Education at the Public Schools.
Perhaps the moment is hardly auspicious for dealing with the present
subject, when the very word “education” has the ring of a challenge, but
happily the Public Schools remain in a kind of secluded backwater,
sheltered from the whirling eddies of political strife. Rightly or
wrongly, they hold a sort of privileged position which no Government is
likely to assail. In speaking of “education” at the Public Schools we
employ the word in its widest significance, being not merely the
assimilation by the boy of so many facts and figures, but his mental,
moral and physical training. These three branches of a boy’s education
are so closely connected together, acting and reacting on each other so
continually that it is difficult to deal with them separately.
The first and foremost care of the school—the one in which it takes most
pride—is the “tone” of its members. This word serves to describe the
general behaviour and opinions of the boys, their religious beliefs,
relations to their masters and to one another, the ideals, aspirations
and traditions which every school holds dear.
When a boy goes to his Public School for the first time, he is overawed
by the mass of customs and unwritten laws which insist upon his doing
one thing and forbid him to do another. Although some of them may strike
him as absurd, being merely survivals of a practice of which the use no
longer exists, he will come to learn that the life of a school is bound
up in its traditions, and will cherish them accordingly. He will first
discover that the home estimate and school estimate of his capacities
are very different, that he is, in fact, a nonentity. When he has
recovered from the shock of this discovery, he will set himself to find
out—or more probably he will learn instinctively—what is or is not
sanctioned by the public opinion of the school, what he may do or say.
As the “tone” of the place largely depends upon the discipline, which is
shared by the masters with the bigger boys, who—from their position in
the school or from their athletic and other qualifications—are chosen as
præfects, monitors or præpostere, it is easy to perceive how essentially
bound up together are these various branches of school training.
As regards education in its more restricted sense, many would have us
believe that too great prominence is given to games, and that the
school-boy’s great ambition is to get into the Eleven or Fifteen, whilst
success at work is, in his opinion, of very secondary importance. It is
argued—with some justification—that it is of no use in the battle of
life to be a good cricketer or a good footballer; that education needs
to be more practical and scientific; that it must, in fact, move with
the times; and although it may be highly edifying to be able to write
good Latin verses, or to read Greek plays at sight, such things have
little real value in the twentieth century. Shakespeare, indeed, tells
us that he had “small Latin and no Greek,” yet his education does not
seem to have materially suffered. It may be of more practical use to a
boy to have a thorough knowledge of French and German, for example—a
knowledge which may be more easily acquired by a sojourn of two or three
years in France or Germany—than the somewhat elementary acquaintance
with the Classics which frequently represents the sum total of school
education; but to say that the British boy—as boy—would be improved by
spending the last two or three years of his school-life abroad is
something amounting to sacrilege. It must not be forgotten that at all
the big Public Schools there is an adequate “Army Side,” where boys are
coached for Woolwich or Sandhurst; here, at least, the teaching is
eminently practical for the end in view. There is, moreover, a “Modern”
or “Civil Side,” where the theoretical work is often supplemented by
practical work in the laboratories and workshops. Those parents,
therefore, who cavil at the classical education, have only to put their
boys on the Modern side, where the time devoted to Classics is more in
proportion to the other subjects.
In the matter of education, the Public Schools labour under this
disadvantage, that the parents have frequently not decided what their
boy is to be, or what particular line his studies are to follow. Most
parents are naturally anxious that the boy should choose his own career
for himself, whilst the majority of boys are quite unable to do any such
thing, never quite knowing their own mind for more than two days
together. But in these days of competition it is essential that a boy
should specialise, almost from the beginning; and the sooner his mind is
made up, either by himself or by those responsible for him, the better
it will be for his studies. It is no uncommon thing for a boy to learn
Greek for a few terms, then drop it and go on the Modern side, and
subsequently take it up again in order to pass Responsions or Little Go,
after which he frequently drops it again. The human faculty of
forgetting being far more highly developed than the power of
remembering, it is obvious that this sort of “see-saw” learning can have
little educational value, but it is through no fault of the Public
Schools that such things occur. Most parents are convinced that their
boy or boys must have a deal of latent talent, which they consider it
the duty of the master to discover; hence, the latter are often faced
with the problem of making bricks without straw, and the result is that
the boy acquires a smattering of endless subjects without attaining a
thorough knowledge of anything. If, on the other hand, the course of a
boy’s studies has been decided upon, his mind need not be hampered with
useless and imperfectly acquired information, and much valuable time can
thus be devoted to the subjects which are necessary for his purpose.
There are subjects, it is true, which do not seem to be of any practical
value, yet which cannot well be dispensed with. Many boys cry out about
geometry, for example, forgetful of the fact that this is a form of
mental exercise which, in the majority of cases, must have the most
beneficial effect, although they are glad enough to waste hours in the
laboratories, doing what is euphemistically called “Practical
Chemistry,” a branch of study to which the old adage about “a little
knowledge” most emphatically applies. If it is intended that a boy shall
follow a scientific career, let him, by all means, make a good use of
the excellent laboratories which all the big schools possess; but for
the ordinary boy it is advisable to limit his subjects as much as
possible. There are subjects with which some boys can never grapple. It
is useless, for example, for a boy who has no mathematical capacity to
struggle with the difficulties of higher mathematics; and whereas one
boy may have the “ear” for foreign languages, another is probably
wasting his time in attempting to learn them. It is, therefore,
advisable that as few subjects as possible should be made compulsory,
and that a boy’s whole energy should be concentrated on those subjects
for which he shows some aptitude or which are essential to the end he
has in view; and that the system of general education—which
theoretically develops the mind by a diversity of study, but which
practically leaves the boy a “Jack of all trades, master of
none”—should, in certain cases, give way to a more special treatment.
This is not meant to advocate a system of cramming, which is foreign to
the principles of the Public Schools, but is rather a suggestion that
the system of education should be adapted to the somewhat limited
capabilities of the average school-boy.
At most Public Schools a full day’s work is about six and a half or
seven hours in school, with an hour or an hour and a half for
preparation. At some schools, Harrow and Rugby, for example, all the
boys are provided with studies, but at the majority of schools these are
reserved for the privileged few. At Eton it has been the custom to
divide the day’s work up into a variety of short periods, in order that
boys may not be compelled to sit at their books for too long a time.
This enables boys, for example, to play football in the morning, which
is quite a common practice at some of the schools in Scotland, whilst at
Winchester and Clifton football is played in the morning on whole school
days; but the majority of schools prefer to break the back of the work
before dinner. Wednesdays and Saturdays are usually half holidays,
though Tuesday and Thursday are “half remedies” at Winchester, whilst
Thursday is frequently a whole holiday at Harrow. At a few schools,
red-letter Saints’ Days are observed as whole holidays. Sunday at the
Public School is not a day of rest. Perhaps with the idea that the only
way to keep boys out of mischief is to keep them employed, they do not
have a great deal of time to themselves. It is no uncommon thing for
boys to have Chapel three and, occasionally, four times on the Sunday,
with a scripture lesson in the course of the day, whilst at some
schools, where walks are permitted, the boys have frequently to return
for “call-over” in the middle of the afternoon. The late headmaster of
one of our greatest Public Schools stated that, although he had received
many letters referring to the boys’ work and games, he had never had any
with reference to religious training. This may have been due to
indifference on the part of the parents, but more probably to the
certain knowledge that there was no danger of this side of the boy’s
education being neglected. Nearly every big school has its chapel. Rugby
Chapel has been immortalised by Matthew Arnold, whilst many persons are
familiar with the Chapel at Eton. Winchester Chapel, once a gem of
Gothic architecture, has been deprived of almost every claim to beauty
by the hand of the restorer. In the choir are the eighteen old
“Miserere” seats, so contrived that, if the occupant went to sleep, they
tilted over and deposited him on the ground. At Charterhouse the Chapel
is built of white stone, like the rest of the school. The seats face
north and south, and the choir seats are in the centre of the building,
which is peculiar. Clifton College is very proud of the reredos in its
chapel, which is a very fine mosaic. The first of the “School Laws” at
Winchester refers to behaviour in Chapel:—
Deus colitor.—Worship God.
Preces cum pio animi affectu peraguntor.—Say your prayers in a pious
frame of mind.
Oculi ne vagantor.—Let not your eyes wander about.
Silentium esto.—Keep silence.
Nihil profanum legitor.—Read nothing profane.
We thus see that the moral training of the boy is the first
consideration at the Public School. Carlyle would have us believe that
work is the only guarantee of happiness for a man, but for a boy it is
different. He must have so many hours enjoyment every day to keep his
mind and body in a healthy condition; and so it is that every Public
School encourages and fosters those games and pastimes which take such a
prominent place in our national life, and which contribute so enormously
to the physique of our boys. Space, forbids anything but a passing
mention of these games and customs, which play such an important part in
the life of the English school-boy. Suffice it to notice that with the
increased interest which has been taken in athletics and in the physical
development of the boys, more attention has been bestowed upon their
feeding and general health, and thus one of the greatest reproaches has
been removed from the Public Schools. Nevertheless, the “tuck-shop”
still figures large at most big schools, and the average boy prefers the
dainties there supplied, however unwholesome, to the simple but
wholesome food with which he is now provided. It is, however, worthy of
notice that the “tuck-shop” has advanced with the times. At Harrow, hot
sausages and boiled eggs are supplied, whilst at Haileybury loaves of
bread, with the most delicious fresh butter, were obtainable. Except
from the smaller boys, there is less demand for sweets and confections
than there used to be. The old idea of large dormitories, with twenty or
thirty boys in them, though it has much to recommend it from a
disciplinary point of view, has generally given way to smaller rooms
with three or four beds in them. Thus if any epidemic arises there is
less fear of infection. At Harrow the boys sleep in their studies, the
beds and bedsteads being folded back into a kind of cupboard during the
day. At some schools boys are allowed to “brew” in their studies, which
therefore may be differently regarded as workroom, bedroom, or kitchen,
according to the hour of the day or the occupation of the owner.
In conclusion, it may be said that the average parent does not send his
or her boy to school simply and solely to learn his books, but to make a
man of him. It is this side of Public School education which calls forth
our greatest admiration. The constant companionship of other boys, the
hardening effect of games and sports, the observance of custom and the
discipline of the school, these and other things help to rub the corners
off a boy, to “lick him into shape,” and—if he has anything in him—to
make a Briton of him. The Public Schools have justified their system of
education in the past by the men whom they have educated and sent out
into the world; and although they are, for the most part, very
conservative bodies, they are doubtless fully alive to the needs of the
moment, and will continue to perform their indispensable service to
society by producing a class of men of which any nation might well be
proud, with possibly, in the future, a little more practical knowledge
than the majority of Public School boys have hitherto possessed.