Until a visiting teacher went to his home and found his mother dying
of cancer, Nello nursing her and the three younger children, and the
father sharing his morning beer with the undersized boy. The
schoolroom tantrum was understood then. Nello was sent to the
country.
]
This story of Ivan is a good illustration of what the school can do to
help prevent the little trees from being so harshly trodden upon. It is
also a good illustration of the manner in which they can do it. For it
is one of the most promising signs of our times that our conception of
the process called education is a constantly broadening one. It is no
longer enough to teach children to read, write and cipher, even to draw,
cook and sew. We have been in the past contented with the dictum that
the public schools exist in order to abolish illiteracy, but now we are
inclined to take the fuller meaning which, surprisingly enough, the
dictionary gives: “to educate is to qualify for the business and duties
of life.” Up to now, unfortunately, the dictionary has not been followed
with too great care. Much time has been lost and from the results of
this loss we are now suffering. In our new vision, the schools must not
only train children toward constructive citizenship, but must do what
they can to prevent the development of destructive citizens, must help
in overcoming completely the original anti-social condition into which
psychologists tell us children are born.
Industrial teaching and vocational guidance through the public schools
should do much to bring about this training toward constructive
citizenship. But for the equally important task of prevention some
preliminary work must be done. Obstacles must be removed. Those who can
profit by such training must be sifted out from those who cannot, and
through the schools we must fit by some preliminary process, those who
at first sight seem unfit. For in the schools are often found the
beginning of all the bitter problems with which our strongest
philanthropic organizations are struggling so manfully. “Millions for
cure, nothing for prevention” sometimes seems to express pretty clearly
where the emphasis has been placed in the past. The schools can help
greatly if they would get back behind the present situation, and
discuss, point out, and if necessary, perform these acts of prevention.
What does all this mean? It means that social service must come to be
regarded as a justifiable function of the schools, as justifiable as it
has already become in the case of at least two other institutions.
Upwards of twenty years ago a militant clergyman in New York is quoted
as having said: “It is all very well to talk of saving souls, but I
never yet have seen a soul that was not connected with a body.” At that
time religious work was confined much more closely than it now is within
certain traditional limits, and these ringing words did much to turn the
attention of the churches toward their old ideal of social service.
A later grafting of the spirit of social service on long established
practices is shown in the progress of hospital social service. What
first opened the eyes of the medical profession is not recorded, but it
was soon proven that the assurance given to a woman at the hospital that
her children were being well cared for in her absence hastened her
recovery, and that the visits of a wise and sympathetic nurse or trained
social worker to the home of a discharged patient almost always
succeeded in preventing that patient’s return because of a relapse due
to carelessness or ignorance. A physician in a large Boston hospital
where the social service is famous for its completeness and efficiency
has said that a good social service nurse saves her salary twice over by
the cures she hastens and the returns she prevents.
There is a tradition in this country on which we greatly pride
ourselves, that education, at least in certain of its fundamental
branches, is free to all who wish to avail themselves of the opportunity
afforded by the state. Indeed, we go so far in most of our states as to
make it not only free but compulsory between certain ages. But look
carefully through any large school and many a small one, and you will
find children who would gladly partake of this free education but who
for many reasons, and through no fault of their own, are unable to do
so. Children who sit idly in school or stumble blindly through a grade
or two, and children whose names are finally taken from the register
because for them no place in school can be made. And so we come to see
that our free education is for those fortunate ones who are fitted for
it, while for others it is practically non-existent. You can compel a
child to go to school, but you cannot compel him to profit by his stay
there.
The story of Nello is a pathetic illustration of this. Here was a boy of
eleven, pitifully small for his age, who had been placed in an ungraded
class, and was disturbing the class and distracting the teacher by his
utter badness. A visitor was asked to investigate the home conditions
and find out a possible explanation for his incorrigibility. She found
ample cause. Nello’s mother was dying of cancer. His father was a heavy
drinker, often out of work, who shared his beer with the small boy
instead of getting proper food for him each morning. Nello was the only
nurse his mother and the three younger children had, and his burden of
responsibility gave him no other outlet except the schoolroom tantrum. A
nurse and proper food were secured. The two youngest children were
placed temporarily in an institution. Nello was taken to a doctor who
said that the boy was permanently dwarfed because of his alcoholic diet,
and the father was induced to discontinue this and give him milk
instead. With better food and some time in the country it may be proved
that Nello is only temporarily dwarfed mentally, even if his physical
state is permanent. In any event, with the burden, too great for his
narrow shoulders, finally removed the boy is now doing well in school
and his future is not hopeless.
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