which has been characteristic of the American school system from the
very beginning. Responsibility for the schools rests at the periphery;
and in extremely happy fashion the authority is so divided that all
variations, wherever they occur, are adaptations to local conditions;
and nevertheless unity is preserved. A labile equilibrium of the various
administrative factors is brought about by harmonious distribution of
the authority, and this is, in all departments of public life, the
peculiar faculty of the Americans.
The federal government, as such, has no direct influence on education.
The tirelessly active Bureau of Education at Washington, which is under
the direction of the admirable pedagogue, Mr. Harris, is essentially a
bureau for advice and information and for the taking of statistics. The
legal ordinances pertaining to school systems is a matter for the
individual state, and the state again leaves it to the individual
community, within certain limits of course and under state supervision,
to build schools and to organize them, to choose their teachers, their
plans of education, and their school-books. And at every point here,
exactly as in the striking example of the federal Constitution, the
responsibility is divided between the legislative and the executive
bodies. The state inspector of schools is co-ordinate with the state
legislature, and the school inspector of a city or a country district,
who is elected now by the mayor, now by the council, now perhaps
directly by the community, is a sort of technical specialist with
considerable discretionary power; he is co-ordinated to the school
committee, which is elected by the community, and which directs the
expenditures and confirms all appointments.
The responsibility for the moral and intellectual standards, for the
practical conditions, and for the financial liabilities incurred by
every school, rests therefore immediately with the community, which has
to pay for their support, and whose children are to derive advantage.
And nevertheless, the general oversight of the state sees to it that
neither whimsicality nor carelessness abuses this right, nor departs too
widely from approved traditions. These authorities are further
supplemented in that the state legislature is more or less able to make
up for differences between rich and poor districts and between the city
and the country, besides directly carrying on certain normal schools in
which the teachers for the elementary and grammar schools are trained.
Very great and very diverse advantages are the immediate outcome
of this administrative system. Firstly, an interest in the
well-being of the schools is developed in every state, city, and
town, and the spirit of self-perfection is united with the spirit
of self-determination. Secondly, there is a good deal of free play
for local differences—differences between states and differences
within the state. Nothing would have been more unsuitable than in
this whole tremendous territory to institute a rigidly fixed
school system, as say by some federal laws or some interstate
agreements. If there were the same educational provisions for the
negro states of the South and for the Yankee states of New
England, for the thickly settled regions of the East and the
prairies of the West, these provisions would be either empty words
or else they would tend to drag down the more highly educated
parts of the country to the level of the lowest districts. The
German who objects to this on the ground of uniformity, does so
because he is too apt to think of the great similarity which
exists between the different sections of Germany. The only proper
basis for a comparison, however, would be his taking Europe as a
whole into consideration.
If now the outward unity of this system which we have described is
nevertheless to be maintained, it is absolutely necessary that this form
shall be filled with very different contents. And this introduction of
diversity is intrusted to the state legislatures and local authorities,
who are familiar with the special conditions. In this way the so-called
school year in the school ordinances of a rich state may be about twice
as long as in another state whose poorer population is perhaps not able
entirely to do without the economies of child labour. But the
differences between the schools take particularly such a form that the
attainments of the different schools, corresponding to the culture and
prosperity of the state in which they are, and of the community, are
consciously designed to be quite different. The remoter rural schools
which, on account of the poverty of their patronage perhaps, have to get
on with one badly trained teacher and have to carry on four grades of
instruction in one school-room, and other schools which employ only
university graduates, which bring their scholars together in sumptuous
buildings, afford them laboratories and libraries, and have all the
wealth of a great city to back them—these schools cannot seriously enter
into competition with each other. Two years of study in one place will
mean more than four in another; and there is no special danger in this,
since this very inequality has brought it about that the completion of
one grade in a school by no means carries with it the right to enter the
next higher grade of any other school. It is not the case that a scholar
who has passed through any grammar school whatsoever will be welcome in
every high school. This is regulated by an entrance examination for the
higher school, which will not accept merely the certificate of
graduation from a lower.
There are still other forms of this differentiation. In the first place,
the schools have shown a growing tendency to establish various parallel
courses, between which the scholars are allowed to choose. In the
simplest case there is, perhaps, on the one hand a very practical plan
of education, and a second course which is rather more liberal; or,
again, there may be a course for those who are not meaning to study
further, and another course for those who are preparing for the entrance
examinations to some higher school. The fiction of uniformity is
preserved in this way. The child does not, as in Germany, choose between
different schools; but he chooses between plans of education in the same
school, and every day the tendency deepens to make this elective system
more and more labile.
But the most modern pedagogues are not content even with this, and
insist, especially in the grade of the high school, that the make-up of
the course of study must be more and more, as they say, adapted to the
individuality of the scholars; or, as others think, to the whimsies of
the parents and the scholars. Since, in accordance with this, the
entrance examinations for the colleges leave considerable free play for
the choice of specialties, this movement will probably go on developing
for some time. It appeals very cleverly to the instincts of both the
Puritans and the utilitarians. The Puritan demands the development of
all individual gifts, and the utilitarian wants the preparation for an
individual career. Nevertheless, there are some indications of an
opposite tendency. Even the utilitarian begins to understand that he is
best fitted for the fight who bases his profession on the broadest
foundation—who begins, therefore, with his specialization as late as
possible. And the Puritan, too, cannot wholly forget that nothing is
more important for his personal development than the training of the
will in the performance of duty, in the overcoming of personal
inhibitions, and that therefore for the scholar those studies may well
be the most valuable which at the first he seems least inclined to
pursue. Further differentiation results from the almost universal
opportunity to pass through the schools in a somewhat shorter time. It
is also possible for a student to progress more rapidly in one branch of
study, and so in different branches to advance at different rates.
We have over and above all these things, and more particularly in the
large cities, a factor of differentiation which has so far been quite
left out of account. This is the private school. The goal for the
student who wants to advance is not the diploma of graduation, but
preparation for the entrance examinations which are next higher. This
preparation can perhaps be obtained more thoroughly, more quickly, and
under more fortunate social conditions, in a private school, which
charges a high tuition, but in this way is able to engage the very best
teachers, and able perhaps to have smaller classes than the public
schools. And such a private school will be able to extend its influence
over all education. Large and admirably conducted institutions have
grown up, often in some rural vicinity, where several hundred young
persons lead a harmonious life together and are educated from their
earliest youth, coming home only during vacation. In such ways the
private school has taken on the most various forms, corresponding to
obvious needs. They find justly the encouragement of the state.
This diversity which we have sketched of public and private educational
institutions brings us at once to another principle, which has been and
always will be of great significance in American material and
intellectual history—the principle that everywhere sharp demarcations
between the institutions of different grades are avoided, and that
instead, sliding gradations and easy transitions are brought about, by
means of which any institution can advance without any hindrance. This
is in every case the secret of American success—free play for the
creations of private initiative. The slightest aspiration must be
allowed to work itself out, and the most modest effort must be helped
along. Where anything which is capable of life has sprung up, it should
be allowed to grow. Sharp demarcation with official uniformity would
make that impossible; for only where such unnoticeably small steps form
the transitions, is any continuous inner growth to be expected. We have
emphasized the local differences. The grammar school in New York is
probably more efficient than the high school in Oklahoma, and the high
school in Boston will carry its students probably as far as some little
college in Utah.
The thousands of institutions which exist afford a continuous transition
between such extremes, and every single institution can set its own goal
as high as it wishes to. A school does not, by any act of law, pass into
a higher class; but it perfects itself by the fact that the community
introduces improvements, makes new changes, appoints better and better
teachers, augments the curriculum, and adds to its physical equipment.
In such ways, the school year by year imperceptibly raises its standard.
And the same is true of the private school. Everything is a matter of
growth, and in spite of the outward uniformity of the system every
school has its individual standard. If one were to require that only
such institutions should exist as had distinctly limited and similar
aims, then the American would look on this as he would on an attempt to
force all cities to be either of ten thousand, a hundred thousand, or a
million inhabitants. Of course, all this would have to be changed, if as
in Germany, certain school grades carried with them certain privileges.
In America no school diploma carries officially any privilege at all. It
is the entrance examination, and not the tests for graduation, which is
decisive; and if there is any question of filling a position, the
particular schools which the candidates have gone through are the things
which are chiefly taken into account.
We must mention one more trait which differentiates the American from
the German school system. The American public school is co-educational.
Co-education means theoretically that boys and girls are entitled to
common education, but practically it means that boys are also tolerated.
The idea that the school should not recognize differences of sex is most
firmly rooted in the Middle-Western States, where the population is
somewhat coldly matter of fact; but it has spread through the entire
country. It is said that family life lends the authority for such an
intermingling of boys and girls; that, through a constant and mutual
influence, the boys are refined and the girls are made hardy; and that,
during the years of development, sexual tension is diminished. It is one
of the chief attractions that the private school offers to smaller
circles that it gives up this hardening of the girls and refining of the
boys, and is always either a boys’ or a girls’ school.
Even more striking than the presence of girls in the boys’ schools is,
perhaps, the great number of women who figure as teachers. The
employment of women teachers began in the Northern States after the
Civil War, because as a direct result of the decimation of the
population there were not men teachers enough. Since that time this
practice has increased throughout the country; and although high schools
generally try to get men teachers, the more elementary schools are
really wholly in the hands of women. Men do not compete for the lower
schools, since the competition of the women has brought down the wages,
and more remunerative, not to say more attractive, situations are to be
found in plenty. Women, on the other hand, flock in in great numbers,
since their whole education has made them look forward to some
professional activity, and no other calling seems so peculiarly adapted
to the feminine nature. The merits and drawbacks of co-education and of
the predominance of women teachers cannot be separated from the general
question of woman’s rights; and so the due treatment of these conditions
must be put off until we come to consider the American woman from all
sides.
It is not difficult to criticise rather sharply the school system, and
any one living in the midst of American life will feel it a duty to
deliver his criticism without parsimony. A system which expects the best
it is to have, from the initiative of the periphery, must also expect
the ceaseless critical co-operation of the whole nation.
In this way, then, crying and undeniable evils are often pointed out. We
hear of political interference in the government of the schools, and of
the deficient technical knowledge of local authorities, of the
insufficient preparation of the women teachers, the poorness of the
methods of instruction, of waste of time, of arbitrary pedagogical
experiments, and of much else. In every reproach there is a kernel of
truth. The connection of the schools with politics is in a certain sense
unavoidable, since all city government is a party government. And the
attempts to separate elections for the school committee entirely from
politics will probably, for a long time yet, meet with only slight
success. Since, however, every party is able to put its hand on discrete
and competent men, the only great danger is lest the majority of those
concerned misuse their influence for party ends, and perhaps deal out
school positions and advancements as a reward for political services.
Such things certainly happen; but they never escape the notice of the
opposite party, and are faithfully exploited in the next year’s
election. In this way any great abuses are quickly checked. The secret
doings, which have nothing to do with politics, are a great deal more
dangerous. It is certain that the enormous school budgets of the large
cities offer the possibility for a deplorable plundering of the public
treasury, when it is a question of buying new land for school-houses, of
closing building contracts, or of introducing certain text-books. A
committee-man who in these ways is willing to abuse his influence is
able to derive a considerable profit; and so it may well happen that men
come to be on the school boards through political influence or through a
professed interest in school matters, who have really no other aim than
to get something out of it. It is very hard in such matters to arrive at
a really fair judgment, since the rival claimants who are unsuccessful
are very apt to frame the opinion that they have been so because the
successful man had “connections.”
This sharply suspicious tendency and spirit of over-watchfulness on the
part of the public are certainly very useful in preserving the complete
integrity of the schools, but they occasion such a considerable tumult
of rumour that it easily misleads one’s judgment as to the real
condition of the institutions. In general, the school committees
appointed in the local elections perform their work in all
conscientiousness. It is, of course, the fact that they are rather
frequently ignorant of things which they need to know; but the tendency
to leave all technical questions in the hands of pedagogical
specialists, and to undertake any innovations only at the advice of the
school superintendent and directors, is so general that on the whole
things do not go quite so badly as one might expect.
The preparation of the teachers leaves very much to be wished. Those
teachers who have been educated in higher seminaries are by no means
numerous enough to fill all the public school positions; and even less
does the number of college graduates suffice for the needs of the high
schools. The fact that the teaching profession is remarkably versed in
pedagogics only apparently relieves this defect; for even the very best
methods of teaching are of course no substitute for a firm grasp of the
subject which is being taught. In the elementary schools the lack of
theoretical training in a teacher is, of course, less felt. The instinct
of the teacher, her interest in the child, her tact and sympathy, in
short the personal element, are what is here most important. And since
all this, even in the superficially educated woman, springs purely from
her feminity, and since the energetic women are extraordinarily eager
and self-sacrificing, so it happens that almost everywhere the
elementary schools are better conducted by their women teachers than are
the high schools.
So far as method goes, a great deal too much stress is laid on the
text-book; too much is taught mechanically out of the book, and too
little is directly imparted by the teacher. The teacher submits
passively to the text-book; and the American himself is inclined to
defend this, since his democratic belief in the power of black and white
is unlimited. Before all, he regards it as the chief aim of the public
school to prepare the citizen for the independent reading of newspapers
and books. Therefore, the scholars are expected to become as much
acquainted as possible with the use of books. There is no doubt that the
American school children read more newspapers in later life than do the
European, and it must also be borne in mind that for the most part the
text-books are notably good. Perhaps, in regard to attractiveness, they
even go rather too far. In this way not only the books of natural
history, but also of history and literature, are crowded with
illustrations. The geographies are generally lavishly gotten-up volumes
with all sorts of entertaining pictures. The appeals to the eye, both by
means of the text-books and even more by the aid of demonstrations and
experiments, are carried really to excess. Even the blackboards, which
run along all four walls of the school rooms, encourage the teacher to
appeal rather more to the eye than to the ear.
Also the much-discussed experimentation with new pedagogical ideas is an
unfortunate fact which cannot be denied. A central authority, which was
held fully responsible for a large district, would of course be
conservative; but where the details of teaching are left entirely to
every local school inspector, then of course many shallow reforms and
many unnecessary experiments with doubtful methods will be undertaken.
The school inspector will feel himself moved to display his modern
spirit and to show his pedagogical efficiency in just these ways. And
many a private school, in order to make itself attractive to the public,
is obliged to introduce the latest pedagogical foibles and to make all
sorts of concessions, perhaps against its will. To-day the method of
writing will be oblique, to-morrow vertical, and the day after to-morrow
“reformed vertical.” The pupils to-day are taught to spell, to-morrow to
pronounce syllables, the next day to take the whole word as the least
unit in language; and a day later they may be taught the meaning of the
words by means of appropriate movements.
It is not quite easy for a professional psychologist, who lectures every
year to hundreds of students in that subject, to say openly that this
irregular and often dilettante craze for reform is encouraged by nothing
more than by the interest in psychology which rages throughout the
country. The public has been dissatisfied with teachers, and conceived
the idea that everything would be better if the pedagogues concerned
themselves more with the psychical life of their pupils. And since for
this purpose every mother and every teacher has the materials at hand,
there has sprung up a pseudo-psychological study of unexampled
dimensions. It is only a small step from such a study to very radical
reforms. Yet everything here comes back in the end to the independent
interests and initiative of the teacher; and although many of these
reforms are amateurish and immature, they are nevertheless better than
the opposite extreme would be—that is, than a body of indifferent and
thoughtless teachers without any initiative at all.
It is also not to be denied that the American school wastes a good deal
of time, and accomplishes the same intellectual result with a much
greater outlay of time than the German school. There are plenty of
reasons for this. Firstly, it is conspicuous throughout the country that
Saturday is a day of vacation. This is incidental to the Puritan Sunday.
The school day begins at nine o’clock in the morning, and the long
summer vacations are everywhere regarded as times for idleness, and are
almost never broken in on by any sort of work. Again, the home duties
required of the school children are fewer than are required of the
German child, and all the instruction is less exacting. The American
girls would hardly be able to stand so great a burden if the schools
demanded the same as the German boys’ schools. Herewith, however, one
must not forget that this time which is taken from work is dedicated
very specially to the development of the body, to sport and other active
exercises, and in this way the perfection of the whole man is by no
means neglected. Moreover, America has been able, at least so far, to
afford the luxury of this loss of time; the national wealth permits its
young men to take up the earning of their daily bread later than
European conditions would allow.
When the worst has been said and duly weighed, it remains that the
system as a whole is one of which the American may well be proud—a
system so thoroughly elastic as to be suited to all parts of the country
and to all classes of society. It is a system which indubitably, with
its broad foundation in the popular school, embodies all the
requirements for the sound development of youth, and one, finally, which
is adapted to a nation accustomed to individualism, and which meets the
national requirement of perfection of the individual.