"I object to them on principle, Macdonald. They're tips, that's what
they are."
"Tips?"
"Yes. I give a porter tuppence for seeing my bicycle into the van; I
give Mary Ritchie a book for beating the others at reading. I tip both."
"I don't see it."
"The porter shouldn't get a tip; his job is to look after luggage.
Mary's job is to read to improve her mind."
"But," said Macdonald, "life is full of rewards."
"I know." Here Peter Mitchell strolled up. "We're talking about prizes,"
I explained. "Life is full of rewards of all kinds, but the only reward
that matters is the joy in doing a thing well. If I write a poem or
paint a picture I'm not writing or painting with one eye on royalties or
the auction room. I sell my poem or picture in order to live ... in a
decent civilisation I wouldn't require to sell it to live, but that's by
the way. My point is that prizes are artificial rewards, just as
strapping is an artificial punishment."
"Goad!" said Peter Mitchell, "do ye mean to tell me that Aw wasna
thinkin' o' the reward when I selt my powney last Saturday?"
"Competition is a good thing," said Macdonald. "Look at running and
sports and all that sort of thing."
"I admit it," I said, "you like to beat your partner at golf. But my
contention is that the prize at the end is vulgar; the joy is in being
the best sprinter in the country. After all you don't glory in the fact
that Simpson took seven at the tenth hole; your glory lies in the
thought that you did it in three.
"Prizes in school are not only vulgar: they are cruel. Take Ellen Smith.
Ellen has always been a first-rate arithmetician; she has the talent.
For the past four years she has carried off the first prize for
arithmetic. Sarah Nelson is very good, but work as she likes she can't
beat Ellen. Sarah becomes despondent every year at prize-giving time.
Bairns aren't philosophical; they don't see that the vulgar little book
they get isn't worth thinking about. The ignorant noodles who sit on
School Boards (Peter Mitchell had moved on by this time) stand up at the
school exhibition and talk much cant about prizes. 'Them that don't get
them this year must just make a spurt and get them next year.' And the
poor bairns imagine that a prize is the golden fruit of life."
I notice that the men who are keenest on school prizes are firm
believers in school punishments. And they are generally religious. Their
god is a petty tyrant who rewards the good and punishes the wicked. They
try to act up to the attitude of their god ... hence, I fancy the term
"tin god."
* * *
I see that many eminent people are making speeches about "Education
After the War." I can detect but little difference between their
attitude and that of the commercial men who keep shouting "Capture
Germany's Trade!" "Let us have more technical instruction," cries the
educationist, "more discipline; let us beat Germany at her own game!"
The commercial man chuckles. "Excellent!" he cries, "first-rate ... but
of course we must have Protection also!"
And the educationist and the commercial man will have their way.
Education will aim frankly at turning out highly efficient wage-slaves.
The New Education has commenced; its first act was to abolish freedom.
Free speech is dead; a free press is merely a name; the workers were
wheedled into giving up their freedom to sell their commodity labour to
the highest bidder, while the profiteer retains his right to sell his
goods at the highest price he can get. Every restriction on liberty is
alleged to be necessary to win the war.
The alarming feature of the present Prussianisation of Britain lies in
the circumstance that the signing of peace will be but the beginning of
a new war. If the plans of the Paris Economic Conference are carried out
true education is interned for a century. Millions have lost their lives
in the military war: millions will lose their souls in the trade war.
Just as we have sullenly obeyed the dictates of the war government, we
shall sullenly obey the dictates of the trade government. "We must win
the trade war," our rulers will cry, and, if the profiteers say that men
must work sixteen hours a day if we are to beat Germany, the Press and
the Church and the School will persuade the public that the man who
strikes for a fifteen hours day is a traitor to his country.
Will anyone try to save education? The commercial men will use it to
further their own plans; the educationists will unconsciously play into
the profiteers' hands; the women ... only the other day the suffrage
band was marching through the streets of London displaying a huge banner
bearing the words "We Want Hughes." Hughes is the Premier of Australia,
a Labour man dear to the hearts of all the capitalist newspapers. His
one text is "Trade after the War."
Who is there to save education? The teaching profession could save it,
but teachers are merely servants. They will continue to argue about
Compulsory Greek and, no doubt, Compulsory Russian will come up for
discussion in the educational papers soon. The commercially-minded
gentlemen of Westminster will draw up the new scheme of education, and
the teachers will humbly adapt themselves to the new method.