REPORTS
“All my reports go with the modest truth,
Nor more, nor clipp’d, but so.”--_King Lear._
The annual inspection of a school ended in a Report. When the papers
had been marked, and the Examination Schedules had been made up, it was
time to search one’s note-book, and to rack the memory for facts, and
therefrom to construct a report to Their Lordships, to be communicated
to the managers, and by them to the teachers.
In the earlier days of inspection this was a comparatively simple
affair: the really important matter was the number of children who
had passed or failed in the examination. Upon this, unless there was
conspicuous weakness, the greater part of the grant depended, and
it was easy to fill up the forms with commonplace criticisms and
suggestions. From 1876 to the middle of the ’nineties the pressure
increased, until at last reporting became a serious strain on memory,
judgment, and conscience; for there was a variable grant for half a
dozen subjects, culminating in a variable grant for the general “merit”
of the whole school: and each item required some thought. New code
after new code relaxed the strain, until inspection arrived at the
present effete condition, when the grant is fixed, and the criticisms
of H.M.I. are like the bite of a midge; annoying for the moment, but
transitory in effect.
Or, as my old headmaster would have said, “like the coruscations of the
summer lightning, lambent, but yet innocuous.”
From one corner of my old domain comes a mimic blue-book, containing
all the school reports for the past year. Here they are collected;
and I look at them with some dismay. Of course I did not write all of
them, but I edited all, and I am answerable for all. Some are strongly
worded, for, if one does not shout pretty loud to a deaf man, one is
not heard. Yet one does not want one’s shouts phonographed. How do the
managers and teachers like the reports in print, scattered broadcast?
I search my memory for any parallel publication. The nearest that I can
discover is a Cricket Directory, which I saw perhaps forty years ago: I
quote from memory fertilised by imagination:
A. B. is a promising run-getter, but he too often forgets that a
straight bat is a rudimentary necessity: his fielding is improving: as
a bowler he has not been successful this year: his average is x.
C. D. bowled x overs for y runs last season, and took z wickets: this
is his best record so far, and makes him a valuable acquisition to a
county team. As a batsman he has still much to learn: his average last
year was z.
These are complimentary compared with some of the school reports that
lie on my table. But when I read them, or rather their prototypes, in
that remote period, I was sorry for A. B. and C. D. Yet the writers
were subject to the law of libel, and H.M.I., if not malicious, is
privileged.
“Others abide our question: thou art free,”
the Law Courts may say. Stern critics sit in Whitehall and weed out all
that seems perilous: when the sieve has done its duty there is little
left for the lawyers.
I meditate on the extension of the expression of free opinion. How
would it work on Sundays? The preacher has a pulpit, and in that
inviolable recess has a free tongue for half an hour, with a merciful
leaning towards twenty minutes. The organist is a greater libertine.
The architect and builder ill-use us, and for the most part we suffer
silently. Would the bench of bishops send me about the country to
report on church services, and to recommend deductions from the
incomes of the incompetent? Of course one would begin with cathedrals
and proceed with more lenient rule to parish churches. Probably at
least one inspector would be required in each diocese, and as these
officials, like school inspectors, would be men of diverse minds,
it would be the most racy Bluebook of the year that reproduced their
varied views. Let us make some samples:
Norchester Cathedral. Visited on April 1 by Mr. Mendelssohn
Brown.
The condition of this cathedral is far from satisfactory. The singing,
which is the main object of interest to the greater part of the
congregation, is even worse than at last year’s inspection. Of the
eight men several should be contemplating acceptance of a retiring
pension. The boys are ill-behaved, and their musical capacity is on a
level with their behaviour: in the Psalms there was no verse in which
they did not make one or more mistakes. The Services were ill-chosen
and incorrectly rendered: the Anthem was a pretentious failure. The
merely literary part of the service was satisfactory, but it is not
desirable to attach too much importance to these rudiments.
Remarks: My Lords will require a more favourable report on
the singing as a condition of an unreduced grant.
Westchester Cathedral. Visited on March 7 by Mr. Simeon Jones.
It is gratifying to be able to report well of the musical part of the
service: the organ playing was distinctly good, and the singing often
reached a high level of excellence. It should, however, be borne in
mind that congregational worship is the primary consideration, and
special attention should be paid to this feature in the coming year.
The Canon in Residence would do well to attend an elocution class at
a Continuation school in the winter season: it was with the utmost
difficulty that the Lessons were heard, and even in the 16th chapter
of Romans four mistakes in the Salutations is 33·3 per cent. above
the average for all England. The Dean’s sermon was for the most part
inaudible: this is probably not to be regretted from a doctrinal point
of view, but the waste of time is a serious consideration.
Remarks: Special attention should be paid to the Inspector’s
warning.
Sudchester Cathedral: Visited on Nov. 10 by Mr. Hodge.
The service was very creditably conducted and well attended. It is
unfortunate that the collections continue so small. The premises need
attention: the choir is dark, and the walls need cleaning. It might
be advisable to remove the 15th century stained glass from the East
window and to substitute clear glass. If the walls were whitewashed
(two coats) there would be less danger from germs. The health and
comfort of the congregation should not be sacrificed to merely
æsthetic considerations.
Remarks: I am to request that the Dean and Chapter will
submit plans and estimates of the work recommended by their Lordships’
Inspector as soon as possible.
Eastchester Cathedral: Visited on Dec. 15 by Mr. Crankie
Robinson.
The Dean and Chapter are to be congratulated on the completion of the
restoration of this ancient fabric, and which has been carried out
in a thoroughly catholic and conservative spirit, with the result
of revealing to the present generation the work of Sigismund, first
Abbot of Ostia. At the same time the later accretions, notably the
lancet windows of the polygonal apse, and the late Perpendicular
machicolations, have been reverently handled. The time at my disposal
was insufficient to enable me to report fully on the preaching,
reading, and singing, but the work seemed satisfactory on the whole.
The crypt was very cold.
Remarks: The Dean and Chapter should seriously consider the
advisability of warming all parts of the sacred edifice.
Such reports would be what my clerical friends call “distinctly
helpful.” If there is any hesitation shown by the episcopal bench in
taking it up, Baedeker might be appealed to. By degrees all important
places of worship might be gathered in.
This, however, is visionary: I am concerned with the actual.
In framing the school reports “to be communicated to the managers,” we
had several rough principles. The first was that a good school would
do with a very few words: a bad school required many stripes. The
second was that one should begin with the good points (if any), and
thus proceed more gracefully to the bad points. But if the place were
thoroughly bad, it was thought wise to begin and end with denunciation,
sandwiching a few words of faint praise about the middle.
It was noticeable that a master liked to be prepared beforehand for a
bad report. One man, of whom I knew something, complained bitterly that
the Inspector “before leaving the room was as pleasant as you’d wish,
and I thought everything was going well; but when I got the Report I
couldn’t sit down for a week after it.” How graphic!
It happened from time to time that a school manager would be goaded
into fury. At one time I expected this to occur twice, or it might be
thrice, a year. It might almost certainly be predicted that the fight
would rage round one adjective or one verb: though the word might be
immaterial to the general argument.
From many such contests we were saved by the skill of the examiners in
Whitehall. From long experience and not, I am sure, from any congenial
dullness of mind, they got to know exactly how a thoroughly stupid
manager might misinterpret a harmless phrase; and if they kindly
forewarned me, I gratefully substituted something suitable to the
meanest capacity. The knavish speech may sleep in the foolish ear, but
simple speech may kindle amazing suspicion that will blaze into wrath.
In more remote days our reports were twofold. The full report was sent
to the Department, and, if approved, was forwarded to the managers.
But, in addition, every certificated teacher who had passed through a
period of probation had a parchment certificate of merit; and on this
it was our duty to inscribe an epigrammatic abstract of the report on
the school, or, if he were a class teacher, on his class. The advantage
of this “endorsement” was great. It gave managers of schools a complete
history of an applicant’s career. It gave an inspector still more
valuable information; for in reading previous endorsements he was
often able to supply a good deal that was not apparent on the surface.
The opinions of some inspectors had a special value. Others were less
esteemed. I was told that one very important School Board had a sort of
table, equating the official opinions of all the inspectors in England.
But I never heard what Mrs. Harris (_teste_ Mrs. Gamp) would have
called “my individgle number.”
The ordinary inspector soon acquired the habit of framing his
endorsement on the general principles of his craft. It was not thought
fair to speak ill of a teacher on his certificate, unless there were
special grounds. Therefore one proceeded by judicious omission. If one
read that Mr. A. “taught the elementary subjects with fair success” one
drew two inferences; (1) that he could _not_ teach anything else; (2)
that his discipline was weak, because it was not mentioned. But if it
was stated that Mrs. B. “maintained good order, and was particularly
successful in teaching handwriting,” it became obvious that her
arithmetic was a deplorable failure. So that to the trained eye the
_suppressio veri_ was not a _suggestio falsi_.
But useful as the system was, it was open to two strong objections.
Firstly, it was often hard on a teacher, for the inspector might
err, and the endorsement was permanent. Secondly, and this was the
last straw, it became an intolerable nuisance to the inspector. In a
school of 100 children it was easy to be terse, innocuous, and fairly
truthful. But I open a recent notebook, and find a school of 600 boys
with 21 teachers. Supposing that ten of these teachers want certificate
reports; conceive the strain on the imagination, or the commonplace
book! Therefore a cynical and eccentric colleague adopted the startling
method of applying the same treatment to all. If this school of 600
boys passed a good examination on the whole, but had two weak classes
out of the twenty, then the correct summary would be--“The school has
on the whole passed a good examination. Standards II.(b) and III.(c)
are not equal to the rest.” _And he wrote this on the certificates of
all the ten men._ Eight at least would say, “What have I to do with the
two black sheep? Mine are white.” But the inspector replied, like Mrs.
Prig, “Who do you think’s to wash one feater, and miss another, and
wear out one’s eyes with all manner of fine work of that description,
for half-a-crown a day?” Or words to that effect.
It was recorded of another inspector, whose massive intellect had
partly given way under the strain of compiling reports, that in a
certain school he wrote:
“The master’s wife has lately died: the school has been painted
pea-green.
“J. Tearem, H.M.I.”
These records, I said, were indelible: but there was nothing
to prevent a teacher from (so to speak) suiciding his parchment
certificate and lamenting its loss for the rest of his life. If the
parchment was lost, the Department declined to replace it, unless it
had been lost by an inspector. Probably the inspectors lost more than
the teachers destroyed, but it was rumoured that the latter method was
not unknown. An alternative remedy was to erase undesirable words,
and, if necessary, to introduce amendments. This certainly was done
occasionally, for there were cases of detection, and that suggests the
existence of undetected cases. A more remarkable course was to hire,
or buy the parchment of a retired teacher, if possible a homonym, and
to trade under that new name with such alterations as were necessary.
A colleague told me of a case, which he declared was well known in the
village in which the vendor lived. It was in Wales, and it was no one’s
business to interfere.
A touching story of a lost parchment is told by one inspector. These
documents were not issued till after a period of probation, and if
results during that period were not satisfactory, the term might be
prolonged indefinitely. A London teacher, when her first chance came,
was unsuccessful; and when the next chance came she was more than
usually anxious. The inspection went smoothly: she began to hope: and
day after day she sat like Mariana, lamenting the delay. Then came
the joyful announcement that “the certificate of merit would shortly
be issued,” and she became more clamorous. It happened one day, that
illness kept her at home on the south side of the Thames, and she
sent strictest orders that, if the big envelope with official heading
arrived, it was to be locked up in the desk with special care. That
very day it came, and the assistant mistress in her friendly zeal
determined to disregard orders, and with her own hands to carry it to
her care-worn chief. It would do her more good than medicine.
She went by steamer up the Thames, Battersea way; and as it was a cold
day, she put the precious burden on her lap, and buried her hands
in her muff. There came a sudden gust, which lifted the big square
envelope, whirled it round, and tossed it into the river. And she was
left lamenting.
First the news had to be broken to the bereaved one. Like Tennyson’s
dame
“(She) wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was
born.”
She was frantic with grief, and her friends trembled for her intellect,
such as it was. But the assistant was a girl of much resourcefulness.
Her father was a prominent official in the body that looks after the
Thames: she went to him, and told the piteous tale. My colleague--but
he was an imaginative man--alleged that they dragged the river from
Teddington Lock to the Nore, but caught nothing. Finally it was decided
that a sea-gull had detected a meaty flavour beneath the paper cover
and had carried it off.
I am glad to say that after prolonged correspondence the Department
issued a duplicate.
Of all endorsements the most difficult to frame was the initial entry.
At the end of the term of probation the teacher had to give a formal
lesson on any topic or object that he chose: it was supposed to last
for twenty minutes, and H.M.I. was expected to sum up his opinion
of the lesson and of the teacher’s general capacity in one compact
sentence. Very often one disregarded the formal lesson, for the teacher
might be all but speechless with fright, and the verdict had to be
based on the general results of the year’s work.
In one such case I was in great doubt. The mistress was very young and
very pretty. She had light hair and blue eyes, and it follows that
she was very nervous. I cannot say that her school did very well.
I think it was deficient in Arithmetic: but she was very charming.
Should the parchment be issued? My Assistant was susceptible, and
soft-hearted: he pleaded for her: she was all alone in this country
school: her Certificate examination at Whitelands--one of the leading
Colleges--showed that she had plenty of brains: she had done her
best, and she would improve. Finally I gave way, and suggested as the
endorsement: “Miss X. is a pretty fair teacher.” He agreed rapturously,
and so it was written. But the next year my chief visited the school,
and according to custom called for the parchment. And (so the assistant
told me) when he read the entry, and caught sight of the “pretty, fair”
one in front of her class, it smote him suddenly, and he retreated
hastily to the Infants’ class-room.
All endorsements are now abolished; I am not sure whether there is even
a parchment certificate. It is many years since I saw one.
Oh, Miss O’Flaherty! do you remember your _bon mot_ at St. Petronius’
school? I asked, you know, whether you had any poetry to say as part of
the examination for your certificate, and you replied with a twinkle of
your Irish eyes: “I’ve got all the certificates I want--(and you added
softly)--except one.”