention in the art course. Simplicity, harmony, and
suitability may well be taught as the principles of good taste. Girls
must learn these principles somewhere to make the most of their homes
by and by. And again the public school, and probably the elementary
school, must do the work.
Physiology and hygiene are already contributing to the knowledge which
makes for human betterment, but they also can be made to contribute
much more than they have sometimes done. The physiology of infancy
must be widely and insistently taught.
With proper education she [the young mother] would know the
meaning of the words food and sleep; she would know
something of their overwhelming importance upon the future
being and career of her child, who in his turn is to be one
of the world's citizens with full capacity for good or evil.
Knowing what were normal functions, she would be able to
recognize and guard against deviations from them. No day
would pass in which she would not find opportunity to
exercise self-restraint, keen observation and sensible
knowledge in furthering the normal and healthful evolution
of her child.[6]
The "little mother" classes in settlement houses, in community social
centers, and in some public schools are doing excellent work in
beginning this knowledge of infancy. No elementary school can really
afford to miss the opportunity such work holds out. Have we any right
to let a girl approach the care of her child with less than the best
that modern science can offer in this most important and exacting work
of her life? If not, it is again the public school which alone can be
depended upon to do the work, and we must get at least the beginning
of it done before the girl escapes us at the close of her
elementary-school course.
If you are impatient with a program which presupposes that practically
all women will be homemakers and mothers, either trained or otherwise,
let me remind you that the majority of women do marry, that most of
these and many of the unmarried do become homemakers, and that it will
be far safer for society to train the few--less than 10 per cent--who
never enter the career than to pursue the economically wasteful plan
of assuming educationally that no women will be homemakers, or that if
they are they can successfully undertake the most complicated,
difficult, and most important profession open to women with no
preparation at all, or with only what they have unconsciously absorbed
at home in the brief pauses of the education which did not educate
them for life.
The education for homemaking will never lose sight of the fact that
girls must really be prepared for a double vocation, since it is a
question whether or not they will become homemakers, and they must at
all events be prepared for the years intervening between school and
home. On the contrary, the education which prepares the homemaker will
exercise special care in training for those intervening years, or for
life work if it should prove to be such. Of all distinctly vocational
training, it is only fair, however, that the homemaking training
should come first, as a foundation for all later work. Whether the
girl thus trained ever presides over a home of her own or not, the
training will have made her a broader woman and a better worker, with
a finer understanding of the universal business of her sex.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 6: Oppenheim.]