In all the decades prior to the one ushered in by 1910, there was not
a state, county, city or school district which had as its purpose the
absolute removal of illiteracy. When the startling announcement was
made by the census-takers at the beginning of the new decade that five
and a half million men and women in the Nation had confessed that they
could not read or write, there was nowhere an expression of shame or
pity or even of surprise. It was accepted as a thing inevitable--the
waste product of an inefficient school system. Even the press, usually
alert and looking for unusual conditions to exploit, found nothing
worth featuring in these tragic figures.
There was a vagueness and confusion in the public mind as to the term
illiteracy and what constituted it, where the boundary line between
literacy and illiteracy was fixed. Not one person out of ten in the
United States could define illiteracy. Few had thought of it at all
or had taken occasion to familiarize themselves with the term. It was
such an unfamiliar one that the first Illiteracy Commission had to
impress itself, to explain itself--its very name, repeatedly. Forestry
commissions and fish and game commissions were familiar enough but
one which had as its purpose to redeem men and women from illiteracy
was a foreign and unintelligible thing. The public, in general, knew
little of the baneful effects of illiteracy on the individual or the
community. Searching the files of educational reports we find no
addresses on this subject, and on the shelves of the public libraries
there was nothing to be found save a few statistical reports in
scientific journals. The man who made his mark aroused no more concern
than the one who wrote his signature. Nowhere in all history is there a
record of more general apathy having settled down on a crying need or
a worthy cause.
The example of a few states leading out in the early part of the
decade in a crusade against illiteracy without federal oversight or
aid, without funds from the state and with but little public sentiment
aroused, and the readiness with which state after state recognized the
need, sought the remedy and fell into line, is one of the most hopeful
chapters in educational history.
The moonlight school has as its avowed purpose the removal of
illiteracy. It has its secondary aims and its indirect results, but
until illiteracy is banished it must remain devoted to the one idea of
redeeming illiterates--of freeing them from their bondage.
This purpose was being fulfilled when the first three illiterates in
Rowan County learned to read and write and when the first district
banished illiteracy and it is being fulfilled today wherever, through
its influence and example, adult illiterates are being emancipated.
When the first three illiterates learned to read and write, the
representatives of those three classes--the illiterate mother, the man
in his prime and the youth with all of life opening out before him--it
was an evidence that all illiterates of normal mentality could be
redeemed. The first few who learned served to show the possibility, the
practicability and the ease with which knowledge could be imparted to
all the rest.
To con over the fascinating figures of illiterates redeemed in the
various counties of some states in their initial campaigns is an
inspiring thing, and is an earnest of what a few more years of effort
with more means, trained leaders and better methods will bring about.
Leslie County, Kentucky, in its initial campaign in 1915, taught 600 to
read and write; Tattnall County, Georgia, emancipated 600 in a campaign
of two years. Santa Fé County, New Mexico, taught 1,549, the majority
of them being illiterates. All three were pioneering. What more hopeful
record of educational progress can one contemplate than is to be found
in the report of the Georgia Illiteracy Commission, prepared by its
Secretary, State Superintendent M. L. Brittain, a few months after the
illiteracy campaign began in that state.
Number of illiterates taught to read and write:
Tellfair County, 500; Washington County, 555; Fulton County, 632;
Muscogee County, 638; Bibb County, 665.
One turns to the record in Kentucky to the reports of county school
superintendents, and these are some of the figures that give assurance
that the moonlight school is fulfilling its purpose.
Number taught to read and write during a period of four years prior
to 1920:
Bath County, 750; Clay County, 900; Bell County, 1,000; Magoffin
County, 1,400; Floyd County, 1,600.
How much more fruitful could one expect any campaign to be than that
which was started to teach the illiterates of North Carolina in 1914,
and shortly afterward reported 10,000 taught to read and write? The
purpose of the moonlight schools was fulfilled in this 10,000 redeemed
from illiteracy, in the 17,892 taught in Georgia’s opening campaign,
in the 25,000 that Alabama taught in a few years’ time and in the
thousands emancipated by other states. In all these the moonlight
school was achieving its purpose and pointing the way to the ultimate
goal--the elimination of illiteracy from the Nation.
Not in all the states have the schools for illiterates borne the name
of moonlight schools. Some after successfully launching the movement
under this name adopted names suited to their peculiar conditions, such
as the “The Lay-By Schools” of South Carolina, “The Adult Schools” of
Alabama, “The Community Schools” of North Carolina and the “Schools
for Grown-ups” of Georgia. In some of the states the plan and purpose
were adopted but not the name. Eventually when these schools are firmly
wedded to the public-school system they may all take the prosaic name
of evening schools, just as the “Old Field Schools of the South” and
other pioneers of the day school system became known as the public or
common schools.
In their first wave of enthusiasm, some of the states set a high goal.
No less than six of them had as their aim to wipe out illiteracy by
1920. This would have been easily possible with some had funds been
promptly provided and the co-operation of the whole people given in
fullest measure. As it was, it was possible to set many illiterates
free and to place before the people the ideal of removing illiteracy
from a definite place within a given time. A worthy goal is a great
inspiration, and none who strove to wipe illiteracy out of a definite
section by 1920 will give up in despair because they arrived only half
or one-third of the way. “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp,” says
Browning. “Or what’s a Heaven for?” Those who realized even a portion
of their aim now see how humane, patriotic and practical it is to
redeem the adult illiterates and will simply set their mark ahead and
“run their race with patience,” expecting to make the finish before
the next decade. North Dakota, which has but a few thousands to
redeem, has well set the year 1924 as the time when it will be clear of
illiteracy, while Pennsylvania, with tremendous numbers, wisely gives
herself ten years to finish the task.
Victor Hugo says, “There is something that is mightier than armies,
and that is an idea whose time has come.” The moonlight school in
1911 advanced the idea that illiteracy could be wiped out of a given
locality within a given time. It is an idea that has taken such firm
hold on the public mind that nothing less than the emancipation of
every illiterate will satisfy the public conscience. The removal of
illiteracy is now the fixed purpose of the Nation.
The National Educational Association, the greatest influence in
educational affairs of the United States, has accepted the idea and has
made the removal of illiteracy the first provision in its educational
program for America. This association now has its illiteracy
commission, the National Council of Education, the General Federation
of Women’s Clubs and other great national organizations have their
illiteracy committees, appointed for one purpose--to wipe illiteracy
out of the Nation. Many of the Governors have urged in their messages
to the Legislature or in their inaugural addresses that the state
will undertake to immediately redeem all of its illiterates. In the
presidential campaign of 1920 the eradication of illiteracy was a
reform written into the platform of one of the two major parties and
urged by the candidates of both parties as one of the tasks to which
the Nation must apply itself.
The idea of eradicating illiteracy has taken firm hold of the Nation’s
leaders. Congressman Horace M. Towner, of Iowa, in making the report of
the Committee on Education to the National House of Representatives,
said of the first county that had attacked illiteracy: “This experiment
conclusively shows that it is possible to bring help to illiterate men
and women even under the most adverse circumstances. It demonstrates
the fact that under proper leadership and under proper direction adult
illiteracy is easily and quickly wiped out.”
Champ Clark and Ollie James, both former Kentucky school teachers,
had the spirit of comradeship with the moonlight school teachers and
found many ways of aiding and encouraging them in their gallant fight
on illiteracy, while William Jennings Bryan crowned the teachers with
these words spoken in an address at Raleigh, North Carolina: “If
there are any who have ever realized these words of the Master, ‘It
is more blessed to give than to receive,’ it must be the teachers of
the moonlight schools.” President Wilson stopped his work one busy day
to write and commend a Kentucky moonlight school teacher who had won
a Congressman’s prize for teaching the best moonlight school in his
Congressional district. This letter, accompanied by the President’s
picture, was a commendation of all moonlight school teachers and the
idea for which they stood just as President Lincoln’s letter to Mrs.
Bixby was a letter glorifying all mothers who had given sons in the
Civil War.
All of the agitation against adult illiteracy, in which the moonlight
school has been the pioneer and dramatic factor, has made illiteracy
appear as a disgraceful and unpopular thing. There is an odium attached
to it to-day that was lacking in the years gone by. Illiteracy has been
stigmatized where the crusade against it has been waged and made to
seem a thing to flee from as from leprosy. One who makes his mark is
not now ignored or overlooked, but in many communities and in most of
the states he is a subject of deep concern. His act will scarcely be
passed by without discussion. Those who observe him in this act will
relate his story with all its pathos and the disgrace connected with
it and will not fail to apply the moral. The result is usually the
supplying of the unfortunate with books and teaching him to read and
write.
There are communities to-day that feel a sense of responsibility for
teaching every illiterate, and for doing it within a brief and definite
time. There are some districts that feel illiteracy to be a reproach
under which they cannot rest. Governor Henry J. Allen, of Kansas, who
made an investigation of the moonlight schools, wrote in a magazine
article as follows:
Two men met on a mountain pathway, and began to talk about how soon
their county would be “Cleared up.” They were not referring to weeds
or underbrush or timber, to insects, reptiles or malarial fever.
They were referring to the elimination of illiteracy. Nothing just
like it has found expression in any educational system, in any
age; the sureness of faith of those who teach, the simplicity of
their efforts, the general response. I have seen three generations
studying the same books in one moonlight school. “There are 2,442
illiterates in the county,” said a man to me in one of the counties
in the Cumberland Mountains. “It will take two years to wipe out
illiteracy.” Think of the calm faith of it! I believe that the story
of the moonlight schools is the most exalted and sacrificial that has
been told in the educational effort of America.
The newspapers now find a fertile field in illiteracy statistics and
have come to devote space and headlines to them, giving them ranking
interest with the most vital things of the day. The purpose of the
moonlight school is so outstanding that it has captured the pens of
cartoonists. These have vividly pictured illiteracy in all its evil,
its weakness and its disgrace. It is only a matter of time until poets,
sculptors and artists will here find a theme for their art.
The change of attitude toward adult illiteracy has not come about
without some resistance, some opposition, of course. Where such
indifference and such ignorance prevailed in regard to a subject
it could hardly be expected that reform could move forward without
some interference and obstacles. Some educated people had no more
intelligent idea, at the outset, about removing illiteracy, than
had a certain old colored professor in Mississippi when the crusade
was started in that state. The teachers in their examinations were
asked the question, “How rid the state of adult illiteracy?” and the
professor wrote this answer: “The only way to rid the state of adult
illiteracy is to get rid of the adults. You should not have adults
around your place or anywhere. As long as you have adults around,
you’ll always have illiteracy.”
The education of the educated to the problem of illiteracy has been no
small part of the crusade. The pioneers had to educate themselves as to
the nature and scope of the problem and the plan of attack, to educate
the public to co-operate--some to contribute funds, a larger group
to give service, and the whole public to give their moral support.
The public had to be brought under indictment for the illiteracy
statistics, which, viewed in bulk for state and Nation, had seemed
too stupendous to arouse a feeling of responsibility in community or
individual, but when analyzed and presented for counties and local
communities produced an entirely different effect. The right of adult
illiterates to learn had been challenged, their ability to do so had
been questioned, the advisability of having teachers assume the extra
duty of teaching them had been doubted, the statistics, when analyzed
and brought close to home had been disputed and resented; demagogues
had assumed that any reference to the illiteracy of the state or
community meant to traduce it, professional politicians had gloried in
holding the purse-strings of the public treasury as tight as possible
against any invasion for such a cause, and a few educators so violently
opposed illiterates being taught to read and write that it brought
forth from a layman the caustic comment, “The greatest trouble with
some educators is that they are so opposed to education.”
The illiterates themselves had to be educated to an understanding of
their opportunity. Not everyone came rushing out to school in every
district when the schools first opened. An institution so new as a
school where illiterate adults could learn to read and write may easily
be misunderstood, criticized and even resented by those who need it
most. Considering the mistaken attitude of the educated for generations
past on the question of teaching them, it is not at all strange
that some of the illiterates, themselves, with minds so befogged and
darkened, should have had doubts and misconceptions of the school
and what it would do for them. My father, himself a former school
teacher, but later a physician, greeted me once in the early days of
the movement with the remark, “What fool thing is this you are doing?
I hear that you have old Jimmie Thomas and old Dicie Carter going to
school.”
His was the viewpoint, at the time, of the average educated man. That
illiterates could overcome their fears and their pride with such
sentiments being expressed around them is a credit both to them and to
the teachers who persuaded them that it was within their power to learn
to read and write.
The change in the public attitude toward illiteracy in the states that
have had campaigns has been eminently worth while. Alabama realized
this when her progressive program of school legislation passed so
readily due to the awakened public sentiment brought about by her
crusade; Kentucky was in no mood to provide special officers to
enforce her lax and inadequate compulsory attendance laws until the
illiteracy campaign had swept over the state and shown her how foul and
frightful a thing was illiteracy in either child or adult. Arkansas
and other states that wage war on illiteracy talk of it “awakening an
educational conscience.” This is one of the purposes of the moonlight
school--to awaken the educated to their responsibility, to create in
them a desire to redeem the illiterates, as well as to arouse the
illiterates to seek their freedom. All of this means more than freeing
a state from illiteracy. It means a new appreciation of education, a
devotion to it which will not cease with the illiteracy crusade, but
will affect the public school system from the elementary school to the
university. You cannot teach the illiterates of the district to read
and write without increasing the educational spirit of the community
and improving the school advantages of the children. You cannot start
the educated out on a crusade to redeem their illiterate neighbors
without arousing in them a sentiment for better education for their own
and their neighbors’ children and for better educational conditions
throughout the system for future generations.
The moonlight school movement does not assume to be an educational
regeneration. It assumes but one duty and that is to redeem the
illiterates. Its by-products, however, are increased attendance in the
day schools, increased interest in school improvement, intelligent
support of progressive legislation and other things that vitalize and
help the schools. Some who have no vision of a community redeemed
from illiteracy and no sympathy with the illiterates are often heard
to remark, “The best result of the moonlight school is its effect on
day-school attendance.” A thing must first have a good direct effect
before it can produce a good indirect one. Teachers declare that the
moonlight schools increase day-school attendance all the way from ten
to thirty per cent, but the moonlight schools could not accomplish
this did they not achieve their primary purpose, that of teaching the
illiterates to read and write.
In 1910 there was not a law on the statute books of any of the states
referring to adult illiteracy. In 1920 there were laws providing for
the teaching of adult illiterates; laws providing salaries for teachers
to teach them; laws providing for training of teachers of adult
illiterates; laws compelling illiterates of certain ages to learn, and
laws providing for their instruction at home or in factory, mill or
mine.
The spirit behind these laws could not and never will be fully
translated into legislative acts. The determination of the illiteracy
crusaders in the different states is like that of the colonists in
the American Revolution. When the English Secretary urged an increase
of troops in Boston until their guns outnumbered the Americans, Pitt
declared, “We must reckon not so much with their guns as with their
sentiments of liberty.” The emancipation of all the illiterates in
the United States is not a dream of the far future. The challenge to
liberate them has been answered by leaders all over the nation with
the slogan, “No illiteracy in the United States in 1930.”
The secondary purpose of the moonlight school--to afford an opportunity
to the near-illiterate and the half-uneducated--may, when illiteracy
is vanquished, become its primary and most practical one. All over the
land there are many who dream of completing their education some time,
and even the well-educated will not scorn the opportunity to improve. A
Kentucky woman of forty who was a graduate of a well-known college, was
asked this question, “If you had your choice of all the good things of
life, what would it be?” “I’d rather go to school,” she said. She lived
in one of the most cultured communities, but she expressed the wish
for a moonlight school to be established, saying, “I’d like to review
my American history and if nobody will teach the class I’ll teach it
myself for the sake of the review.” There are many like this woman
who would choose a term in school to every other blessing. While they
have paid school taxes and hungered for educational opportunities,
the school plant has remained closed for all but six hours of the day
during a brief school term in many communities. There are 8,760 hours
in a year and the school plant is open only 960 of these hours in some
districts, where only six-months schools are conducted, a tremendous
waste in the school plant, but a greater one in human intellect and
aspirations.
A day school in every community! Once it was a doubtful experiment, but
now it is an established institution and forever so. It has come up
through trials, tribulations and struggles innumerable. A night school
in every community! If it is an educated community, a night school
for more education, for culture and specialization; if an illiterate
community, for the emancipation of the illiterates and their new birth
into the realms of knowledge and power!
The public school should be as liberal in its policy as is in the
church. It has no right to say to men and women, “If you embrace me
not before a certain age or before a certain hour in the day I will
close my doors to you forever.” The hour of a man’s opportunity should
be any hour in which he awakens to his need whether it be at the age of
six or a hundred and six.