* * * * *
Shun interviews with parents, mothers especially, as you would the
plague. Leave this privilege to the head-master, who is paid handsomely
for these little drawbacks to his position. If they invite you to
dinner, do not fall into the snare, but remember that a previous
engagement prevents you from having the pleasure of accepting their
kind invitation. Never enter into correspondence with them on the
subject of "their dear boy." If, to inflict scruples on your
conscience, they should enclose a stamped envelope, give a penny to the
first beggar you meet on leaving school. Relieve the conscience, but,
whatever you do, don't answer.
* * * * *
Always pretend you have not seen a breach of discipline when you are
not quite sure about the offender, or, when sure, you can not bring a
clear charge against him. You have no time for investigations.
Wait for another chance. A boy never rests upon an unpunished offence.
Offence and punishment should be exchanged like shots.
No credit: cash.
* * * * *
If you correct little boys' copies yourself, you will find that you
have undertaken a long and wearisome task that brings no result. When
you return these copies, they are received with thanks, folded up,
carefully pocketed, and never looked at again. Make the boys reserve a
good wide margin for the corrections. Underline all their mistakes,
and, under your eyes, make them correct the mistakes themselves.
* * * * *
However well up you may be in your subjects, you are sure to find
yourself occasionally tripping. The derivation of a certain word will
escape you for a moment, or the right translation of another will not
come to your mind quickly enough. With grown-up and intelligent young
fellows in advanced classes, no need to apologise. But with little boys
you must remember that you are an oracle. Never for a moment let them
doubt your infallibility; call up all the resources of your ingenuity,
and find a way out of the difficulty. So a good actor, whose memory
fails him for the time, calls upon his imagination to supply its place.
And must not any man, who would gain and keep the ear of a mixed
audience, be a bit of an actor, let his theatre be the hustings, the
church, or the class-room? Has not a master to appear perfectly cross
when he is perfectly cool, or perfectly cool when he is perfectly
cross? Is not this acting?
It once fell to my unhappy lot to be requested to take an arithmetic
class twice a week, during the temporary absence of a mathematical
master. In my youth I was a little of a mathematician, but figures I
was always bad at. As for English sums, with their bewildering
complications of pounds, shillings, pence, and farthings, which that
practical people still fondly cling to, it has always been a subject of
wonder to me how the English themselves do them. How I piloted those
dear boys through Bills of Parcels I don't know; but it is a fact that
we got on pretty well till we reached "Stocks." Here my path grew very
thorny.
One morning the boys all came with the same sad story. None had been
able to do one of the sums I had given them from the book. They had all
tried; their brothers had tried; their fathers had tried; not one could
do it.
A short look at it convinced me that I should have no more chance of
success than all those Britons, young and old, but it would never do to
let my pupils know this. They must suppose that those few moments had
been sufficient for me to master the sum in. So, assuming my most
solemn voice, I said:
"Why, boys, do you mean to tell me you can not do such a simple sum as
this?"
"No, we can't, sir," was the general cry.
"Why, Robinson, not even you?" I said to the top boy. "I always
considered you a sharp lad. Jones, you cannot? Nor Brown? Well, well;
it's too bad."
And, putting on a look of pitying contempt--which must have been quite
a success, to judge by the dejection written on the faces before me--I
proceeded to give them a little lecture on their arithmetical
shortcomings. I felt saved. It was near the time for dismissing the
class.
"Boys," said I, to finish up, "I must have been sadly mistaken in you;
the best thing we can do is to go back to addition and subtraction
to-morrow."
Without being quite so hard as that upon them, I set them an easy task
for the next lesson; the bell rang, and the boys dispersed.
I immediately went to the head mathematical master, and had the
difficulty explained away in a few seconds.
How simple things are when they are explained, to be sure!
Armed with a new insight into Stocks, I was ready for my young friends
the following Friday. After the ordinary work had been got through:
"Now," I said, "have you had another try at that sum, any of you?"
"Yes, sir; but we can't do it," was the reply.
"Well," I said, in a relenting tone, as I went to the blackboard, "I
suppose we had better do it together."
I made the boys confess it was too stupid of them to have proved
unequal to this _simple_ sum; and thus they regained my good
graces.
Later in the day I received the glad tidings that the master I replaced
was better (goodness knows if I had prayed for the return of his
health!). He was to have his boys next time.
Thus was I enabled to retire from the field with flying colors.
* * * * *
If you do not love boys, never be a school-master. If you love boys and
wish to become a school-master, see that you are a good disciplinarian,
or take _Punch's_ advice to those about to marry:
"Don't."