Chapter III: Introduction (2)

Some members of a church were discussing the problem of the spirit of incipient immorality that they felt was prevalent among children in the neighborhood. A home credit teacher showed the speakers a number of the first report cards she had received, which disclosed the fact that very few of the pupils under her care were ever in bed before nine o'clock. A few months later she took occasion to display again her pupils' home credit cards and with pride pointed out that almost every child was going to bed early, before nine o'clock. "It had grown to be a habit with the children to be up late," she said. "The immorality talked of was not yet in actual existence among the children, but through their outside evening associates was gradually working itself in. The children had only to be reminded in a substantial way that it was not only desirable for them physically to retire early, but that they were to receive recognition in their school standing for so doing, and they at once happily complied."

VII

THAT OTHER TEACHER AND THAT TEACHER'S LABORATORY

We are just beginning to discover that the rural school has
a fine laboratory for practical educational purposes, in the
neighborhood environment of the school. With the development of
scientific agriculture and domestic arts in many of our modern
country homes this laboratory is constantly improving.

_Kansas State Agricultural College Bulletin, 1914._

There is a general idea among teachers that parents will not coöperate with them. This, I believe, is founded upon the assumption that because they cannot, as a usual thing, coöperate in textbook work they will not coöperate in other things. But both parents and teachers want the same results accomplished. If these are to be attained it means partnership work, the parent and that other parent, the teacher, working together; or one might say, the teacher, and that other teacher, the parent, working together.

I have been surprised to find to what extent parents will coöperate with teachers if given a chance. Mrs. Brown goes to the schoolhouse on a bleak afternoon. She is greeted warmly by the teacher, Miss Smith, and given an arithmetic text to follow while the class recites. The lesson is on decimal fractions. Now, Mrs. Brown didn't have decimal fractions during her school days, so the recitation is quite meaningless to her. She is glad when the class is over, and does not find time to visit school again that term. But if she is asked to prepare a luncheon for the picnic at the close of the year, or asked to assist in any social function at the schoolhouse, she spends her time for the school, and is glad to do it.

In Eugene, Oregon, several years ago I found that the women of the city were enthusiastic in aiding the schools. Thirty-two women gave up Monday afternoon to teaching the girls sewing, while the boys had military drill. At a social center meeting at Hover, Washington, the suggestion was made that it would be well if one of the mothers would come to the school building occasionally to help the girls with their sewing, as the eighth-grade pupils would have to take an examination in the subject in May. So many mothers volunteered to undertake the task that a schedule was made out whereby a sewing period could be had every afternoon, and no mother be on duty oftener than every two weeks.

At Myrtle Creek, Oregon, domestic art work is carried on in this way: the teacher gives instructions in the work that is to be done; in cooking, for instance, recipes are given, talked over, and written down. The girls then go home, and actually do the work, and make a report to the teacher. They must have the signatures of their mothers for all the work they do. This is managed with a home credit report card.

Mrs. E. H. Belknap, a progressive rural teacher near Jefferson, Oregon, said in a recent letter: "We learn how a cow can be fed and cared for, so as to produce the greatest amount of butter fat. That is well, but we regard it of far more value for the boy to go home, apply the knowledge learned, and produce the butter fat. He is now worth something to the world, and able to turn his education into dollars and cents at any time. The girl takes the book, and reads how to make butter. She goes home, tends the milk, churns, and makes the butter, learns how really to do the work. She has called the attention of the entire family to the amount and quality of her butter obtained from proper feeding and handling of the cow by the boy."

And yet it is said that nothing can be done in the small school in domestic science because there is no equipment. In every home there is ideal equipment if we mean the equipment the children are to use. If we are preparing for life, why not use the equipment we must use in life? Best of all, in using the home laboratory there is an immediate purpose. None of us can get much out of an exercise when it is done just for an exercise. There is the dinner to be cooked, the bed to be made, the ironing to be done; somebody must do it. And the dinner, the bed, and the ironing are to be put to the test by some one who sees real values. There is no doubt that one of the things schools most lack is purpose.

It might be said that to stimulate a child to want to do things is only half the problem. "If children do things without expert instruction they may do them wrong, and thus get a faulty habit." But I think more than half of the problem is solved when we create the desire to do a thing. The greatest fault of present-day education is that we constantly try to teach a child how to do a thing without his desiring to do it, or even knowing the reason for doing it. On the other hand, I once knew a country girl who had never seen a domestic science equipment, and who lived in a community where there was no one housekeeper especially noted; yet with her strong desire to be a fine housekeeper she learned something good from each neighbor, and for excellent results, and for economy of time and material, her daily practice would put the average domestic science teacher to disadvantage. However I am not arguing that domestic science should not be taught at school; I certainly believe it should. But I do claim that it is worth while, and is absolutely necessary, first to create the desire to _do_ the things that are to be _taught_. To do things without a purpose is like trying to eat without an appetite.

A pamphlet published by the Kansas State Agricultural College on "School Credit for Home Work: The Laboratory of the Rural School," makes these practical points:--

Could there possibly be a more favorable condition for teaching
Domestic Arts than in the rural school from which the girl
goes every evening to a busy home where she is needed to take
part in the actual work of housekeeping? It is here that the
girl has a chance to put into actual practice the things she
has learned at school. Here the home has the chance to realize
immediately upon the investment it is making in the education of
the girl. If sanitation, ventilation, sweeping and dusting, care
of the sick, preparation of foods, care of milk, water supply
and uses, bathing, care of health, sewing, proper clothing,
etc., are taught in our schools, and if the laboratories are
in the immediate neighborhood, and the girls and boys must go
into them to stay overnight, they should be used. Likewise, the
vegetable gardens at the homes should be made the experimental
plots for the school, after the best seeds have been selected,
best methods of preparing, fertilizing, and planting the soil,
best-known methods of cultivation and maturing the crops, have
been taught. The actual experimental work should be carried out
in the home gardens by the boys and girls. Proper records can be
kept, and the boys and girls will be anxious to get back into
school, after the out-of-doors summer experiments, to compare
reports, and renew another phase of their educational work.

In agriculture the fields, stock, buildings, etc., about the
schoolhouse should be studied and used. These are the real
agricultural laboratory. The real problems of actual farming are
present, and the methods of work and the ways of handling the
fields and the stock are the available resources of the school
as a part of its actual laboratory. In this connection study
the dairy cows, the feeding of cattle, hogs, and horses, types
and breeds of farm horses, cattle, hogs, and sheep. In every
community there are many opportunities for type studies--such as
fields of alfalfa or wheat or corn; a dairy herd; valuable and
well-bred horses; beef cattle; hogs or sheep; a silo, or types
of farm machinery, and farm buildings.

It is natural for a child to want to assume home responsibilities, but there are many things that interfere unless a special effort is made. The school itself has been a great offender in weaning children from their homes and from natural living. This, of course, is not strange when we consider that the school started out to make lawyers and ministers, and not home-makers. Yet one of the great needs of the time is to make people home-loving, and to have those wholesome habits that come from sharing home responsibilities. Anything is worth while that will make the child once taste the joy of doing a useful thing well.

VIII

STELLA AND SADIE

Through ignorance ye did it.--Acts III, 17.

"Let the school go on just as it has. What business is it of the school to meddle with the home work? Of course most children do certain chores at home, but why confuse the work of the home with the work of the school?"

Have you heard this speech? I have heard it several times. Does justice demand that we know what pupils do outside of school? Must the teacher know home conditions in order to teach efficiently? I have in mind a true story that answers these questions and shows the injustice of teaching children when one knows little or nothing of their home life. I am sure most teachers have had similar experiences.

In a certain schoolroom in a certain town I noticed one day two girls in the same class sitting near each other. The contrast between them was so great that I became interested in them, and found out something of their history and circumstances. Stella, the younger one, eleven years old, was a perfect picture of rosy health. Her brown hair was beautiful and most becomingly arranged. Many women would have been delighted to wear such furs as she put on at the noon recess. Well dressed and well nourished, she had the look of one much loved at school and at home, one to whom life was all happiness.

Stella is the only child of wealthy and doting parents. If we should follow her home we should find a well-kept modern house, and we should see that the mother who greets her at the door is just such a mother as we should expect for such a girl. While the evening meal is being prepared, her mother sits beside her at the piano, and helps with her practice, and when the father comes in, the three sing together until dinner is announced. After dinner her mother helps her with her Least Common Multiple and Greatest Common Divisor. They all discuss her composition and then her mother asks her to read aloud, and reads to her. Promptly at nine o'clock she goes to bed in just the kind of room a little girl loves. The windows are opened to the proper width, the heat is turned off, she is kissed good-night, and is told, "Mother loves you, and Father will come in and kiss you when he comes home."

In the morning at seven o'clock she is called by a very gentle voice, and told it is time for Mother's angel to leave her dreams. Her mother helps her dress, and brushes and braids her hair. "What will Father's sweetheart have for breakfast this morning?" She will have grape-fruit and a poached egg on toast. After some fitting by the seamstress for a new dress to be added to her already full wardrobe, she is thoroughly inspected and is ready for school. She is given some flowers for the teacher, and is accompanied part way by her mother. She is early at school, her teacher kisses her, pats her cheeks, and Stella is ready for the lessons, the lessons her mother helped her with the evening before. There she is, happy, radiant!

Now let us go home with the other girl. Sadie is thirteen, but she looks much older notwithstanding her frail little figure. Did I say home? Be the judge. A few years ago her father and her aunt ran away together, leaving the mother with Sadie and two younger children. The broken-spirited mother died after the desertion, and the father and aunt returned, were married, and took possession of the house and the three children. They now have a baby a year old. The family live in a tumbledown house at the edge of the city. On entering the house Sadie receives no greeting from her stepmother-aunt, who is sitting by a dirty window reading. The child knows what work there is to do, and goes at it sullenly. After the meal, at which she scarcely has time to sit down, she has to do up the work, and then is sent on an errand. When she returns it is nine o'clock and she is hardly able to keep her eyes open. The Least Common Multiple and the Greatest Common Divisor are like Greek to her. After she has tried to study a few minutes, her stepmother disturbs her by throwing her brother's stockings into her lap to be mended. When this task is completed, and the potatoes are peeled for breakfast, she goes upstairs. She tenderly draws the covers about her sleeping brother and creeps into bed beside her little sister. Though she is very weary, her starved soul is comforted as she cuddles and kisses her sister before she drops to sleep.

In the night she awakens, and thinking Harry is again uncovered she slips over to his bed, like a little mother, and again adjusts the bedclothes. The baby awakens at five o'clock, and Sadie is called and told to make a fire and warm the milk. She then gets breakfast, does the kitchen work, spreads up the beds, sews a button on her brother's coat, braids her sister's hair, and is late at school.

She came in a few minutes late the morning I visited her room. The class was trying to make a record for punctuality, and had tied another room for first place until this morning when Sadie's lateness set them behind. The teacher was provoked and reproved Sadie. The pupils showed their scorn in many ways and said she was the cause of all but three of the tardy marks of the term. The teacher knew that the principal would ask her why she did not improve her tardy record. The pupils knew that their chances for a half-holiday were spoiled as long as "that Sadie Johnson" was in the room.

This morning especially the teacher wished to make a good showing because she wanted a place in a larger city and hoped that I would recommend her. Arithmetic was the first thing on the program. The principal had boasted of the work of his school in arithmetic. The work went beautifully, for Stella led off with a perfect recitation. The pride of the whole class was evident, the teacher was hopeful. But wanting to see the work of all the pupils, I asked several questions, and at last called upon Sadie. She didn't know, she stood abashed, and showed absolute lack of understanding of the subject. The principal was provoked. The teacher was plainly humiliated, and said in a tone that was low, but loud enough for Sadie and several of the children to hear, "The girl is not only lazy, but feeble-minded."

So it was the whole term. Sadie was tortured each school day, condemned by the most powerful court in the world, her companions, led by her teacher. And the reason was that the teacher was teaching only the six-hour-a-day girl. One does not have to go to Turkey to see examples of injustice and cruelty. But let us not be too critical of the teacher. She is tender-hearted and sympathetic. She weeps over the heroines in books, and has latent longings to be of service in the world. In this case she did not know the conditions that made Sadie stupid. If she had been interested in the children's out-of-school work, and had had them tell her about it, she would have known that the frail little unkempt girl was compelled to do a woman's work at home besides trying to get her lessons. Then she would have seen the tragedy in the child's appealing glance and have understood her. Some people go through life without finding an opportunity to do justice, such as was this teacher's. In ministering to the soul-hunger of this little girl she might have given the service that she had dreamed of giving. It would have been the kind of service that is its own reward.

IX

A STORY AND LETTERS FROM TEACHERS

A STORY FROM NEBRASKA, BY MRS. SARAH J. HOAGLAND

One spring found me in Nebraska teaching a school of German and Bohemian children, only two of whom spoke English. I boarded with a German family who lived about a mile from the school. In our walks to and from school I taught the children English. They and their father were born in Nebraska, but at first none of them could speak English so that I could understand it, although I understood some of their German.

The oldest boy--ten years old--lanky, with awkward gait, and fair, straight-standing hair, had a dogged, sullen look. It was a "home" look, especially when the father was around, but it left when he was trying to tell about birds or other interesting things. His telling me that he intended to work in town as soon as possible gave me a peep into his heart as regarded home. It was not a happy home. The father often drank, and at such times he was harsh and cruel. The mother was meek and subdued. She never had known how to do good housekeeping. She told me that when a girl in Germany, being large and strong, she had had to work in the fields instead of learning housework.

The farm was run down; the house was bare and unhomelike. The father's voice was often raised in upbraiding in "Low Dutch." He often had the children rounded up for punishment for starting fires or other mischief. The seven-year-old boy was more efficient, either in the home or out, than the ten-year-old boy. I noticed that he had a better head and intelligence. His efficiency was due to this, not to any better training.

The mother often cried over the brutality of the father to the oldest boy. I determined to study the situation, and I found a remedy. I learned that the father could do practically nothing in arithmetic. He had attended school for his confirmation--a little reading in German being the only apparent result. So I taught the boy arithmetic, and after I had worked with him two hours every night for several months, he could do addition better than his father. It was wonderful to see the pride and dawning respect on the father's face as the boy figured correctly the weight of many wagon-loads of grain lately taken to the elevator. I knew then that the unreasonable whipping would tend to stop. I seldom see a father unreasonable with a boy he can be proud of at school. So the sky was clear for a time.

But when the press of spring work came on and the father found he could not afford to employ help, he grew moody and was even savage again. He drank, and at times I was afraid of him myself. But I liked the mother. I knew she needed the board money for the children, and I wanted to see the case of the boy to a finish. So I stayed on. The lovely outdoor surroundings, too, made me want to stay. The orchard was beautiful--the finest in the neighborhood. The birds sang in a large maple at my window. This was a treat to a flat-dweller. Since then I have ever loved the country.

I often asked the mother what the father was saying to the oldest boy. I knew as far as the boy was concerned I could help the matter by influencing him. She said that the father was complaining that the boy was worthless as a worker. For one thing, he had milked and left the milk in the barnyard in order to play. The complaints kept pouring in on the patient mother. The father was working early and late to get abreast of the season's work. He forgot what sleep was, and grew thin and haggard and more and more savage.

I felt that only some distinct advance would have effect on either father or boy. I asked if the boy could drive a horse. He couldn't. He could not work a single piece of the machinery on the farm. That is most unusual in Nebraska, for the light soil can be worked by machinery which a boy can learn to run if he can also guide horses. The father would not teach the boy--had no patience with him. So the mother and I made our plans. She approached the father with the question of getting a team and machine for the boy. It happened to be a cornstalk cutter that was needed. The father consented, provided the mother would teach the boy! She had done such work, though she was not strong enough to do it this year.

But I saw her that Saturday toiling in the hot sun, walking up and down the rows, touching up the horses. The boy proved most apt. I soon saw him going up and down alone, still under his mother's eye, however. The boy seemed to grow two years in importance, self-reliance, and ambition in that day's work! This training was kept up out of school hours for some time, and the boy learned to work other machinery, the last thing a corn-planter.

As soon as the father realized what the boy was doing, he was a transformed man. The knowledge that he had a helper seemed to clear the atmosphere. Before this the boy had always kept out of the father's way. Now he forsook the mother! It was "Papa and me" from that time in his talk. This new attitude made it all the easier for the wife, for it was a relief from what had been her greatest trouble--having to stand between the two.

The father's pride and confidence in his son kept on growing. In many ways he was just a good-natured big giant, but he turned like a bear on anything that annoyed him.

I remember the first day the boy stayed out of school to work, how it seemed to me a deciding day in his life. I rarely like to see a child stay out of school, but that day I thought the industrial training much more important than anything I could teach the boy in those hours of school. He came regularly after the rush of work was over.

A SCHOOL IN MONTANA: MRS. HOAGLAND'S FIRST LETTER TO THE AUTHOR

Last September I heard your lecture on credit being given in
school for home work. I have tried it lately after working the
children up to grade. I started by getting acquainted with the
homes, finding out what the children did and what they could do
further. I made inquiries as to whether the children, in their
play, left things around for the mother to pick up and so on.
The spirit the work is done in counts, too, in credit given. The
work must be done pleasantly and cheerfully; the mother must be
asked for work; she is not to be hunting the child up to get him
to do the work.

One little girl of eleven made bread from beginning to end,
never having tried it entirely before. She has an overworked
mother. In another home I found the two older children took
charge of a teething baby while the mother, an ex-teacher and
rather delicate, did the housework. The little girl, six years
old, could do dishes and otherwise help the mother. In another
home the boy has grown to be the pride of his father's heart by
forcing the father back into the chair, when he was weary, and
doing the chores himself.

One boy, his father told me two weeks ago, was growing as
dependable as his brother five years older, and helped bring the
cows, herd cattle from one field to another before and after
school and on non-school days. There was much other work, light
in itself, but wonderfully helpful to his father, that was taken
charge of cheerfully.

One child's father had a hired man. The boy did but little.
He is eight years old and large. While visiting there, I saw
his father bringing in coal. I told the boy he would find it
necessary to look up work if he cared for credit. His mother
visited school shortly after this; I was telling her of the idea
and she said she now understood why Bennie had started to clear
the table several times, and so on. We had a very happy laugh
over it. The boy hunts the eggs, gets in the wood and coal,
makes the mash for the chickens, and helps wash the dishes.

Another child, aged thirteen, has to do much outside work, so
she feels good over getting credit for it. It is a kind of pay
that makes her days pleasanter. I believe each child richly
deserves the credit I have given. The results have been to make
the tie between the parents and myself stronger, and I am asked
to come back next year. I have seen a gladder, prouder light
in the parents' eyes concerning their children. It has helped
to make our school in some respects without a superior in the
county, according to the county superintendent's own word. A
member of the board says the children never have made such
progress since the school was built, and all say these children
never have made as much progress before. They are learning, as
far as I can teach them, the honor of labor and the beauty of
being useful, willing, and dependable. I have had a hard battle
to wage here for good, thorough work and application, but the
right has won.

I enclose a report that shows the kinds of work the children are
in the habit of doing.

I am the teacher who spoke to you about the new oats being
brought into the dryland country. It is now being introduced
into another part of Montana where my homestead is. You will
perhaps remember me.

Very sincerely,
MRS. S. J. HOAGLAND.

BENNIE McCOY ADDISON SHIRLEY

_Aged 8_ _Aged 9_

Dries dishes Takes out ashes
Makes fire Gets eggs
Pulled up sunflower stalks Gets coal and kindling
Milks (some) Feeds horses oats (15 head)
Gets in coal and kindling Cleans out barn
Gathers eggs Milks cows sometimes
Brings in wood Drives cattle
Carries ashes out Harnesses up
Smashes big coal for stove Hunts eggs
Turns churn Waters horses
Feeds cats Dries dishes
Gets chicken feed Cooks (eggs, pancakes, coffee)
Feeds sitting hen Sets table
Helps catch calves Fries apples and bakes them
Gets clean hay for chicken nests Peels potatoes
Clears table Fries potatoes
Turns windmill[3] Feeds chickens
Slops hogs Carries slop to hogs
Kills flies Drives to town
Fixed his hand cart

[3] Probably means turns the power on or off.

JOHNNIE MAHONEY LOVILO MURRAY
_Aged 6_ _Aged 5_

Feeds pig Opens gate for calves
Hunts eggs Gets kindling
Waters horse Gets coal
Told where sow and her new pigs Takes care of baby
were when no one else could Closes chicken-house door
find them Carries wood
Minds baby Dries dishes
Hunts firewood Leads horses to plow

MAY MAHONEY ALEEN MURRAY
_Aged 11_ _Aged 7_

Bakes bread Washes and dries dishes
Washes dishes Sweeps floor
Minds baby Does simple ironing
Gets coal and water Gets wood, water, and coal
Gathers eggs Closes chicken-house door
Makes cake Dresses baby
Gets cows Tends baby
Waters horses
Pumps water SUSIE MARCKINO
Sewed a doll petticoat _Aged 13_
Sewed sleeves in waist for little
brother Cooks meals
Scrubs Washes dishes
Irons Scrubs
Cooks meals Irons
Peels potatoes Sews--made a waist and a baby
Takes out ashes dress
Dusts Gets coal
Sweeps Feeds chickens
Makes beds Goes for horse
Airs bedding Brings water
Milks cows Gets hay and feeds horses
Feeds calf Builds fires
Hays horses Turns churn
Builds fires Polishes stoves
Turns churn Cares for young chickens
Feeds chickens Dusts
Feeds sitting hens Salts horses
Sets and clears table
Washes range ROSIE MARCKINO
Polishes cutlery _Aged 6_
Does light washing
Prepares vegetables Gets water
Did dishes with four-year-old sister
when all else were gone
A general little helper

A LETTER FROM MRS. E. H. BELKNAP, MARION COUNTY, OREGON

I believe intensely in an education that teaches the boy or girl not only how the book says to do a thing, but how, by actual experience and practice, that thing is best worked out and brought to perfection....

In this district we have used home credits for two years. First, in order to make this a success, the teacher must believe in it, and must be a worker. We have given credits for everything from plowing to washing the baby for breakfast. As a result we have the little girls dressing their own hair for school, the older ones cooking breakfast, washing, ironing, etc. The boys plow, milk, clean stables, cut wood, feed horses, do all kinds of work for credits; _doing it, they have become interested in it, and before they knew it a habit has been formed of doing things at the right time in the right way_. It is truly wonderful what these children do. Some of them walk three or four miles, and still earn hundreds of credits in a week. Some of my girls milk as many as eight cows twice a day, and the boys plow and harrow acres of ground. They do the work gladly, too.

Monday mornings we give out blanks to be filled out, signed by parents, and returned the following Monday morning. We always go over the cards carefully. _I call the names aloud, and the pupils report quickly. If extra work has been accomplished I always try to praise the effort. It is a happy hour when the reports are rendered._

At first we agreed that when any pupil earned six hundred or more credits he should be entitled to a holiday. Thousands of credits have been earned, but no one has asked for the holiday! Frequently, when the pupil has been ill, or forced to miss a day, he has asked that the credits be applied to blot out the absent marks, and this has always been granted.