It was no longer a task to keep "Dodd" in school. He went every day,
rain or shine, and was always eager to go. Moreover, he studied well
and learned rapidly. The multiplication table, that had been the bane
of his school life, up to date, and which, under the stupid management
of Amos Waughops and the over-wrought Grube methods of Miss Stone, had
floored him in every tussle he had had with it, now grew tractable and
docile, a creature subservient to his will and quick to do his bidding,
unhesitatingly.
And what wonder, when Amy taught him this early work in numbers by use
of his memory rather than his reason; using a faculty that is strong at
this period of life, rather than one which has hardly begun to sprout?
Did you ever think of that, dear devotee at the shrine of Grube, or
Brother Harris, or all the rest of the train who insist that a child's
reason should "develop" largely before he has finished the first decade
of his existence?
These wise ones lay down a law (take up almost any printed course of
study, nowadays, and you will find it all spread out in the first and
second years' work) that every number must be mastered, in all its
possible arrangements and combinations, from the very first time it is
taken up. Thus, one must be considered in all its possible
correlations to all the universe, and the Almighty Himself, before two
can be touched! So, as soon as the youth strikes a simple unit that
ought to come to him like an old friend, he is straightway packed off
to the ends of the earth with the digit and made to stand it up
alongside of all manner of things, in the heavens above and, the earth
beneath, and even in the waters under the earth. The little fellow
tramps, and trudges, and compares, and contrasts, and divides, and
combines, and eliminates, and expels, and extracts, and subtracts, and
retracts, and contracts, and what not, until finally, he gets all mixed
up and concludes that he never can know anything about it at all, and
the dear old "one," that came to him at first as such a simple thing,
is so tangled up with all creation that he gives it up as an entirely
unknown and unknowable quantity, and begins to guess at it and when he
comes to that point, look out! He has taken the first step in
recklessness, and has begun his initial work as a liar!
You don't believe this? Then sit down to the following, which I clip
from the "second year's work" in a "course of study" that lies before
me:
"Learn to count to 100, forward and back, by 1's, 2's, 3's, 4's, 5's,
6's, 7's, 8's, and 9's, beginning to count from 0, and also from each
digit, respectively, up to the one used continuously, in each case."
Just buckle down to this for a while and see how it goes. See how long
it will take you to master even a tithe of this, so that you can do it,
even passably well, and then compare your own powers of mind with those
of the child that you would fain cram with this "course" and see if
there is not a reason why the children do not take to this "method."
I know what you will say, at least to yourselves. "I have no time for
such a pile of rubbish." You say well. Neither have the children time
for it.
But Amy knew nothing of Grube, thank heaven, and gave none of it to
"Dodd." He learned to read better than ever, learned to spell, and
took pride in standing at the head of his class. He plucked flowers
for his teacher as he went to school, and his cheeks flushed as she
took them from his band and set them in the glass tumbler on the table.
He even thought in his little heart, betimes, that, when he got grown
up, he would marry Amy! Rather young for such ideas? Perhaps so; but
these ideas begin to develop, often, when boys are very young. They
don't say anything about it, out loud; but away down in the deep
hiding-places of the heart--oh, well, we all know how it is, and what
an influence such notions may have upon our lives.
But for all of these things "Dodd" Weaver was still "Dodd" Weaver, and
there were times when he suffered a relapse from his high estate. One
of these times came as follows:
It was a sultry forenoon in May, and "Dodd" was restless and uneasy.
He fidgeted about in his seat, teased the boy in front of him, and
tripped up a little fellow who passed him on the way to a class. His
teacher watched him for some time, and, at the last offense, concluded
that it was best to give the boy a bit of attention. She came down to
his desk and said:
"It's a bad kind of a morning for boys, isn't it, 'Dodd'?"
The boy hung his head a little, and Amy proceeded:
"Come here to the door a minute; I want to show you something."
"Dodd" wondered what was wanted, but arose, as he was bidden, and went
to the door,
"Do you see that tree, away down the road?" said Amy, pointing to a
large maple that was more than a quarter of a mile away.
"Dodd" said that he saw the object pointed out.
"Well, now, I want you to start here and run to that tree just as fast
as you can, and then turn right around and run back again, and I'll
stand right here all the time and watch you, and see how long it takes
you to go and come;" and she drew out her watch as she spoke.
"Dodd" looked at her for an instant, but the next moment he was off
with a bound and ran his best, both going and coming. He returned
presently, having made most excellent time. Amy told him how many
minutes he had been gone, and bade him take his seat. The boy was a
little in doubt as to just why he was called on to perform this feat;
but, between pondering over the affair and being tired from his race,
he was a good boy all the rest of the morning! The girl had simply
given the child a chance to work off his superfluous animal spirits,
and, with this quantity reduced to a safety limit, he was himself again.
What a pity there are not more teachers who appreciate the value of a
safety-valve!
The incident is but one of a score that illustrate the resources of Amy
Kelly in the management of "Dodd" Weaver. She was always taking the
boy by surprise. He was wayward and wilful at times, but her genius
was equal to the emergency. She won him by her divine power to do just
that thing, as her class always does, and as none others can. She was
born to teach, or with the teaching faculty--with a genius for that
work; and her success was marked from the first. She did for "Dodd"
Weaver in a single term more than all the former years had done; she
made a record in his character that will never be effaced.
And do not say that I have overdrawn this picture, either. Don't turn
up your noses, my dears, because this girl came from a very humble and
unpretentious Irish family. I tell you, genius has a way of its own,
and there is no accounting for it. It was a good while ago that a
conservative old Pharisee thought that he had forever silenced the
followers of the greatest Genius the world ever saw by putting at them
the conundrum, "Can any good come out of Nazareth?" But good did come
out of that barren country in spite of the conundrum! And so it keeps
on doing, constantly. It comes from other places, too, and that is all
right. The point is that we want to open our eyes and see it, no
matter where it comes from.
Amy Kelly was a godsend to "Dodd" Weaver. She came to him through the
medium of a country school. She won the boy as such teachers always do
win boys, and always will win them; and her reward ought to be great.
It was only twenty-five dollars a month, reckoned on the order book of
"deestrick four," but there is no telling what it will be on the "other
side." But such as Amy can afford to wait for that.