The importance of this point is not to be measured by the mere
gratification it affords. It adds undoubtedly to the happiness of the
teacher in his work, to know that his scholars love him. Nor is this a
small consideration. The teacher has many vexatious rubs. He encounters
much toil and self-denial; and whatever tends to mitigate these
asperities, and to make his labor sweet, is for that very reason
important. The teacher has, for a part at least of his reward, the
enjoyment of a love as pure and unselfish as any known upon earth. He
will doubtless go forward in duty, even where he fails of obtaining this
precious foretaste of the heavenly bliss, and he has doubtless higher
aims than any arising from mere gratification, of whatever sort. Yet a
boon so great is not to be despised or ignored. The ardent love which
scholars sometimes give to their teachers is a high gratification, and
something to be greatly prized for the mere pleasure it gives.
And yet, after all, this is not its main value. The fact that children
love their teacher, gives to the teacher almost unbounded influence over
them. There is hardly a point, necessary to the success of a school or
of a class, that scholars will not readily yield to a teacher whom they
love. By this silken cord they can be drawn whithersoever the teacher
wills. To please teacher, they will attend regularly, will come
punctually, will be quiet and orderly, will learn their lessons, will be
attentive to instruction. More than all this, many a child, by the love
of an earthly friend, has been led to the love of his heavenly Friend.
The young heart is opened to receive the Saviour, by the warmth of its
love for one who so manifestly bears his image. Perhaps there is no one,
not even excepting a mother, who can so easily bring the young to the
Saviour, as the teacher who has thoroughly succeeded in winning his
scholars' affections.
There is another consideration in this matter, not so weighty as the one
named, yet of great importance, and the more worthy to be named, because
it is generally not rightly understood. I refer to the fact that
children will learn so much more readily under a teacher whom they love.
Not only will they study better, and be more attentive, for the sake of
pleasing their teacher, but by some mysterious process of the mind, love
helps us to understand, as dislike disturbs and beclouds the
understanding. When a child has a dislike or prejudice or ill-feeling of
any kind against a teacher, or a subject of study, the effect upon the
mind of the child is like that produced upon a spring of pure and
sparkling water by stirring up the mud and sediment from the bottom. In
the human organization the heart is at the bottom, and disturbing
influences there cause us to see things through an impure medium. The
calmness and serenity, produced by perfect love and trust, are the
proper conditions for the right and best working of the understanding.
We must get the heart right if we would see truth clearly, and that
teacher who has won the love of his scholars has done much towards
making the path of knowledge easy for them.
Let the teacher, then, aim to win the love of his scholars, first,
because this love is in itself a boon to which the teacher has a
rightful claim; secondly, because it gives him a powerful influence in
moulding the character and habits of the children, and especially in
bringing them to the Saviour; and, thirdly, because it helps the
scholars intellectually, enabling them to understand better and to learn
faster.
But how is this love to be gained?
Assuredly, _not_ by demanding it as a right, or by fretting,
complaining, or scolding because your scholars do not love you. Love
only is the price for love. If you wish your scholars to love you, you
must first love them, not pretend to do it,--children are quick to see
through such pretences,--but really and truly love them.
Many teachers, however, sincerely love their scholars, and yet do not
succeed in winning their affections. Something in their manner and
appearance is repulsive. There is in the face of some good people a hard
and forbidding look, at which the heart takes alarm and retires within
itself. The young heart, like the young buds in spring-time, requires an
atmosphere of warmth and sunshine. If we would draw forth their warm
affections towards us, we must not only feel love towards them in our
hearts, but we must wear sunshine in our faces. A pleasant smile, a
loving word, a soft, endearing tone of the voice, goes a great way with
a child, especially where it is not put on, but springs from a loving
heart.
Some teachers in avoiding this hard, repulsive manner, run to the
opposite extreme, and lose the respect of their scholars by undue
familiarity. Children do not expect you to become their playmate and
fellow, before giving you their love and confidence. Their native
tendency is to look up. They yearn for repose upon one superior to
themselves. Only, when the tender heart of youth thus looks up, let it
not be into a region filled with clouds and cold, but into a sky
everywhere pervaded with a clear, steady, warm sunlight. Let there be no
frown upon your brow, no harsh or angry word upon your lips, no exacting
sternness in your eye. Let the love which you feel in your heart beam
forth naturally and spontaneously in loving looks and words, and you
need not fear but that you will meet with a response.