Boys lose their charm when they get fifteen or sixteen years of age.
The clever ones, no doubt, become more interesting to the teacher, but
they no longer belong to the _genus_ boy that you love for his very
defects as much as for his good qualities.
I call "boys" that delightful, lovable race of young scamps from eleven
to fourteen years old. At that age all have redeeming points, and all
are lovable. I never objected to any, except perhaps to those who aimed
at perfection, especially the ones who were successful in their
efforts.
For my part, I like a boy with a redeeming fault or two.
By "boys" I mean little fellows who manage, after a game of football,
to get their right arm out of order, that they may be excused writing
their exercises for a week or so; who do not work because they have an
examination to prepare, but because you offer them an inducement to do
so, whether in the shape of rewards, or maybe something less pleasant
you may keep in your cupboard.