To me Mr. Putney was a great teacher. I knew him as a friend, my friend
and the life-time friend of my father. I knew him as an active member of
the South Church, and a devoted leader of religious life and activity in
the Academy. But it was as a teacher that he had a formative power on my
life.
As I look back on those classes in "Beginning Greek," and in Cicero,
I recognize his painstaking thoroughness. The fundamentals were clear
to him, and it was his work to make them clear, definite, and lasting
in the minds of his pupils. If he made a mistake it was in his
conscientious care that no dull or backward or thoughtless pupil should
fail to have these fundamentals of the subject drilled into his mind.
How many hundreds of pupils owe their sense of accurate and clear
thought to his persistent efforts day in and day out, I have no idea.
He was primarily a great teacher because he never relaxed his effort
to make every pupil know the essentials of the subject he taught.
But he was more than a drillmaster, fundamental as that is. He was not
without a sense of humor. I remember once he came to the door of a room
in South Hall where, one Saturday afternoon, some boys were not very
quiet in their recreation. Some one answered his knock by asking, "Who's
there?" When the answer came, "It's me, Mr. Putney," the boy said, "No,
Mr. Putney would have said, 'It is I'"; and I can almost hear his quiet
chuckle as he went away.
A great teacher depends for his success on his moral character. No one
could ever question the sincerity and force of Mr. Putney's character.
With clear vision of the work he wanted to accomplish, with a devotion
to his high purpose which never wavered, with a simplicity and
straightforwardness which showed in every action, he impressed on
the students his high ideals. At the same time he won their complete
confidence and made them feel his sympathy.
Such a man leaves a widespread heritage in his pupils. He leaves also
a heritage of fine tradition for the Academy he served.