don't know," when the curiosity or science of his pupils suggests
questions that he has not considered. If we respect and admire the
wisdom of the wise, how ought we to be humbled, intellectually, by the
reflection that the unknown far exceeds the known, and that all become
as little children when they enter the temple of the sages! The
ancients prized schools, teachers, and learning, because they were
essential to wisdom; and wisdom enabled them to live temperately,
justly, and happily, in the present world; while we prize schools,
teachers, and learning, because they contribute to what we call success
in life. The population of New England, is composed of skilful artisans,
intelligent merchants, shrewd or eloquent lawyers, industrious and
intelligent farmers; and to these results our system of education is too
exclusively subservient. These results are not to be condemned, nor are
the processes by which they are secured to be neglected. But our schools
ought to do something always and for every one, for the full development
of a character that is essential to artisans, merchants, lawyers, or
farmers. Learning should not be prized merely as an aid to the daily
work of life,--though this it properly is and ever ought to be,--but for
its expansive power in the mind and soul, by which we attain to a more
perfect knowledge of things human and divine. There are many persons who
accomplish satisfactorily the tasks assigned them, but who do not always
comprehend the processes of life, in its political, social, literary,
scientific and industrial relations, by which the affairs of the world
are guided.
Something of this is due, speaking of America, and especially of New
England, to the universal desire to be engaged in active business. Young
men destined for the farm or the shop, the counting-house or the store,
leave home and school so early that their apprenticeship is ended long
before their majority commences; and they are thus prepared to enter
early and vigorously upon the business of life. This course has its
advantages, and it is also attended by many evils. Our youth have but
little opportunity for observation, and a great deal of time for
experience. They fall into mistakes that should have been observed, and
consequently shunned. Moreover, this custom tends to make business men
too exclusively and rigidly technical and professional; that is, in
plain language, speaking relatively, they know too much of their own
vocation, and too little of everything else. Business life follows so
closely upon home life and school life, that the lessons of the latter
fail to exert an immediate and controlling influence, and it is often
only in maturer years that the fruits of early training are seen. The
connection is such that the boy or youth becomes a devotee of business
before he is developed into complete manhood. This is movement, but not
true progress; activity, but not culture; appropriation and
accumulation, but not natural development. This peculiarity is less
prominent in England, and it is hardly known in the central states of
Europe. It is to some extent a national, and especially is it a New
England characteristic. It is a manifestation of the forward moving
spirit of our people, and it is also at once a promise and the security
for the ultimate supremacy of the American race and nation in the
affairs of the world. In Athens young men attained their majority when
they were sixteen; but they usually prosecuted their studies afterwards,
and Aristotle thought them unfit for marriage until they were
thirty-seven years of age. This rule was observed by Aristotle in his
own case; but we are unable to say whether the rule was made before or
after his marriage, which is a fact of much importance when we consider
the wisdom of the precept, and the real principles and philosophy of its
famous author. Moreover, regardless of one-half of creation, he has
neither stated the age at which females are marriageable, nor given us
that of his own wife. This neglect justly detracts from his authority;
and it will not be strange if young men and women view with distrust an
opinion that is so manifestly partial and one-sided. If schools make
merely learned people, in a narrow and technical sense, they are not
doing their whole work. Such learning makes an efficient population,
which is certainly desirable; but it ought also to be a well-educated
population in a broad, comprehensive, philosophic sense. By the force of
nature and the developing influences of society, including the church,
the school, and the home, we ought first to be educated men and women,
and then apply that education to the particular work we have in hand. By
learning, in this connection, I do not mean the learning of Agassiz as a
naturalist, the learning of Choate as a lawyer, or the learning of
Everett as an orator; but a more general and less minute culture, by
which men are prepared to form an accurate judgment upon subjects that
usually attract public attention.
In the gardens of the wealthy, we often see peach-trees and pear-trees
trained against brick or stone walls, to which they are attached by
substantial thongs. These trees are carefully and systematically
trained, and they are trained so as to accomplish certain results. They
present a large surface, in proportion to the whole, to the sun and air;
in addition to the direct rays of the sun, they receive the reflected
and accumulated heat of the walls to which they are fastened; and they
furnish ripe fruit much in advance of trees in the gardens and fields of
the common farmers. Here art and nature, in brick walls, manure, the
germinating power of the peach or pear, and rigid training and pruning,
have produced very good machines for the manufacture of fruit; but for
the full-grown, symmetrically developed tree, or even for the choicest
fruit in its season, we must look elsewhere. And who does not perceive,
if all the trees of the gardens, fields, and forests, were treated in
the same way, that the world would be deprived of a part of its beauty
and glory, and that many species of trees would soon become extinct? Who
would not give back the luscious pear and peach to their native
acritude, rather than subject the highest forms of vegetable life to
such irreverence? And, upon reflection, we shall say that such cruelty
to inanimate life can be justified only as we justify the naturalist who
dexterously and suddenly extracts a vital organ from a reptile, that he
may observe the effect upon that form of animal existence.
But the tree is not to be left in its native state. By culture its
growth is so aided, that it is first and always a tree after its own
kind, whether it be peach, pear, apple, elm, or oak; at once ornamental
and graceful, stately or majestic, according to the germinating
principle which diffuses itself through each individual creation. "For
the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the
ear, after that the full corn in the ear." So in the human heart, mind,
and soul, nature bringeth forth fruit of herself; and it is the work of
schools and teachers to aid nature in developing a full and attractive
character, that shall yield fruit while all its powers are enlarged and
strengthened, as the almond in the peach is not only more luscious in
its fruit, but more graceful in its branches. Culture, in a broad sense,
is the aid rendered to each individual creation in its work of
self-improvement. It is not a noble and generous culture which dwarfs
the tree that early ripened or peculiarly flavored fruit may be
obtained; and it is not a noble and generous culture of the child which
forces into unnatural activity certain faculties or powers that surprise
us by their precocity, or excite wonder by the skill exhibited in their
use. Rather let the child grow, expand, mature, according to the law of
its own being, giving it only encouragement and example, which are the
light and air of mental and moral life. I am not conscious that any one
has given us a philosophical, logical system of development, that
relates to the physical, intellectual, and moral character; and to-day I
state the educational want in this particular, but I do not attempt to
supply it. Yet in nature such a system there must be, and only powers of
observation are needed that we may avail ourselves of it. And in stating
this want more particularly, I offer, as my first suggestion, the
opinion, common among educators, that, speaking generally and with
reference to a system, we have no physical training whatever.
In the days of our ancestors, one hundred or two hundred years ago, this
training, as a part of a system of education, was not needed. We had no
cities, and but few large towns. Agriculture and the ruder forms of
mechanical labor were the chief occupations of the people. Populous
cities, narrow streets, dark lanes, cellar habitations, crowded
workshops, over-filled and over-heated factories, and the number of
sedentary pursuits that tax and wear and destroy the physical powers,
and undermine the moral and mental, were unknown. These are the
attendants of our civilization, and they have brought a melancholy train
of evils with them. In the seventeenth century, men perished from
exposure, from ignorance of the laws of health, from the prevalence of
malignant diseases that defied the science of the times; and, as a
consequence, the average length of human life was not greater than it
now is. At present, there is but little exposure that is followed by
fatal results; malignant diseases are deprived of many of their terrors;
rules of living, founded upon scientific principles, are accessible to
all; and yet we daily meet young men and women who are manifestly
unequal to the lot that is before them. In some cases, the sin of the
parent is visited upon the children, and the measure of life meted out
to them is limited and insufficient. In other cases, the individuals,
first yielding in their own persons, are the victims of positive vice,
or of some of the evils stated. Civilization is not an unmixed good; and
we cannot offer to the city or the factory any adequate compensation for
the loss of pure water, pure air, and the healthful exercise of body,
which may be enjoyed in the country villages and agricultural districts
of the state.
Yet even in cities and large towns the culture of home and school should
diminish these evils; and it is a pleasure to believe that our system of
domestic and public education is doing something at the present moment
in behalf of the too much neglected body; but nowhere, either in city or
country, do we observe the evidences of juvenile health and strength
that a friend of the race would desire to see. And it is, I fear,
specially true of schools, and to some extent it is true of teachers, as
a class, that too little attention is given to those exercises and
habits which secure good health. There are many causes which tend to
lower the average health and strength of our people. 1st. The practice
of sending children to school at the tender age of five, four, or even
three years. Every school necessarily imposes some restraint upon the
pupils; and I assume that no child under five years of age should be
subject to such restraints. But the education of the child is not,
therefore, to be neglected. Parents, brothers and sisters, may all do
something for the young inquirer; but he should never have lessons
imposed, nor be subject to the rules of a school of any description. The
moment of his admission must be determined by circumstances, and the
force of the circumstances must be judged of by parents. If a child is
blessed with kind, considerate, intelligent parents, the first eight
years of his life can be spent nowhere else as profitably as at home.
The true mother is the model teacher. No other person can ever acquire
the control over her off-spring that is her own rightful possession.
When she neglects the trust confided to her, she is guilty of a serious
wrong; and when she transfers it to another, she takes upon herself a
greater responsibility than she yields up. The instinctive judgment of
the world cannot be an erroneous judgment. The mother has always, to a
great extent, been made responsible for the child; and the honor of his
virtues or the disgrace of his crimes has been traced through him to
her.
2dly. Some portion of every school-day should be systematically and
strictly devoted to recreation, physical exercise and manual labor; and
the hours given to study ought to be defined and limited. Some persons
say, "Let a child study as much as he will, there is time enough to
play." This may be generally true, but it is not universally so. I
cannot but think that the practice of assigning lessons and giving the
pupil the free use of the four-and-twenty hours is a bad practice. Would
it not be better to give to each pupil certain hours for study?--assign
him lessons, by topics if possible, allow him to do what he can in the
allotted time, and then prohibit the appropriation of an additional
minute? Why should a dull scholar, or one who has but little taste or
talent for a given study, be required to plod twelve, sixteen, or
eighteen hours at unwelcome tasks, while another more favored disposes
of his work in six? Why should a pupil, who is laboring under some
mental or physical debility, be required to apply his mind unceasingly
when he most needs rest and recreation? Why should the pages of a
spelling-book, grammar, geography, or arithmetic, be the measure of each
pupil's capacity? Lessons are to be assigned, not necessarily to be
mastered by the pupil, though they should have just reference to his
capacity, but as the subject of his studies for a given period of time.
The pupil should be responsible for nothing but the proper use of that
time. Two advantages might result from this practice. First, the pupil
would acquire the habit of performing the greatest amount of labor
possible in the given time; and, secondly, he would naturally throw off
all care for books and school when the hour for relaxation arrived. If
particular studies are assigned to specified hours, the pupil must
master his thoughts, and give them the required direction. This in
itself is a great achievement. I put it, in practical value, before any
of the studies that are taught and learned in the schools. The danger to
which pupils are often exposed, in this connection, is quite apparent. A
lesson is assigned for a succeeding day. The attention is not
immediately fixed upon it. One hour passes, and then another. Nothing is
accomplished, yet the pupil is continually oppressed by the
consciousness of duty unperformed, and the result is, that he neither
does what he ought to do, nor does anything else. Would it not be better
to measure and assign his time, and then require him to abandon all
thought of the matter? This practice might give our people the faculty
and the habit of throwing off cares and occupations, when they leave the
scenes of them. It is a just criticism upon American character, that our
business men carry their occupations with them wherever they go. I
should put high up among the elements of worldly success the ability to
give assiduously, studiously and devotedly, the necessary time to a
subject of business, and then to throw off all thought of it. There can
be no peace of mind for the business man who does not possess this
quality; and I think it will contribute essentially to a long life and a
quiet old age. No wise man ever attempts more than one thing at a time;
and the man who attempts to do more than one thing at a time has no
security that he can do anything well. The statements of biography and
history, that Napoleon was accustomed to do several things at once, rest
upon a misconception of the operations of the human mind. His facility
for the direction and transaction of business depended upon the quality
I am now considering. He had the faculty of giving his attention,
undivided and strongly fixed, to a subject for an hour, half-hour,
minute, half-minute, or second, and then of dismissing the matter
altogether, and directing his thoughts, without loss of time, to
whatever next might be presented. One thing at a time is a law which no
finite power can violate; and ability in execution depends upon the
ability to concentrate all the powers of the mind, at a given moment,
upon the assigned topic, and then to change, without friction or loss of
time, to something else.
The institution is a high school, and the question is now agitated,
especially in the State of Connecticut, "How can the advantages of a
high school education be best secured?" This question I propose to
consider. And, first, the high school must be a public school. A _public
school_ I understand to be a school established by the
public,--supported chiefly or entirely by the public, controlled by the
public, and accessible to the public upon terms of equality without
special charge for tuition.
Private schools may be established and controlled by an individual, or
by an association of individuals, who have no corporate rights under the
government, but receive pupils upon terms agreed upon, subject to the
ordinary laws of the land.
Private schools may be founded also by one or more persons, and by them
endowed with funds, for their partial or entire support. In such cases,
the founder, through the money given, has the right to prescribe the
rules by which the school shall be controlled, and also to provide for
the appointment of its managers or trustees through all time. In such
cases, corporate powers are usually granted by the government for the
management of the business. But the chief rights of such an institution
are derived from the founder, and the facilities for their easy exercise
and quiet enjoyment are derived from the state.
Such schools are sometimes, upon a superficial view, supposed to be
public, because they receive pupils upon terms of equality, and no rule
of exclusion exists which does not apply to all. And especially has it
been assumed that a free school thus founded, as the Norwich Free
Academy, which makes no charges for tuition, and is open to all the
inhabitants of the city, is therefore a public school. These
institutions are public in their use, but not in their foundation or
control, and are therefore not public schools. The character of a
school, as of any eleemosynary institution, is derived from the will of
the founder; and when the beneficial founder is an individual, or a
number of individuals less than the whole political organization of
which the individuals are a part, the institution is private, whatever
the rules for its enjoyment may be. To say that a school is a public
school because it receives pupils free of charge for tuition, or because
it receives them upon conditions that are applied alike to all, is to
deny that there are any private schools, for all come within the
definition thus laid down.
Nor is there any good reasoning in the statement that a school is public
because it receives pupils from a large extent of country. Dartmouth
College is a private school, though its pupils come from all the land or
all the world; while the Boston Latin School is a public school; though
it receives those pupils only whose homes are within the limits of the
city. The first is a private school, because it was founded by President
Wheelock, and has been controlled by him and his successors, holding and
governing and enjoying through him, from the first until now; while the
Boston Latin School is a public school, because it was established by
the city of Boston, through the votes of its inhabitants, under the laws
of the state, and is at all times subject, in its government and
existence, to the popular will which created it. When we speak of the
public we do not necessarily mean the world, nor the nation, nor even
the state; but the word _public_, in a legal sense, may stand for any
legal political organization, territorially defined, and intrusted in
any degree with the administration of its own affairs. And the public
character of a particular school, as the Boston Latin School, for
example, may be determined, by a process of reasoning quite independent
of that already presented. The State of Massachusetts, a complete
sovereignty in itself, has provided by her constitution and laws, which
are the expressed judgment of her people, for the establishment of a
system of public schools, through the agency and action of the
respective cities and towns of the commonwealth. These towns and cities,
under the laws, set up the schools; and of course each school partakes
of the public character which the action of the state, followed by the
corporate public action of the city or town, has given to it. Thus it is
seen that our public schools answer to the requirement already stated.
They are established by the public, supported chiefly or entirely by the
public, controlled by the public, and accessible to the public upon
terms of equality, without special charge for tuition. Nor is the public
character of a school changed by the fact that private citizens may have
contributed to its maintenance, if such contributors do not assume to
stand in the relation of founders. It is well understood that the
beneficial founder of a school is he who makes the first gift or bequest
to it, and the legal founder is the government which grants a charter,
or in any way confers upon it a corporate existence. If a town establish
a high school, as in Bernardston to-day, and accept a gift or bequest,
the character of the school is not changed thereby. Mr. Powers did not
attempt to establish a new school. He gave the income of ten thousand
dollars for the aid of schools then existing, and for the aid of a
school whose existence was already contemplated by the laws of the
state. No change has been wrought in your institutions; they are still
public,--your generous testator has only contributed to their support.
And, in considering yet further the question, "How can the advantages
of a high-school education be best secured?" I shall proceed to compare,
with what brevity I can command, the public high school with the free
high school or academy upon a private foundation. My reasoning is
general, and the argument does not apply to all the circumstances of
society. It is not everywhere possible to establish a public high
school. In some cases the population may not be sufficient, in others
there may not be adequate wealth, and in others there may not be an
elevated public sentiment equal to the emergency. In such circumstances,
those who desire education must obtain it in the best manner possible;
and academies, whether free or not, and private schools, whether endowed
or not, should be thankfully accepted and encouraged. Nor will high
schools meet all the wants of society. There must always be a place for
classical schools, scientific schools, professional schools, which, in
their respective courses of study, either anticipate or follow, in the
career of the student, his four years of college life. With these
conditions and limitations stated, the point I seek to establish is that
a public high school can do the work usually done in such institutions
more faithfully, thoroughly, and economically, than it can be done
anywhere else.
1st. The supervision of the public school is more responsible, and
consequently more perfect. In private schools, academies and free high
schools which are endowed, there is a board of trustees, who perpetuate,
as a corporation, their own existence. Each member is elected for life,
and he is not only not responsible to the public, but he is not even
responsible, except in extraordinary cases, to his associates.
Responsibility is, in all governments, the security taken for fidelity.
The election of representatives, in the state or national legislature,
for life, would be esteemed a great and dangerous innovation.