Chapter IV: Introduction (1)

HAVE THE SCHOOLS BEEN DISCREDITED BY THE REVELATIONS OF THE WAR?

_From School and Society, April 5, 1919_

Knowing that I was about to publish a book on education in which the Great War, now happily closed, was not taken as the point of departure, a friend said to me one day, in substance, "Aren't you taking undue risks just now in putting out a book on education that isn't based upon a program of reconstruction? Haven't all our so-called educational principles been dis-credited? Shall you get any readers if you do not admit educational failure thus far, and proceed to discuss a change of front, made imperative by recent revelations?" And the editor of a well known educational journal, in asking me for an article, recently, said, among other things, "I should be glad to have an article upon some phase of reconstruction after the war, educational, social, philosophical, as you may like. Here is the next great battlefield of the future, and if the educational forces do not redeem themselves here, it is my opinion that we shall become a greater laughing stock than we have ever been before."

To both of these statements I desire to take exception. To be sure, the war has taught us many lessons bearing upon education; to be sure, it has revealed shortcomings, limitations, and weaknesses. But it seems to me that it has also made clear that we have been working along right lines. Our fundamental educational principles have not been dis-credited. There is no far-reaching educational failure to admit, nor is there any serious shortcoming from which the educational forces of the country have to redeem themselves. "Laughing stock," does the gentleman say? Oh no! Far from it! Let us not get panicky! Some weaknesses brought to light? Certainly. But in the analysis, later to be made, let us see if, for the most part, they do not but demonstrate the soundness of our educational principles and the far-sightedness of our educational leaders together with the short-sightedness of the present critics, in that had suggested recommendations been followed these weaknesses would not have existed. Let us give here but one illustration, and that briefly. We all admit that the medical examinations for the war found too many physical defects, and too many men thereby incapacitated for efficient military service. But would not the results have been very different if, during the last generation, the suggestions and strong recommendations of educators relative to physical education in our schools been acted upon by the public? Ah! The fault was not with educational principles; they were sound. The educational forces of the country knew what was needed, but a parsimonious public would not follow intelligent leadership. We could say, all along the line, "I told you so," if we felt so inclined. Instead of being the "laughing stock" we could--if the matter were not too serious--throw the laugh upon the other fellow. The purpose of our schools has never been to produce soldiers at the drop of the hat, and so they have never been blighted by military training. (May it never come!) Their task has been to produce men and women of character and purpose and ideals--men and women of initiative who could become anything called for by an emergency. And nobly have they succeeded, as evidenced by the successful prosecution of the war.

In view of all that the United States has done to assist in bringing the war to its successful close, from the adoption of the selective draft down thru the management of the training camps, the operation of the railroads, conservation of food and fuel, to the knitting of a pair of socks and the sale of a thrift stamp, what shall be said of the success or failure of our schools? Every man, woman, and child in this gigantic work, from President Wilson down to the colored bootblack who saved his nickels to buy a stamp, or to the little girl who voluntarily went without her sugar, has been a product of the schools. Thru the instruction, the discipline, and the training given in those schools, they became the men and women who could rise to the emergency and do the things needed. And they did.

No college or university or professional school ever taught Mr. Wilson how to be President of the United States during these troublous days; nor Mr. McAdoo how to manage the railroads; nor Mr. Pershing all about war; nor any local worker how to lead the Red Cross work, any more than the lower schools have taught the boys who went into the trenches how to use the gas mask and how to go without food; how to shoulder arms and how to march. But the schools all along the line did help to give them ideals, did train them in team-play; did instil into them the principles of democracy and the love of country, so that when the need came they arose as one man to repel the foe. And the study of arithmetic, geography, and grammar; of chemistry, physics, and medicine; of Latin, Greek, and history has, in each case, made its contribution to the preparation of home workers, soldiers, scientific experts, financial managers, and statesmen--has helped to make each an individual of initiative.

Under the guidance of our educational leaders, following principles that they had workt out, the schools of the country were moving quietly along, each one of the 750,000 teachers doing faithfully the work at hand day by day. We had never thought of war as a possibility for us, and of course preparation for it had not been made, in the slightest degree, a part of the work of the schools. But when war, with all its horrors, was finally forced upon us and we needed statesmen and scientists and military leaders to guide and direct, they were at hand in the graduates of our colleges and universities--broadly trained men capable of assimilating, or learning, or in other ways gaining quickly, the specific form of efficiency needed in the particular activity assigned. And when we needed soldiers they were at hand in the person of our boys of the schools, both common and high, from every nook and corner of the land--boys and men who merely needed direction and leadership, capable of at once falling into line and quickly taking on the professional phase of their training. Could we have asked our schools to do more? The supreme test had come, and it was being met in a manner gratifying to all. The boys and the girls, the men and the women, on the farm, in the store, in the home, in the workshop, in the schools and colleges, have responded "Here am I. Show me what you want me to do, and I will do it even unto death." It was done, and they did it. The schools had nobly demonstrated their efficiency.

To be sure, all this was not done without making mistakes. Not all the products of all the schools were able to rise to the occasion and to be depended upon in our hour of need. When the great national search-light was trained upon the product of the schools, seeking leaders of infinite variety and number, and likewise hosts of followers to do definite and difficult things, many deficient ones were discovered--some deficient in mental caliber, some weak in moral fiber, some lacking in physical stamina. And right here is to be seen the only serious failure of our schools. Not every boy, not every girl, had been made as efficient as could have been desired. But, happily, in our great numbers enough were found to do even the stupendous work at hand, and to do it well. In spite of moral lapses, not a few, in spite of instances of mental incompetence, far too many, and in spite of physical handicaps, distressingly large--in spite of all this, I say, the United States surprised the world with the quickness with which we pulled ourselves together, and with the marvelous efficiency with which we mobilized all our resources. Many losses of course there were--losses of men, losses of days, losses of dollars. But when all is said and done, the losses were slight when compared with the accomplishments. Credit to whom credit is due! But because of these losses unthinking men immediately began to criticise the schools. They should have been trade schools, or industrial schools or military schools--any kind of schools that they were not. And how clearly it was being demonstrated, we were told, that the time formerly spent on music and drawing, art and literature, algebra and geometry, history and Latin, had all been wasted! How much better it would have been if, instead of these "frills," the children had been given "practical subjects"! (Practical. Save the mark. One is tempted here to go off on a by-path and discuss the topic, "What is Practical?") Thus the criticism of the unthinking--of the laymen who went off at half-cock.

And this criticism was deepened and strengthened and extended and made more vehement, again by the unthinking, when the fine results of the Plattsburgh experiment were revealed, in which, thru the processes of intensive training, men were quickly whipt into shape for new, and difficult, and responsible undertakings. And the equally good results that came from the officers' training schools, in which college boys by a similar program were metamorphosed, almost at over-night, into capable army officers, had the same effect. How signally had the schools failed! And these long years spent in school and college, "dawdling over the frills," had been to no effect, whereas "a few weeks under _intelligent_ educational direction accomplishes marvels."

And the same has further illustration. Ministers of the Gospel selected for chaplains, physicians and surgeons chosen for medical service, nurses for the Red Cross, engineers for various forms of engineering, and many others have all been given this short period of intensive training and, to their credit and ours be it said, all responded quickly. But the conclusion drawn by the unthinking has been, all along the line, that the later efficiency of these men which has gained for us the plaudits and the gratitude of the world was due to this short period of intensive training, "under men who were intelligent enough to know just what was needed and just how to go about to secure it"--men not hampered by any pedagogical nonsense or grown stale over a long attempt to discriminate between the "infinity of nothingness and the nothingness of infinity" (as one might summarize a rather common criticism), rather than to the former years of patient toil, and discipline, and accomplishment which had really laid the foundation so well that all were able thus to respond. The common school, the high school, the college, and the professional school was dis-credited, one and all, in favor of a short-cut method analogous to the so-called "Business College,"--a short-cut method that could result only in disaster if applied without the appropriate preparation.

How long it does take people to realize that real education is a slow process! that it takes years and years and years of varied experiences for the processes of assimilation and development to bring about the fine fruitage of stable character!

And the Government, too (I suppose we can criticize Washington just a little now without serious danger of being sent to jail), must have had the same point of view in regard to the general management of education since, during the war, it did not entrust its educational war program into the hands of the National Bureau of Education. It did have the War Department and the Navy Department and the Treasury Department manage their respective phases of war activities. Why was not the Department of Education called on to direct the educational work? Had it been, the S. A. T. C. fiasco, as well as some other blunders, would doubtless have been avoided. But the thought (or was it the lack of thought?) must have been that most anybody outside of the teaching profession would know better how to get educational results than any one from within. A similar point of view is generally discernible in the election of boards of education in towns and cities thruout the country--any one is satisfactory save those who know definitely what should be going on inside of the school house.

Perhaps all this was to be expected. I rather think so. But I confess to surprise when I find such criticism being echoed from within--from men who should know better, as, for example, the two quoted at the beginning of this article. The explanation, I suppose, is that, timid in nature, they have become panicky and lost their bearings. Perhaps they were suffering from a mild form of brain-storm, and have temporarily slipt back into the ranks of the unthinking.

Let us analyze the situation and see if we can discover just what the war did reveal as to the short-*comings of our educational system. Let us then try to locate the responsibility.

One of the most serious of the educational shortcomings thus revealed is a high percentage of illiteracy--nearly eight per cent, I understand, the country over. The seriousness of such a situation can scarcely be overestimated. It was serious in time of war--the inability of a soldier to read orders, or to follow written directions, or to make written reports, especially when one takes into consideration the myriad forms of war service just recently used, would limit his possibilities of service and cripple himself and all his companions. But illiteracy is even more serious in times of peace, for then such individuals are not immediately under the direction of intelligent officers and thus prevented from the disastrous results of their own ignorant actions. Think for a moment of what it means in a democracy and for a democracy to have one out of every ten (disregarding children) of the possible directing forces of the government unable to read or write!

But when we add to this statement of mere illiteracy the fact that a large percentage of these illiterates are of foreign birth or extraction and have never learned either to speak or understand the language of their adopted country, the situation is seen to be even more serious in potentiality, both in peace and war. Our authorities have been too lax, it seems, in not requiring that all children of foreign extraction, whether foreign or American born, be educated in the English language. In communities thickly settled by alien peoples they have too often allowed the schools to be conducted in the vernaculars of the people--a German school here, an Austrian school there, and an Italian school over yonder, and so on. And it goes without saying that in schools in which children are instructed in alien tongues 'tis not the American spirit that is inculcated nor American ideals that take root. No one would challenge the statement that here is a defect in the execution of our educational program, and one that must be remedied at any cost.

Still another serious weakness as revealed by the merciless hand of war is that of physical shortcoming. A large number of men were rejected for service and a still larger number accepted only for limited service because of physical disability as shown by the medical examinations. I have not the figures at hand, but 'tis common knowledge that the situation is considered grave. Eye defects, ear defects, defective teeth, weak lungs, flat feet, round shoulders, spinal curvature, unsymmetrical development, and many other defects were discovered in great numbers. Perhaps nothing but a rigid medical examination by a military officer would ever have opened our eyes to the real situation. But this did. The revelations came as a surprise to nearly all except the educational leaders of the country. They have known, all the time, what the situation has been and, for a generation, have been trying to combat it.

Again the question is raised as to whether these defects, or weaknesses, of American education, in both fields mentioned, as serious as they have been seen to be for war, are not even a more serious menace when looked upon from the point of view of peace, and therefore, even tho the war has been won, of such commanding importance as to demand our immediate and continued attention.

One might go on and name other shortcomings in the working out of our educational program that have been more clearly brought to the surface during the critical days of our warfare. But this article is not intended to be a catalog. The two mentioned are fundamental and far-reaching. Illiteracy and physical disability! Weakness along these lines strikes at the very roots of national life and of individual well-being. And if, as a nation and as individuals, we are ever going to enter into our inheritance, these defects must be remedied. But before trying to discuss remedies, it will be well to locate responsibility. Are our basic educational principles unsound, or merely our educational practises unsatisfactory? Are the educational leaders of the country all wrong in theory? Have their heads been so high among the clouds that they have not seen the real boy and his homely task? Or have they seen clearly and mapt out wisely, whereas the public, relatively unthinking upon technical matters and always slow to act in new fields, has not been ready to follow? Is it in theory or in practise where the real shortcoming is to be found? The answer to the question is vital. If in theory, then is the situation serious indeed for that would mean that our psychology is wrong--that our whole philosophy of life and of government has been built upon error. Truly, then, after all these years, the "educational forces" would need to "redeem" themselves so as not to be "a greater laughing stock than we have ever been before." But if the weakness lies merely in our practise, not yet having been able to attain to our ideals, then, tho serious, it would be but child's play, comparatively speaking, to put ourselves right. We should need to take courage, redouble our efforts, and all that, but should not need to start all over again.

How shall we account for the illiteracy revealed among both alien and native born? Not by faulty methods of teaching can it be explained, nor by anything else that teachers have done or have not done. Illiterates have not attended the schools. It is due either to insufficient legislation or to non-enforcement of laws, doubtless more the latter save in the case of adult aliens.

From the very beginning of our colonial life, early in the 17th century, universal education has been a part of both our educational and our governmental creeds. A program of compulsory education was early found necessary, early adopted, and never abandoned. Beginning in Massachusetts and going south and west, following considerably behind but then keeping almost even pace with settlement and development after statehood had come, legislation has decreed that every child born into the land or coming into it by immigration shall enjoy the advantages of education, at least to the extent of knowing how to read and write the English language. Every state in the Union has compulsory attendance laws upon its statute books. These laws are not as thorogoing as they should be in many cases but yet, even as they are, if enforced, they should leave almost no illiteracy among people whose childhood has been spent in this country. For the least satisfactory laws--those of some of the Southern states, Georgia, for example, require school attendance for at least four months of each year between the ages of eight and fourteen. But illiteracy, even among our own people, has been revealed--too much of it. The laws have not been enforced. There is the sore spot. Why have they not been enforced? But of that later.

The education of adult aliens is another matter, and a very different one. As a problem it is almost new. That is, it has been only in relatively recent years that it has been recognized as such. True, for several years some of the states most largely affected, such as Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, and others have been wrestling with it, but not very much has yet been attempted toward introducing the compulsory features. And private agencies, philanthropic, industrial, religious, political, and others have also done good work. But all that had thus far been done had accomplisht little more, at the outbreak of the war, than to open our eyes to the existence of a problem. And in our leisurely way we were going about its solution. But war came. The European nations were aflame. We had many Europeans in our midst. Investigations were made. The universal draft was adopted. The revelations were startling. It was discovered that in 1910 there were in the United States 2,953,011 white persons of foreign birth, 10 years of age and over, unable to speak the English language. Of these 56,805 were from ten to fifteen years of age, 330,994 between fifteen and twenty-one, and 2,565,212 twenty-one and over. Note the number, _more than two and a half millions, twenty-one years of age and over--men grown, fathers of families, many of them_--unable to speak the language of their adopted country! And of these 788,631 were illiterate--unable to read or write in any language!

Nothing short of legal requirements on a large scale, and rigidly enforced, absolutely free of cost to the immigrant, can ever remove the menace. The law-making bodies of the country, both State and Federal, must act and act quickly or this growing menace will get beyond our control.

And the long catalog of physical defects--what shall be said of them? Shall they be charged against the "educational forces" of the country? Are they a disgrace from which we must "redeem" ourselves so that we shall not become the "greater laughing stock"? It is perfectly evident that somebody has blundered because the whole sad list of defects is, speaking broadly, preventive and, for the most part, also remediable. But where lies the responsibility--upon the home, the school, or society? Of course, primarily, upon the home; the child comes from the home, goes to the home, is a part of the home, is under the immediate control of the home. But yet, many homes, especially homes of alien peoples, are not sufficiently intelligent to have entrusted to them matters of such far-reaching importance. And many others are not financially able to have proper attention given.

But the school does know. And it, or what it represents, is abundantly able financially to handle the matter. It knows clearly how the child with physical defects is hampered in trying to perform its school work; it knows, too, how seriously the entire work of the school is interfered with when there are many such in the room; and it also knows the handicap under which such unfortunate children face life when school days are over. And the school knows, too, the preventive and remediable natures of these defects. Possessing all this knowledge, why has it not acted? To make a long story short, it has acted. To the extent of its authority and with all the influence and power at its command it has acted, has been acting for many years, and is still acting. For more than a generation the educational forces of the country have been engaged in a nation-wide educational campaign designed to make clear to the homes of the country and to the voters of the country the growing seriousness of the situation. On the lecture platform and from the Gospel pulpit, in the educational press and in the popular magazine, aye, in the daily newspaper, in private conversation and in public discussion, in season and out of season, they have labored unceasingly to acquaint the public with the facts and to urge preventive and remedial action. To the unselfish work of these leaders of educational thought and action, supplemented by the generous assistance of the medical profession, is due the fact of our present-day intelligence in regard to the matter. Educators have been deeply interested, thoroly alive, and intelligently at work. How they have agitated the matter of better ventilation and better lighting of schoolhouses! How they have pleaded for medical inspection and appropriate medical treatment of school children! How they have urged the employment of the school nurse! How they have workt for the playground and the gymnasium and for sane methods of handling the same!

But they do not form the court of last appeal. They have no authority. They all stand in about the same anomalous position as does the man nominally at the head of the educational activities of the country--the United States Commissioner of Education. They may gather statistics, make reports, and suggest action. But that is all. Tho possessing full knowledge of the situation, tho knowing just how to proceed to usher in a better day, they are not permitted to take any action. Responsible? Of course they are not responsible. "Redeem" themselves? From what, pray? "Laughing stock"? How long, oh! how long, will our great army of teachers, three-fourths of a million strong, be unappreciated, belittled, and maligned!

Who, then, is responsible? In the last analysis there is but one answer--the public itself. Since the community at large as well as the individual afflicted is, in the final outcome, a sufferer in every case of physical disability, as also in that of illiteracy, it is its duty, as a mesure of self-protection, at least, to assume direction. Adequate information is at hand as to desirable methods of procedure. Demonstrations a-plenty have been given to prove that the program suggested is feasible, inexpensive, and beneficial. This has been brought about thru the action of a few small groups who have thus presented clear and convincing object lessons. But why must we say "a few"? Why is not such work nation-wide? That is a longer story. It follows.

The United States of America is a Republic--a representative democracy--a government in which all the people participate. And the government of the United States is a Federal government. It is made up of a group of States, each one exercising supervision and control over its local matters. And education has thus far been considered a local matter. And in many ways that soverenty has been still further divided. We have as a smaller unit of school organization the county, and a smaller one yet, the township, and, in many states, a still smaller one, the school district, containing, in many instances, only a few square miles of territory and, of course, a very limited population. But in some respects, within certain limits, each of these small units is a law unto itself, having much to say as to the length of the school term, the character of the teaching, and many other phases including such as the one under consideration.

For these reasons it frequently happens that side by side are school districts, or townships, or counties, with widely differing educational programs. Here is one with attractive buildings, well ventilated and well lighted, well equipt in every way, in the hands of competent teachers, with physician and nurses subject to call. But just over the imaginary line is another with nothing quite satisfactory. They are just living up to the strict letter of the State's requirement and that is all. Not one dollar is being spent that represents the community's voluntary contribution to the welfare of its child life or to the future well-being of humanity.

And why? Just because we are a Democracy. Just because our action must be the united action of many, representing the average intelligence of the entire governmental unit and not that of its most intelligent members. For this reason a democracy is always slow to act along new lines. The majority of the people have to be convinced of the wisdom of the new mesure. And education is itself always a slow process. People change their minds slowly. Slowness of action is one of the prices we have to pay for our democracy. On the other hand, an absolute monarchy can act quickly, for there may be but one individual to assimilate the new idea or to be convinced of the wisdom of the proposed change.

These facts are easily made clear by historical references, and, happily, in the very matter under discussion--educational procedure. In the eighteenth century Prussia, under the two great Hohenzollern kings, Frederick William I and his son, Frederick the Great, the two ruling from 1713 to 1786, made most rapid strides in education. Both were practically absolute rulers, but they were benevolent and far-sighted, and the educational reforms that they inaugurated were basic and far-reaching, such as state-control and support, compulsory attendance, and the professional education of teachers. Being absolute in authority, all they needed to do was to promulgate the decrees and order their execution. The result was that, educationally, Prussia immediately forged ahead of all the other European countries.

England, on the other hand, was a limited monarchy. Her king could not have acted thus even if he so desired. Such mesures had to have the sanction of Parliament, which would have to hark back to an enlightened public opinion since Parliament was a representative body. And public opinion, especially in matters of education, is slow of creation. As a matter of fact, even tho the English people were much in advance of the Germans in civilization and in all the refinements of life, it was not till 1833 that England as a government took her first step looking toward the education of her children thru appropriating money. And the grant of that Act was only a paltry £20,000 a year to be used by two religious societies for the erection of school houses. And it was an entire generation later, even 1870, before they adopted the necessary principles of compulsory attendance and local taxation. More than a hundred years behind Prussia, England was, in the management of educational affairs!

Another illustration of the slow action of democracy is nearer at hand both in time and space, even in our own country. For one reason or another, rather, for many reasons, education was at a low-water mark in the United States the latter part of the eighteenth and the first part of the nineteenth centuries. Thoughtful men, progressive educators, prominent statesmen, searching for the cause and for the remedy, found the one in the poor character of the teaching being done and the other in the establishment of the State Normal School patterned after those of Germany. This was first suggested in 1816 in Connecticut and pretty faithfully kept before the people of New England thereafter. But in spite of every effort, including a campaign of education and the establishment of private normal schools for the purposes of demonstration, it was not till 1838 that the Massachusetts legislature could be induced to act. And she would not have done so then had it not been that a very prominent man of Boston, a friend of the cause, Mr. Edmund Dwight, showed his faith in the movement by making a generous contribution out of his private funds. Note, too, this action from another point of view--the amount of Democracy's initial contribution toward this new great movement in America: Mr. Dwight's gift of $10,000 was evenly matched by that of the wealthy state of Massachusetts! And the $20,000 was the amount planned for the establishment of _three new normal schools_ and their maintenance _for three years!_ That amount to-day would scarcely build a coal shed for each of three new normal schools!

But I am not advocating monarchical methods even to hasten so good a cause as educational improvement. I am merely accounting for our slowness of action in needed reform. For several reasons I should be decidedly opposed to adopting such a program of centralization even if we could. In the first place, not every absolute monarch would act as did Frederick the Great. There are few benevolent despots. In France during the seventeenth centuries the Louises were just as absolute as were the Fredericks in Germany. But they were not interested in education for the people. Again, Germany's system of education, tho objectively efficient, has been far from satisfactory because not based on sane moral principles. And that fact, by the way, has finally been Germany's undoing. Now, we can scarcely conceive of Democracy erecting an educational structure on an unsatisfactory moral foundation.

And still again, the action of an absolute monarch, in all such matters as education, tho perhaps temporarily rapid, is not permanent. Remove the guiding spirit and it slips back. An illustration will assist. Again Germany furnishes it. The little duchy of Gotha, just south of Prussia, serves us. During the Thirty Years' War Gotha had suffered greatly. Near its close, in 1640, Duke Ernest the Pious became its ruler. He had at heart the good of his people. He believed that education could be a very important factor in their upbuilding, and at once put into effect a progressive program. His people were greatly bettered and his duchy became a fine object lesson for other German States. But Duke Ernest died. And his educational reforms, not springing from the people themselves, followed him not long after.

A few years ago President Diaz, Mexico's benevolent despot of nearly half a century, died. And his people, never having been taught how to rule themselves nor practised in the art, went to pieces.

Democracy is slow but she is apt to be sure. Her action in educational matters is often provokingly dilatory, but she holds what she gains and thus continues to progress. She does not take a step forward until she is sure of her ground, but then she stands firm. Her actions are the results of deliberate thought based on adequate data gathered from actual experiments and not to be shaken. Democracy would not give up universal education nor take one step backward in the matter of compulsory attendance to secure it. She would not part with her elementary normal schools for anything in the world. And when once she sees her duty clear she will add to her school workers, in every community, the physician, the nurse, and the playground director. She will do it and, quickly noting improvements, soon wonder why she had not done it long before.

Since so much emphasis has been placed on the conservative nature of Democracy and on its consequent slowness of action, a word should be added as to its possibilities in emergency. Tho we were slow in entering the Great War, once our duty was clear we acted with a promptness, a unanimity, and an efficiency that surprised both friend and foe, giving heart to the one and consternation to the other. Tho a democracy, we invested our chief executive with a power and an authority beyond that possest by any monarch in the world.

So let us not be discouraged. The situation is not as bad as it might be. Our fundamental principles are sound. We are working along right lines and accomplishing good results. Our shortcomings, our weaknesses, our failures, if you wish to call them such, are seen only when our record is compared with a perfect score. The schools have not yet attained to 100 per cent efficiency; that is, the country over. Here and there, under the favorable conditions of an intelligent citizenry willing to follow expert leadership even to the extent of providing adequate funds, are schools and departments of schools of approximately 100 per cent efficiency. And these, as Democracy's experiments, assure us of other advance steps. They are object lessons. Thus Democracy always advances.

Finally, what shall we say? What shall we do? Not to "redeem" ourselves, oh, no! not that! but to approximate the 100 per cent efficiency all along the line? What? Why, knowing that we are headed aright, keep steadily forward with our eyes on the goal, refusing to be stampeded by the unthinking critic of whom Democracy always has a plenty. Take courage! Speed up!

I

ON THE FIRING LINE IN EDUCATION

_President's Address delivered at the Annual Banquet of the Fortnightly Club, Grand Forks, North Dakota, June 4, 1917_

The plan of the military campaign is worked out in the quiet, away back in the rear, sometimes at considerable distance from the place of actual hostilities. It is worked out quietly, usually slowly, and attracts but little attention. But when worked out and ready to be put into operation, the plan is taken forward and activities begin. Supplies are gotten ready, men stationed, guns loaded, the firing line is formed. Here is where the battle is to be fought, where an attempt is to be made to carry out the plans formed in the quiet, back there in the rear. Activity characterizes the scene. Advances are being made, new things being done. Every effort is put forth to realize the plans.

It is not different in education. In the quiet of the laboratories and the study, thoughtful men consider conditions, form plans, and develop theories of educational betterment that have to be tried out, out in the open. A firing line has to be formed, a place where new things are to be done different from the regular conventional activities. The humdrum, prosaic, traditional, everyday work goes on, in the main, all around but at these points where some advances are being tried, a new and it is hoped better program tested. All eyes are centered, all minds eager. The analogy is not inapt.

It is my purpose to discuss briefly some of the things that are happening on our educational firing lines. I want to bring to your attention first, however, the plan of the great educational campaign upon which we have entered, the goal before us at the present time, and then take up a few of the relatively new and typical positions being taken by leaders of educational thought, having the realization of that goal in view. This will present to you some of the things that are actually being done in a few progressive communities and point out possibilities for others.

SOCIAL BETTERMENT, THE DOMINANT MOTIVE IN EDUCATION

If I interpret aright the present-day educational thought, the dominant motive in it all is social in character. That is to say, in all of our plans for the education of children we keep them in mind as future members of society, acting with one another and all working together for the common good and for the betterment of the race. And around this motive, or back of it, or being used by it as a means, can be grouped all the significant educational practises of the time.

Formerly the motive was largely psychological. That is, the school effected its organization, chose its curriculum, worked out its program, and decided upon its methods in order that it might assist the child in the development of its instincts and capacities, thus enabling him to realize his own personality. The great French educator, Rousseau, living in the eighteenth century, was responsible for this movement and it was a notable advance beyond the haphazard and aimless practise of the time. Pestalozzi, the great Swiss educational reformer, Froebel, the German apostle of childhood, and Herbart, the psychological genius of the Fatherland, were disciples of Rousseau and worked out from his point of view, trying to put it into practise in the school-rooms.

And here was the firing line in education for many a long day. True, none of these later men ignored social relationships as did Rousseau. True, a strong case could be made out, if one should wish to defend the thesis, that these distinguished followers of Rousseau, even tho carrying out his program in the main, were likewise inaugurating the new sociological movement. But yet it was not sufficiently clear to dominate even in their own minds. The individual stood out beyond the mass. He filled the stage. Nor did they clearly pass it on to others. As a matter of fact, what the immediate followers of these men got from them was the theory of individualism in its better form.

The best definition of education that can be given from this point of view is _the development of an inner life_. That is what Rousseau wanted to bring about and Pestalozzi and Froebel, and our own Colonel Parker of more recent times, the modern apostle of childhood, had the same vision. And so to Froebel and these others, likewise, the school was an institution in which each child should discover his own individuality, work out his own personality, and develop harmoniously all his powers. True, in that environment and doing all that, the child is going to learn the relationships of society, and thus the school might become a means for social progress as well as the instrument of individual development. But this was incidental. The development of the inner life was the goal. Fashioned in the quiet, in the study, away from the haunts of man, this became the program and the rallying cry, and out on the firing line it was striven for. On the educational battlefields of both Europe and America, where redoubts were being stormed and advance positions taken, this was the one great end in view. It eventuated in the child study movement of the present generation that is now at its height and that has done so much to mitigate the severities of the old time school room practises and likewise greatly aided in putting education on a scientific basis.

The immediate followers, I say, of the great European quartet of educators had the above worthy goal in view; but with their followers, many of them, especially the noisy ones, the modern sophists, it degenerated into a theory of pure individualism of the most selfish type. The theory of getting on in the world, every man for himself, became rampant. The school came to be looked upon as an institution in which children could learn how to get ahead of the rest of the community, and education as merely another weapon to use in making society contribute more to purse and pleasure. And on the firing line, formed by these noisy agitators, mistaken by many as educational leaders, these were the things striven for. But this aberration was only temporary. The real educational leaders, in trying to realize the goal of Rousseau and Pestalozzi and to do it having to combat this movement of wildcat educational speculation, gradually came to see a more important truth even than the one they were seeking. As on many another firing line, victories by the wayside have clarified our vision and given us new perspectives, and a goal, not at first recognized, looms large upon the horizon.

For thru all this struggle we have learned that the first business of the public school is to teach the child to live in the world in which he finds himself, to understand his share in it and to perform it because, after all, unless people learn to adapt themselves to other individuals and communities, disorder and chaos follow. In it all we have come to see that education is the best instrument for regenerating society.

Not individual development, then, the selfish view of Rousseau, not even the harmonious development of all the faculties, the one-sided, somewhat restricted, or undeveloped, view of Pestalozzi and others of his followers, surely not individual efficiency for personal gain, the selfish view of crass materialism, but social efficiency is the present-day motive in education. And the definition of education takes on a different color. Not merely the development of inner life but in conjunction with that or in addition to it, _the development in the individual of the power of adjustment to an ever changing social environment_. And likewise the school becomes more than a place in which the child can discover himself. Aye, it is the instrument that democracy has fashioned for realizing its broad and humanitarian ideal. Democracy is ever striving for closer and more harmonious relation between its members, a greater degree of social justice, and the school is its efficient means.

These two tendencies, the psychological and the sociological,--only two since the narrow individualistic was never accepted and is now being rapidly eliminated--these two are not antagonistic nor mutually exclusive. The difference is largely in point of view or emphasis. One may say that they are but the two sides of the same shield but the fact remains that there _are_ two sides. There is a difference and the change came as suggested. And the change has modified conditions on the firing line. Ever since Mr. Spencer asked his suggestive question, "what knowledge is of most worth," the question of educational values has been raised and the curriculum has come under close scrutiny. The result has been a modification. The purely linguistic and literary, that which does not function directly for preparation in life and society, is slowly giving way to that which deals with the facts and forces of nature and of social institutions.

Thus far I have tried to make plain the great educational campaign in which we are engaged, as seen on the firing line,--to point out the goal before us, universal education, of course, and social efficiency for each member of the group. That suggests at once as a definition of education, the one made famous by Herbert Spencer more than a half century ago, "_Preparation for complete living._" That was good as a start in the new direction, but one of the most prominent generals of our educational forces now commanding at the front, John Dewey of Columbia University, has suggested a modification which brings it up to date and gives the key-note of explanation to the tactics now in vogue out there in the front ranks. He says that instead of being the preparation for life, education is life itself. Some without trying to probe deeply into the thought back of the trenchant expression, have said that this was a mere play upon words. But Dewey is not a man who plays with words. What he meant by the statement is that the child is best prepared for life as an adult by living the right kind of life as a child. That is by living a life that has real meaning to him now, a normal natural life, putting forth those activities that spring from within, not merely sitting behind a narrow desk trying to memorize wordy descriptions of complicated facts thought to be useful to him later on. And when we go out and see what they are doing on the firing line we shall see just that being done.

CHILD STUDY

But perhaps I should guard against a possible misapprehension. In eliminating the materialistic point of view in individualism--narrow individual development for personal gain--we have not thrown aside the goal of development suggested by Rousseau and Pestalozzi. Advanced educational thought has that prominently in mind--the discovery of the child's latent powers--his possibilities--his tastes--his "bent" and the development of the same. But while with them that was the goal, the end in view, and a somewhat selfish one, even tho not crassly materialistic, it has become, with us, a means to a larger end, namely, social betterment. The child must be known and developed to enable it to be able to contribute its largest quota to the welfare of society.

With this general direction of educational activity made plain, and incidentally the character of the activities along the entire battle front, let us pass to a consideration of a few specific activities that will illustrate the general movement. Let us bear in mind that we have in view, in the first place, the individual child whose tastes and aptitudes we must discover and, on the basis of discovery, whose fullest development, consistent with the rights of others, we must seek. And the reason for this, you know, is that only as this is done and he is prepared to do that kind of work in the world for which his tastes best adapt him--only thus can he be made the most efficient member of society possible. Because, as Plato said, centuries ago, "Society is but the individual writ large"--a collection of individuals. The foundation of all things in social life is the individual.

Now, I'll admit, at once, that that is not the program of the rank and file of the schools. It should be, but it isn't. What the schools are trying to do, in the main, is to teach the children a lot of facts that tradition says would be well for them to know when they become adults, wholly irrespective of the child's present attitude toward these facts--whether or not they have meaning for him. What the high schools are trying to do is to teach the relatively few who survive this grade program, in addition to these elementary tradition-directed facts of knowledge, a lot more of meaningless matter prescribed by the colleges and listed under that alluring title, "entrance requirements." And as a result of these programs the schools are sending altogether too many of their boys and girls into society unacquainted with themselves, and ill-fitted for any useful occupation, and therefore out of sympathy with the serious work of the world. They are misfits in the social and economic world and are obliged to take their places in the ranks of the lowest-paid of unskilled labor--and work up if they can.

Now, what is being done on the firing lines to remedy this situation and to usher in the new day? Well, first, in our normal schools--institutions established and maintained for the simple purpose of preparing young people for teaching children--great emphasis is being placed upon the study of the child. It is felt that only as the teacher understands the child mind and the laws of its development can she direct that development aright. (That's a sensible point of view, isn't it? And yet it is only on the firing line in educational practise that we find it recognized. Without that factor of equipment, the teacher is teaching subjects, not boys and girls.) In many normal schools child study is one of the required subjects--no one may graduate or be recommended for a teaching position who has not taken it. It should be required in all--and will be a little later on. No person should be allowed to occupy the position of teacher of children who has not made such a study--and proved himself efficient in it. Boards of education should demand it even if some normal schools do not yet require it for graduation. It is far and away the most important part of the teacher's professional equipment.

And then in our schools of education and teachers colleges--institutions set apart for preparing teachers for our high schools and for administrative positions--the study of adolescence is receiving increasing attention. The high school boy and the high school girl are being made the subjects of close, careful, scientific study. It is thought that in order to deal effectively with these young people the high school teacher should understand those marvelous changes--physical, mental, and moral--thru which they are passing. How else can one know how to check where checking is needed (and it usually is needed somewhere along the line); to guide where the pathway is obscure (and every adolescent is sure to pass thru valleys of darkness during the high school course); and to inspire where inspiration is lacking (and with some it is lacking a good deal of the time)--in a word, how else than thru a knowledge of the situation can one be the "philosopher, guide, and friend" that the adolescent always needs?