Side-Tracking the Teacher
Even the poorest teacher has a right to the course he has marked out
for himself; even the smartest scholar has no right to side-track him.
Some scholars side-track their teacher merely to show that they
understand how to use the switch; others do it by simply fooling with
the switch, in pure carelessness and thoughtlessness; others really
wish to bring the teacher nearer some private interest of their own.
Their motive must determine your treatment of them,--whether it is to
be the bruskness that rebukes conceit, the firm patience that resists
carelessness, or the considerate postponement of questions that are
prompted by a need.
But so far as its effect on the lesson is concerned, it makes no
difference whether the teacher is side-tracked by a switch of gold or
one of brass,--the lesson is "held up," and often permanently.
It is not always easy to tell when these question-switches are open,
and when they are closed,--when they will side-track you, and when
they will merely salute you with a friendly rattle and let you pass;
the tokens are not so definite as on the red and white faces of the
switch indicator. And yet you cannot engineer your class far without
wrecking it, if you do not learn to read these question indicators,
and tell at a glance whither they will send you.
But what is the use of reading them, if you are to be at their mercy
anyway? How shall we circumvent these mischief-making switchers?
Some would abruptly take away their switch-keys, and practically
dismiss them from the force; that is, they would prohibit questioning
altogether. But this is capitulating to the problem. Some would swing
smilingly off upon the side-track, as if they had intended to go
there. But that is surrendering their preparation. Some would rush
precipitately into the side-track and through it, expecting to find at
the other end a switch back to the main track. But thus the lesson is
usually derailed.
On the railroad, of course, there is authority; but in the
Sunday-school the less appeal to authority the better. No, the
likeness, to a large extent, stops here; for in the Sunday-school the
only way to deal with a scholar who side-tracks the train is to win
him by friendly arts to become your helper rather than your hinderer.
In the first place, many a lesson is side-tracked because the main
track is not made sufficiently plain to the scholars' apprehension.
When the lesson winds like a snake, with a purpose known only to the
teacher (if to him), small blame to the scholars if they switch it off
the wrong way by a question. Strike out in a bee-line at the start,
and stick to it. No one will then ignorantly side-track you.
In the second place, many a lesson is side-tracked because the teacher
does not act as if he cared whether he ever arrived anywhere or not.
Lackadaisical in manner and matter, his carelessness provokes equal
carelessness in his scholars. Let him, on the other hand, appear to be
eagerly on the scent of some truth, on the track of some fact,
following the path of some event or demonstration, and his scholars
will, in the main, be "forth and right on" with him.
In the third place, many a lesson is side-tracked because the scholars
are not on the side of the teacher. Of course, when the two parties
are at cross-purposes, things run no more evenly than they would if
the engineer of a train were out of touch with his crew. The teacher
must get up an _esprit de corps_, a class spirit, or his class will be
perpetually flying off from him on a tangent. His scholars must be
interested in him, if they are to be interested with him. He must draw
them to himself, or they will never pull together. Friendship in his
crew must take the place of authority in the railroad crew; and the
more friendship, the less side-tracking.
In the fourth place, there must be frankness of speech. A misplaced
switch on a railway, if it provoked no further collision, would at
least provoke a clash of words. There is no reason why, if a question
is too far aside from the main purpose of the lesson, the teacher
should not frankly say so. He may lay it away in his mind for later
discussion; he may promise to talk it over after the session; but no
fear of being thought incompetent, or unsympathetic, or arbitrary,
should induce him to turn aside from his one purpose. The wise teacher
will make many exceptions, of course, to every rule; but nevertheless,
a rule of the wise teacher it must be, to say to every irrelevant
question, kindly and tactfully, yet firmly, "Get thee behind me." For
the half-hour is all too short. The impressions made are all too
confused. The instruction given is all too fragmentary. However wise
and earnest the individual moments may be, there is danger that the
half-hour may pass into oblivion at once, unless these individual
moments have been wise and earnest to some single, distinct end.
There is a place for switches in our Sunday-school lesson. The train
must be made up. Side excursions must often be made. There are sundry
connecting lines whose cars must be switched in. But in genuine
Sunday-school railroading there must be no delay upon side-tracks. Let
all teachers, as far as possible, run express.