Chapter IX: Introduction (6)

Another suggestion that I want to make and an improvement that I am going to urge touches very closely the matter of efficiency of systems of education. Now, the efficiency of an educational institution or of a system of schools is often mesured by the success of those completing its course of study--of those profiting, to the full, by all that it offers. That is the point of view taken by those people who so greatly praise the work of the old district school of our boyhood days, "back East." They point to this man and that one, men who have achieved eminent success, whose only "schooling," perhaps, was received in the "little red school house" and therefore claim that it was a great institution for the making of men. But therein lurks a fallacy. Great men have issued from the "little red school house," it is true, but they became great not because of, but in spite of, the fact that the school house was "little" and was "red." In pointing to such men as these, as products, they forget the great silent multitude of boys and girls who were in the same "little red school house" but who were never heard of after they emerged. The pathetic feature of the old district school was the great number of children who fell by the wayside. And so, to-day, no educational institution should be rated as to efficiency by considering the success merely of those completing its courses. To form a correct estimate we must consider as well all those who entered and dropt out before completion.

No system of schools is really efficient in which any considerable percentage of the children drop out before completing the elementary course of study. No system of schools is satisfactorily efficient which is so managed as to require, or even allow, any considerable percentage of the children to repeat grades, that is, to fail of promotion, making it necessary to go over the work the second time. Or, to put it in other words, in which any considerable percentage of the children are doing work in grades lower than their ages would suggest.

This is the matter of retardation of which we are hearing so much in these days, and in regard to which Grand Forks, as well as other cities, suffers. In my judgment, there are two main causes of retardation: poor teaching and physical defects of the children. There are two ways by which satisfactory teaching can be secured: in the first place, by securing the best teachers available, and this, I am very sure, our Board of Education and our superintendent always try to do. In the second place, by improving the quality of work thus secured thru expert supervision on the part of the superintendent and the principals of the various schools. And this I am sure is not done to the extent that it might be were matters differently arranged. If another suggestion that I shall make later on is adopted, however, provision will be made for this improvement.

Physical defects on the part of the children I named as the second cause of retardation. And the remedy for the major portion of this cause is found in my next suggestion--medical inspection of our school children.

Estimating the conditions in Grand Forks on the basis of what has been discovered in many other places in which medical inspection is in operation, from 25% to 80% of the children in our schools are suffering from physical defects of some sort that interfere, to a greater or less degree, with the work of the school. There is no doubt in the minds of well-informed people that here is found a very fruitful cause of retardation, as seen both in grade-failure and in early dropping out of school. And very many of these defects are removable and, therefore, the retardation preventable.

Now, the only seemingly valid reason that I have ever heard urged against the employment of the school physician is that of expense. It does cost something, I'll admit. All good things do. The necessary expense, however, is often overestimated. But let us see if we are not, even in hesitating at the expense, whatever it may be, wholly illogical. The city assumes the duty of educating the young, but if many of the young are not in a condition to receive that education, should we not logically see that the hindrances are removed? We enact compulsory attendance laws; should we not, where necessary, make it possible for the physically defective as well as others, to profit by such attendance? Otherwise, are we not wasting money?

I have mentioned the expense, but there are two ways of looking at that. I am now going to advocate medical inspection as an economic mesure--as a money saver. Every child who repeats a grade is costing the city more than it should for its education. That is clearly apparent. How much that amounts to, in the aggregate, in Grand Forks, I do not know. But it is probably no small item. I have no doubt that, in the long run, the saving would pay the school physician. And then we should be clearly ahead in all the years saved by the various children, as well as the greater happiness and usefulness directly resulting from the improved situation. On the whole, it seems to me and to many others with whom I have talked that the next step forward that we should ask our Board of Education to take is the adoption of medical inspection.

Another phase of the subject to which I desire to call your attention is that of the superintendency. And it isn't exactly like the old maid sister telling the mother of half a dozen lusty boys how to bring them up because, in addition to spending years in the study and teaching of educational matters, I have occupied the superintendent's office and tried to do his work.

Historically, the superintendent of schools represents a development from the Board of Education, not from the teaching body. Originally, he was looked upon as the business manager of the Board, rather than an educator by profession. Quite specifically, he was, at first, often one of the regularly elected members of the Board, designated by the Board to attend to the details of the work, to keep the educational machine properly oiled, his selection seldom being dictated by any particular qualification of a professional character.

But in this matter of education as in other matters, great changes have arisen. In those days teaching was not looked upon as a profession. It was merely a calling, a trade, a temporary activity requiring no special preparation. Anybody could teach and could teach any subject. Education was not recognized as a science. The function of the school was merely to give knowledge and it was not looked upon, as to-day, as a great social institution, largely responsible for the welfare of society and even for the stability of government. And as touching the child, not interesting itself with the formation of right habits of action, with the development of character, in a word, so handling the child and his environment as to bring about both the normal development of his inner life and the adequate shaping and preparing of that life to satisfy the demands that will later be met. Not at all.

But great changes have arisen. Education has become a science, and its activities, its processes, are being based upon definite scientific principles. We are to-day demanding a professional preparation of all our teachers. We require them to know something about the child mind and the laws of its development. We expect them to know why they teach this subject and that, that is, the educational values of the various subjects, and the best manner of administering this educational food. Education, I say, is now looked upon as a _science_, closely allied to and continually assisted by its sister science of sociology, definitely based upon and springing out of the sciences of psychology and physiology, and even having its roots deep down in the sub-soil of biology.

Together with this change of thought as to the function and work of the school, there has been a corresponding change as to the superintendent and his work. While we are not completely emancipated from the old rule of cut and try, from the old mechanical routine, the country as a whole has taken some long strides in advance. While some boards of education still look upon their superintendent as a chore boy, that idea has, on the whole, long since been abandoned. And the best educational thought of the country to-day regards the superintendent primarily as an educator, having to do with the inner, rather than the outer, phases of the school's activities. And our most progressive centers are looking upon him as a specialist, an educational expert, and demanding in him an educational and a professional equipment commensurate with the larger, more difficult, and most important work. He must be intimately acquainted with the sciences most closely related to his own and capable of drawing upon all the others for contributory assistance. And then, in carrying out the thought of this larger view and so shaping matters of detail as to profit by the superb equipment provided in the new superintendent, he has been freed from the routine work formerly done by him, thus giving the opportunity of studying the local problems and planning their solution.

Now for my definite suggestion. It has taken me a long time to get to it, but I believe it is worth the time. I want you to look upon the superintendency of your schools as the largest, the most difficult, and most important position within the bestowal of the city. The mayor's job doesn't begin to compare with it. And then after you have so rated the position, I want you to free the man who holds it from all hack-work, from the details of business management, from anything and everything that now prevents him from making a careful, scientific, investigative study of fundamental educational problems that confront him right here in Grand Forks.

And what are some of those problems, do you ask? Superintendent Kelly could doubtless name a score of them that he is waiting to get at but can not for want of time. Let me suggest a few that are confronting our superintendents all over the land. Nor can I do more than mention them. I name first this matter of retardation of which I have already spoken. Why is it that so many children fail of promotion and so have to repeat grades, thus adding to the expense of the schools? It no longer satisfies to say, "Because they do not study"--the question is, "Why do they not study?" Is it the fault of the child, the home, or the school? And, whosoever it is, how can the difficulty be removed? You would not in your business suffer a daily loss thru unnecessary friction--thru the unsatisfactory working of your machinery. You demand the largest and best output possible for the money expended. Why not the same in the biggest business enterprise of the city--your schools? But to prevent the friction, you must know the cause. I want the superintendent to have time to investigate these matters. All this applies as well to those who drop out before completing the course as to those merely repeating a grade. An analogous question: Why do so few, relatively, of the graduates of the eighth grade enter the high school? And why do so few of those who enter complete the course? Again, is it because they can see no real connection between the work of the high school and the work of life--because it doesn't seem to fit them for anything? These things should be investigated and, when reasons are found, the remedy applied. We should know the facts. But all these matters take time, and the days are only so long and a man's strength always limited. Exhausted by hack-work, no man can do constructive thinking. And so we go on in our waste of money and energy and life. The waste of soil, the waste of tools, in our farming communities, doesn't compare with this waste in seriousness. Let us adopt the principles of scientific conservation.

And now, in keeping with the topic given me to discuss, "Improvement in Our Public Schools," I have given three quite definite suggestions: In the first place, I have recommended the utilization of the Press as an agent of improvement. That is, I have asked that there be established in one or both of your daily papers an educational column in charge of some competent person thru which the public could become better informed on school matters and thus able to co-operate more intelligently in the upbuilding of the schools. In the second place, I have urged that mesures be taken looking toward the adoption of regular and systematic medical inspection of all school children. And lastly, I have urged you to look upon your superintendent of schools as an educational expert rather than a business man. And, regarding him as such, I have asked you to free him from the petty details of office work and all mechanical drudgery so that his training and his abilities could be used for educational betterment.

VIII

LOCAL WINTER SPORTS

_A Paper read before the Franklin Club of Grand Forks, North Dakota, December 1, 1910, and printed in the Grand Forks "Daily Herald," December 4, 1910_

It is no longer necessary to offer an extended plea for a recognition of the value of physical training. The human race, in its upward climbing, long ago passed the stage where the body was looked upon as a hindrance to the soul in its aspirations. We have likewise gone beyond that higher stage in which the attitude toward the physical being was merely negative, and have clearly reached an altitude upon which we recognize a well-defined relationship between the physical man and the mental and spiritual man. We know now that only as each is healthy and thus in a condition to do its own work well, is the other able to act normally. As the great English philosopher, Locke, said, "A sound mind in a sound body is a brief but full description of a happy state in this world." This is a well-recognized article of our educational creed, not only, but even the conservative religious workers have accepted the principle, and we find inscribed over the entrances to our Christian Association buildings the word "body" as well as the word more commonly found in such connection, "spirit."

But to go back just a moment: let us consider it from the standpoint of mere physical betterment. We know that a muscle unused means a muscle undeveloped, and that, on the contrary, intelligent, systematic use, with a definite purpose in view, will accomplish wonders in physical development. We know something as to what a physical trainer can do with a bunch of raw foot-ball material. We know how the gymnasium can metamorphose a loose-jointed, lop-sided, stoop-shouldered, shamble-gaited young fellow. We know what the brisk recruiting officer can do with the "awkward squad." In the one case as in the other, the physical training stands him upon his feet; it takes the kinks out of his back; it throws his head up; it unties the knots in his legs; it puts fire into his eye. The good red blood courses thru his veins, and even shows itself in his cheeks. He walks with an elastic step. Every organ of his body is doing its duty. He no longer needs liver pills, digestive tablets or wizard oil.

I said "mere physical betterment," didn't I? Well, you can not have "mere" physical betterment. In every case suggested above, there is something better than physical improvement. Without knowing why, or how, the young fellow, after the training suggested, in addition to being a more perfectly functioning animal, a better working flesh-and-blood machine, is several rounds higher up on the ladder of manhood. He looks you in the eye. He gives your hand a regular Stearns grip. He dares to say that his soul is his own. And why? Because the life-giving oxygen is getting down into the long-neglected corners of his lungs. Because his heart is forcing this purified blood thru his veins building up his system and incidentally throwing off the waste and poisonous matter, so that, relieved of the dregs, the bodily organs can really function. And if that is true of the "gizzard" it is likewise true of the brain. He can feel more keenly, think more wisely. But all this can be done by physical exercise alone. Some of the best of these results can be obtained by the use of the mere punching bag; by running around the house, if you run often enough and fast enough; all alone with the dumb bells or Indian clubs, if you keep at it long enough, or even by walking out to the University on the railroad tracks and saving your street car nickels. But taken thus, these exercises constitute a mere medicine. And people don't take medicine until they have to. And for some strange reason they won't take this kind even then unless some doctor prescribes it in consideration of the payment of a good sized fee. Why is it? Simply because we prize things in proportion to their cost?

Now, we want these results and even better ones. And we don't want to pay the doctor's fees for this or any other kind of medicine in order to get them. What are we going to do about it? Isn't there some sugar coating that we can put on to these physical exercise pills to make them a little more palatable? Can't we in some way make ourselves believe that we are eating candy instead of taking quinine? For you know that we grown-ups have not lost all our powers of imagination. How often we play make believe, even yet! I'll tell you what we can do. Let's have this same physical exercise idea but introduce into it the element of sport which Webster defines as "that which diverts and makes mirth." Let's do these stunts "for the fun of it" instead of as a medicine. We'll get the results, just the same, and thus get double pay for our pains. I fancy that the skiing and the skating, the snow-shoeing and the curling of which we are to hear, all have that element tucked away somewhere in their anatomy.

But you may ask me what more there is than the results already mentioned to be gotten from these physical exercises, if we succeed in covering up the quinine with Mr. Webster's molasses. I've used Indian clubs and dumb bells by the hour; I've walked to the University in season and out of season; I've even run around the house--and as a result have experienced the exhilaration that comes from such vigorous discipline. I've been better for it, physically, and therefore, of course, mentally. More oxygen, better blood, firmer bodily tissue including better nourished brain cells, have done their beneficent work. But yet, as I look back and see myself going thru these various maneuvers, I am fully confident of the fact that all this time I was also doing something else--that my poor brain cells, which really needed recuperation more than any other part of my body, that these brain cells were still at work, that I was all the time carrying on a more or less strenuous train of thought as exhaustive as tho I were seated in my study chair, or standing before my class in the recitation room. More than one lecture, or address, have I worked out while walking to and from the University.

Now, one of the most important things for us to do is occasionally to stop thinking, or at least to stop thinking along our accustomed lines. We should give those few brain cells that are being made to work over-time a chance to rest once in a while. We are living too fast. Our lives are too intense. We are running our machines under high pressure, and some of them are already showing the results altho they are almost new. Unless there is a change, new ones will have to take their places ere long. The rate of speed of the life of the modern American business and professional man, the rate of speed of the life of the modern American society woman, is something terrific. We are wearing ourselves out before our time. Modern life is so complex, so exacting, so wearing, that we are losing all the joy of living. We are at our own firesides so seldom and for such short periods that we scarcely know our own little ones. Longfellow's "Children's Hour" that came "as a pause in the day's occupation," is almost wholly unknown in most American homes. There is no "pause" in the day's occupation. The occupation goes right on till after these "children" are soundly asleep in their beds and begins again before they are awake in the morning. And all this is true even of us, right here in this select circle, the "favored ones," many would call us.

But I am not giving a diatribe on American life, so will not pursue the matter farther. All that I am trying to do is simply this: to call attention to the fact that we are living _fast_--faster than our physical and mental make-up can long stand; that we have already reached the danger point. And what are we going to do about it? Well, we shall have to do many things before the problems are all solved, the difficulties all met. As a slight relief, and to answer a question raised a little earlier in the paper, I am suggesting the sports--those activities that both rejuvenate the physical man and also "divert and make mirth." Into these we can not carry our teaching and our preaching and our making of social calls. The goods of the merchant, the notes of the banker, the briefs of the lawyer, the annoyances of the teacher, and the cares of the housewife, alike, would all have to be left behind. The mind could rest while the body and the spirit are being recreated. An hour a day, in the open air, with fears and anxieties and schemes all cast aside, in companionship with kindred spirits similarly divested of that which troubles and makes afraid, all engaged in recreative sports, would do more to make us physically well, morally strong, and civilly decent than all the pills of the doctors, all the texts of the preachers, and all the keys of the jailers!

In keeping with the world-wide movement in this direction our own people, in their civic capacity, have already acted and have thus become the possessor of splendid park facilities which offer ample opportunities, when fully developed, for a sane out-of-door life of a population many times as large as ours at the present time. And as we all know, the Park Board has entered intelligently and systematically upon this matter of development and improvement. Much has already been done. Very much more is fully outlined in the minds of the Park Board. I think it is their purpose--and I fully believe that they will carry it out--to proceed in this matter of development just as rapidly as the people show, by their use of the facilities progressively offered, an appreciation.

Nearly all the work done thus far, such as clearing away the rubbish, making the shady retreats usable, fitting up picnic grounds, caring for the tennis courts, golf links, and other game reserves, as well as erecting pavilions and other conveniences, has looked toward putting the grounds into condition for summer use. And the response on the part of the people has been gratifying. As rapidly as the parks have been put into shape, they have been generously used by an appreciative people. It has done my heart good, many times, especially on Sundays in the hot summer months, to see the numbers of people, and _the people_, who were really using the parks. They have been the people, in a large mesure, who can not easily get elsewhere the best things that the parks give.

Thus far, as said, the plans for development have looked mainly toward summer use, But I am especially glad to note a recent improvement that shows that the Park Board has the winter use of the parks also definitely in mind. I refer to the new skating rink in Riverside Park. It is a most commendable institution. I very much hope that it will be extensively used, not only by the people living in that part of the city, but by those of all sections. It belongs to all of us. Here is an opportunity for a most delightful winter sport freely offered. If appreciated, as shown by its use, I have no doubt that it will be duplicated next winter, and on a larger scale, in Lincoln Park. And if we show that we appreciate this, other features will be added.

Perhaps I should stop here, but I can not lose the opportunity of saying just a word to connect this topic with the great playground movement, and therefore in behalf of providing facilities for winter and summer sports alike, for our boys and girls--our young people.

Do you realize fully that the boys and girls of to-day--yours and mine, yes, and just as truly those less favored--those into whose lives there comes but little cheer, into whose stomachs there goes but little nourishing food, and into whose lungs, but little oxygen--do you realize, I ask, that these boys and girls are to be the men and women of to-morrow, with all the responsibilities of the world resting upon their shoulders? Do we want them to enter upon the duties of life stoop-shouldered, flat-chested, spectacle-eyed? Do we want them to be anæmic, pessimistic, nervous wrecks? Do we want them to be mental weaklings and moral cowards? Do we want them even to approximate these conditions? No? Then, with all our provisions for their wants and their needs, let us be sure to develop those things which minister so largely to the development of the opposite characteristics. Prevention is not only cheaper than cure, it is also better. Let us see that our parks are developed with provisions for our boys and girls as well as for the adults. Let us see that playgrounds are scattered over our city and provision made for both winter and summer sports.

In addition to the Riverside Park skating rink, I wish the City Council or the Board of Education would establish one on the grounds of the Winship school, another at the Central building, and still a third on the Belmont grounds. This could be done at nominal cost. What a splendid opportunity it would give to all the children of the city to engage in this most healthful and invigorating sport! It would give them their needed entertainment and relaxation in the pure, invigorating, out-of-door air. It would surround them with an emotional atmosphere that is at once normal, natural, and spiritually health-giving. Instead of these conditions, what do we find? Many of our young boys and girls and very many of those a little older--those just entering upon manhood and womanhood, when both emotional and physical atmosphere count for so much in the forming of habits and the choosing of ideals--many of these future men and women are finding their entertainment and their relaxation (and mind you, at the close of a day in school or in the evening after a day spent in the poorly ventilated office or store) in the moving-picture show or at the vaudeville. And in these places the air is apt to be both hot and impure, and all the physical conditions enervating. The emotional atmosphere, too, is sure to be abnormal, unnatural, and spiritually deadening. We find here, and in too large quantity to be a negligible factor, the atmosphere, the conditions, the associations, that help greatly to breed incorrigibles, truants, and laggards in our schools; that develop juvenile delinquents, hasty marriages, and early divorces; that send into the world paupers, grafters, and criminals. Not all the conditions are such in all such places, it is true, but as affecting young life these are usually the dominating ones.

I am not condemning the theater. It has its legitimate place, and a large place it is, in normal, healthy, American life. I am merely declaiming against these lower forms as usually conducted for commercial gain--these perversions of the true theater idea--these institutions that deal so largely in the sensational elements and appeal so strongly to the passions. I am told that the cheap theater is the poor man's club. I very much doubt if that is its chief function or, rather, that its chief result is a wholesome quickening of the better nature of this poor man--that its chief accomplishment is to send him back to his home kinder, truer, and stronger, thru either the relaxation or the instruction, to grapple with the difficulties of life. I greatly fear that, as usually conducted, its influence upon the adult is at best but the temporary slaking of an unhealthy and never-satisfied thirst, and that upon the child and the adolescent it is a distinct blunting of all the finer sensibilities and elements of character. But even these lower forms are not all bad. There is enough of good in them to warrant an attempt at improvement rather than elimination. They can be improved, made clean, and wholesome, and thus become a positive factor in the development of right character. I doubt if it will be done, however, until some other motive than personal gain shall be responsible for their management. Still, as they are, they might be very greatly bettered if in some way those most deeply interested in the outcome could have a choice in the selection of the material to be used.

One of the best ways to counteract the harmful influence of the poorly conducted moving picture show and the vaudeville is to develop something better to take their places. Let it be something that contains the life-giving principles, something that will appeal with equal force to the impressionable youth, and yet be clean and wholesome and natural. Shall we not look upon the public playground for the children, and the park system, for all, as a promising hope? And, properly developed, would they not soon come to act on the young, both physically and psychically, as a prevention, thus making a later cure unnecessary? And upon adults, might we not reasonably expect their use to tend toward making less attractive, and so to the eventual abandonment of, many of these practises and forms of entertainment and recreation that are now so sapping of both physical and psychical life?

IX

THE FUNCTION OF TEACHERS COLLEGE

_An Address delivered before the North Dakota State Teachers Association on December 27, 1906. It later appeared in the January and February, 1910, issues of "Education"_

Among the various educational institutions of the United States to-day, the one which, as it seems to me, is attracting the most intelligent attention on the part of our educational thinkers, and the one upon the right solution of whose problems depends, in a high degree, the success of our entire educational system, is the institution for the education of teachers. For we all have come, finally, to accept as true the statement of the old German writer, "School reform means schoolmaster reform," also that other, used so effectively in the days of our own early educational revival, "As is the teacher so is the school." And we are ready to-day to admit that those statements are true whether applied to the ungraded rural school with its noticeable lack of needed equipment, to the perfectly graded school of the city with every facility that human ingenuity can devise and money procure, or to the college and university where scholarship and culture are supposed to make their abode and contribute of their fullness. For I care not, and you care not, what be the physical and material equipment of the school; I care not, nor do you, what be the scholastic attainments of the one called teacher; if he isn't able to teach, that is, to cause to learn, we all know that the school, in just the mesure of his inability, is a failure. One thing further we all know, and that is this: one plank in our great educational platform is belief in the necessity of an institution set apart for the preparation of teachers. We are irrevocably committed to the idea. It is a part of our educational creed. Fortunately, in our educational evolution we have left far behind us the stage when the wisdom of that institution was seriously questioned. Our pedagogical forefathers, valiant explorers, discoverers, heroes, educational statesmen--Carter, Mann, Page, Sheldon and others--have left us this priceless heritage. It remains for us to-day merely to analyze the institution, agree upon the respective functions of its various types, and then apply ourselves with intelligent vigor each to the solution of his own problems.

As we look around us, we clearly distinguish three distinct types of the institution under discussion. The oldest, best known, and most numerous is called the state normal school. It dates from the time of Horace Mann and Edmund Dwight, the former of whom recognized the need and knew how to inaugurate the movement, the latter, having unbounded faith in Mr. Mann, provided the funds. Nearly every state in the union has now one or more intelligently at work. All that have not, have practically the same thing under another name--normal departments in connection with the state universities.

The next type, in order of time and numbers, as well, is found in connection with the higher educational institutions of the country. It has various names, as "Department of Education," "School of Education," "Division of Education," "Pedagogical Department," "School of Pedagogy" and "Teachers College." Probably the name most common in the past has been "Department of Education," or "Pedagogical Department," tho in the developed form it is changing to "School of Education" or "Teachers College." Of these, there are at work, according to the 1909 report of the Commissioner of Education, 171. That is, there are 171 colleges and universities maintaining at least a department, or chair, of education, and giving professional instruction of college grade.

The third type, latest in appearance and as yet fewest in number, but with fair promise of rapid increase and great usefulness, is the county school, called "County Normal Training Class" in Michigan and "County Training School" in Wisconsin, in which two states the movement is at its best. Indeed, I do not know of any other state in which the work has been thus definitely organized. Of these, Michigan had, a year ago, forty-one, and Wisconsin, twenty. Possibly in this connection one ought to mention the good work being done in high schools in several states, but seen at its best in Nebraska and New York. Yet this work is but an adjunct to the high school, and does not so clearly approach a separate institution.

Of these three types it is the second which is the subject of the present discussion--whose function I seek. It is really immaterial whether we use, in the discussion, the appellation of Minnesota and say "College of Education," or that of Harvard and call it "Division of Education," or that of Columbia, Missouri, and North Dakota, and say "Teachers College." For they are all one and the same institution with but slightly different systems of organization. I use the latter term because more familiar and more likely, I think, as time passes, to prevail.

But these three types are so closely connected that the function of one cannot be clearly seen alone. Therefore I propose very briefly to examine the establishment of each so as to learn why it was called into existence--what function it was originally expected to perform. I shall then briefly examine present conditions, trying to discover if any changes have taken place in the general educational situation of sufficient moment to make necessary a rearrangement or readjustment. Finally, I shall draw my conclusions as to present functions, and with a more careful analysis of certain factors state the reasons for those conclusions as briefly as possible.

First, as to state normal schools: it is, of course, entirely unnecessary to go into details as to organization or early work of this institution in our country. I am stating what is known to all when I say that Horace Mann in Massachusetts, Henry Barnard in Connecticut, David Page in New York, and William Phelps in New Jersey had one and only one thought in view in working for the establishment of normal schools and for the development of their work. They, one and all, were seeking some means for providing better teachers for the common schools. No one, so far as I am able to discover, at this time even suggested that any other teachers needed a special preparation for their work. To be sure, the American high school was hardly under way when the normal school movement was inaugurated, in 1839, there being then but half a dozen in the entire country. Ten years later there were but eighteen. There was, however, in those days a large number of academies giving secondary instruction. But there was no thought of looking to the normal schools for academy teachers, they came from the colleges. Indeed, generally speaking, the academies and high schools as then being developed, were offering a higher grade of academic work than the normal schools, and they were rather assisting the latter in the production of teachers. This was especially true in New York, a movement having there been inaugurated by which, thru financial aid from the State, many of the academies were offering normal school instruction and sending out into the rural schools and city grades a very creditable product. And the character of the movement in the East has continued to be the character of the movement as it has swept Westward. I think there has not been established in the United States a single state normal school whose function has not been understood to be the preparation of teachers for the common schools. And by "common schools" I mean the first eight grades of the public school, including both rural and urban communities, for it has been only in recent years that we have carefully discriminated between the two.

Next, let us look at the teachers college. Bear in mind that I use the term as referring to the institution, or department, under whatever name it may be known, that is doing professional work in the preparation of teachers in connection with colleges and universities. In taking up the topic, attention needs first to be called to two facts: the rapid development of our high school system and the high degree of success already attained by our normal schools.

After the close of the Civil War our high schools began to multiply--rapidly from 1870 to 1880, by leaps and bounds from that time to the present. In 1870 there were 170; 1880, 800; 1890, 2,526; 1900, 6,005; and in 1908, 8,960. (Annual reports of the Commissioner of Education.) But no sooner had the high school movement obtained good headway than the serious problem arose as to the supply of teachers. And so well, on the whole, had the normal school done its work that it had more than justified its existence. Thru its work the character of the teaching in the elementary schools had been greatly improved. Teachers, with normal school equipment, were everywhere recognized as superior to those otherwise trained or not trained at all. Very naturally, then, when the problem of high school teachers arose, professional preparation was demanded. But where could it be obtained and how?

The state normal schools, true to their function of preparing teachers, tried to satisfy the additional demands placed upon them. They added to their equipment, modified and extended their courses, and in every way did all they could. Indeed, they did all that was done in a professional way for nearly a generation. But the high schools were increasing, both in numbers and in academic requirements of students and teachers. City school systems were being developed and extended in a most unprecedented manner, calling for skilled superintendents, supervisors, grade principals, special teachers, etc., until, finally, thoughtful men began to see that the impossible was being asked of the state normal schools. For two reasons, it was seen, they could not do the double work; in the first place, they had more than they could do in their original sphere of providing teachers for the elementary schools, and secondly, their academic possibilities, even increased as they had been in attempting the work, were clearly seen to be wholly inadequate. It was discovered, also, that, in spite of the efforts being put forth by the normal schools, the higher teaching positions--superintendencies, high school principalships, etc.--were going to men of collegiate attainment, even at the sacrifice of professional training which was then being recognized as very desirable.

What was to be done? To make a long story short, the universities and colleges, with their more extended courses, better equipment, and stronger faculties, took the matter up and added educational departments in which could be given, with but slight additional outlay, both the academic and professional equipment thought to be needed by the high school teacher.

This work was first clearly suggested and outlined at the annual meeting of the Michigan State Teachers' Association in 1870. Dr. W. H. Payne, then city superintendent of schools at Adrian, Michigan, read a notable address upon the subject, "The Relation Between the University and Our High Schools." Eight years later, the Regents of Michigan University established a chair of "Theory and Art of Teaching," and to it called the man who had, by the address just mentioned, offered a practical as well as a logical solution of the difficult problem.

The example thus set by Michigan University was soon followed by others--Cornell, Ohio, Illinois, Harvard, Chicago and others, until now this new department is found in nearly every prominent college and university in the land. These are our teachers colleges or, rather, the sources from which they are springing. For, to be sure, not every pedagogical department found in a higher institution of learning, tho doing in a general way the same grade of work, should be called a teachers college. Tho having its roots in these, the teachers college proper differs from the most of them in several ways. The pedagogical department of a college, and too, a thoroly reputable college, may be, and usually is, merely one of the many departments of the institution, represented on its faculty by a single professor and offering but a limited range of professional work--a few courses in the history of education, principles of education, and "pedagogy," usually. A teachers college, on the other hand, has an organization and, sometimes, a financial status of its own. Its relationship to the institution as a whole is getting to be the same as that of the other professional schools. The movement is toward a separate faculty, headed by a dean, and representing all the different phases of both academic and professional work. While many of the members of the faculty do, and may continue to, give courses in the other colleges, they have a distinct, organic connection with the teachers college. The teachers college is also getting to have, as a vital part of its equipment, a model high school bearing to it the same relationship that the model, or practise, school bears to our normal schools. While this fulness of organization and equipment has not yet been reached by a large number, it has by several, among which are Columbia, Missouri, Chicago, and, approximately, North Dakota, with many others moving rapidly in the same direction.

Just a few words, now, as to the third type mentioned, the county normal school: As already suggested, the line of demarcation was not early drawn between the urban and the rural school. But cities grew; city school systems were developed; the normal schools, in spite of rapid increase, were not able to keep up with the rapidly increasing demands. And, since the field for normal school graduates has ever been an open one, they have located where the remuneration has been the most generous. Now, cities and villages are, generally speaking, the centers of intelligence as well as of population and wealth. The people of these communities have appreciated the superiority of professionally prepared teachers, and they have been able to pay the added price. The result has been that they have appropriated practically the entire output of the normal schools. None have been left for the rural schools.

And again, with these economic changes there came to be more and more clearly seen, as the years went by, a difference, internal and somewhat vital, between the schools of the rural and the urban communities, making in some ways a different sort of preparation desirable. Now, the state normal school, growing with the movement, and ever keenly alive to its opportunities for usefulness, noting clearly the location of its product, very wisely began to modify its work so as to make it better suited to the needs of its main customers--the well-graded schools of the city and village. And so it has resulted that, even if the normal schools could supply the demands for both country and city teachers, so far as numbers are concerned, the preparation given is not the most ideal for the former. And just as when professionally trained secondary teachers were needed a new institution was created for their preparation, in very recent years an institution has appeared to satisfy this new need, one whose function is as clearly announced, and one which seems to fit into the situation as well, and we have the county normal school of Michigan and Wisconsin, as mentioned above.

Whether we shall see a rapid extension of this new movement, making the county normal school as fixt an institution as the state normal school has become, and as the teachers college bids fair to become, or whether, thru consolidation, the distinctive type of our rural school shall disappear and our state normal schools be increased in number to meet the larger demands, only the future can tell. This latter, however, will not be in our generation, and I confidently look for the former. I believe the general adoption and adaptation of the county normal school idea would be one of the most economical and speedy means of solving some of our most serious rural school problems. And I also believe that it should be our next step, if we can take but one step at a time, toward professional education of teachers.

If I have analyzed aright the present situation, and have been fair in my all too brief account of the rise and development of these institutions, we see that we have in our midst to-day, as a result of the development of our educational system, and to keep pace with it, the development of the idea so long ago adopted--the value of the professional preparation of the teacher--three quite distinct types of an institution for such purpose. Enumerating now in order of grade of work rather than of historical development, we have (1) the county normal school, whose function is solely the preparation of teachers for the rural schools--sixty-one of them found only in Michigan and Wisconsin, sending into the rural schools of those states about 800 fairly well equipt teachers each year; (2) the old state normal school of historic fame, whose function is the preparation of teachers for the elementary grades of our city and village schools--195 there were two years ago--and they sent out into the schools approximately 10,000 teachers, mostly graduates; (3) the teachers college, found always in connection with a college of high rank or of a full-fledged university, offering work, both academic and professional, of full university grade and covering the full university period of four years. The number cannot be stated definitely, because the process that is transforming the old pedagogical departments into teachers colleges is at such varying stages of development. Its function is best stated in the words of the institution in which it was founded (Calendar of the University of Michigan for 1904-1905, p. 126):--

"1. To fit university students for the higher positions in the
public school service.

"2. To promote the study of educational science.

"3. To teach the history of education and of educational systems
and doctrines.

"4. To secure to teaching the rights, prerogatives and advantages
of a profession.

"5. To give a more perfect unity to our state educational system,
by bringing the secondary schools into closer relations with the
university."

"Higher position in the public school service" meant, in the main, in the early days, city superintendencies and high school principalships. To these, others have been added, one by one, owing very largely to the great success of the movement and the growing appreciation of the value of professional preparation for occupants of such positions, until now they include city superintendencies, high school and grade principalships, subject supervisorships, high school, normal school, and college instructorships. Already the leading teachers colleges, the ones at Columbia, Missouri, and Chicago universities, are being definitely looked to for these later added and more responsible workmen.

Thus far I have but stated historical facts known to all who are reasonably well informed touching the history of education and current educational practise in our country. I have done this all too briefly, I am well aware. But the reason that I could do it briefly is the fact that the readers of this journal are well informed upon the historical phases of the subject. All that I needed to do was to cull out and bring to the fore the pertinent facts. But the question now arises, is this differentiation logical? Are there any reasons, psychological, economic, or otherwise, for such differentiation? If there are, it is going to continue, and these types of the institution which now seem to have been given each such a definite and separate work to do are going to be relatively permanent. If not, we shall continue to cut and try, undoing to-morrow what was done to-day, and chaos will result.

This institution, with its various types, is not one that has evolved from a careful theoretical study of our present or prospective educational needs, but one that has grown up, little by little, step by step, to meet and satisfy from time to time the present and pressing needs of the larger system of which it forms a part, and for the service of which it was called into existence. But is it not true that oftentimes the logic of events--the movements of history--reveal to us our fundamental principles, outline for us our policy of action, and even write out for us our program of procedure as correctly and even more irrevocably than philosophical formulation could do? Is not that especially likely to occur under such a form of government as ours? I think it has occurred in the present case.

It is interesting to note in this connection the fact that the logic of events has led us, in our efforts to solve the difficult problem of the education of our teachers, to practically the same solution as that already reached by France and Germany, which countries proceeded more nearly along the pathway of theoretical philosophical formulation.

I believe that at least two of these institutions, the state normal school and the teachers college, have come to stay, and with practically the functions outlined above. Of the county normal school, as said before, I do not feel quite so sure. I am led to the belief in the relative permanency of these types of professional school, not only by a knowledge of the history of their development, but also by the conviction, formed by a somewhat careful study of the entire problem, that there are fundamental reasons, psychological as well as economical, for the differentiation. In other words, my own somewhat careful study of the entire situation brings me to the same position that the logic of events has brought us all.

As to the county normal school: it is so apparent as scarcely to need mention that the teacher of the rural school needs a preparation differing in many ways from that needed by the teacher of the city grades. The environment, physical, psychical, and social, is so different that a teacher equipt to do thoroly good work in either one place might signally fail in the other. And the present economic situation speaks with nearly the same insistence. Even if our state normal schools were sending out teachers ideally equipt for service in the rural communities, the remuneration there offered is, and for an indefinite time will remain, so low as practically to keep them out of the schools. Either we must have special institutions for the preparation of the teachers of the rural schools, or else those schools must, in the main, continue to do without professionally prepared teachers.