He will be discouraged, and will be ready to set the pail down. Say to him, on the other hand, "I had better dismount myself. I don't think you can hold the pail up. It is very heavy;" and his eye will brighten up at once. "Oh no, sir," he will reply, "I can hold it very easily." Hence, even if the work you are assigning to a class is easy, do not tell them so unless you wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in doing it; and if you wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your work difficult, and let them see that you know it is so; not so difficult as to tax their powers too heavily, but enough so to require a vigorous and persevering effort. Let them distinctly understand, too, that you know it is difficult, that you mean to make it so, but that they have your sympathy and encouragement in the efforts which it calls them to make.

You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I have described by some such experiment as the following. Select two classes not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each of them the following example in addition:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 etc., etc.

The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or, if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this:

Multiply 123456789 by 123456789 ————-

Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the pupils as follows:

"I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult one that can be made with the number of figures contained in it, and I do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be surprised if every answer should contain mistakes."

To the other class say as follows:

"I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you can all do it correctly, if you really try."

Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with ardor and alacrity, determined to show you that they can do work, even if it is difficult; and if they succeed, they come to the class the next day with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something which you admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second class will go to their seats with murmuring looks and words, and with a hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is really difficult for them; and they have to be perplexed and wearied with the work, without having, at last, even the little satisfaction of knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they had to contend.

2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a teacher's work. The great difference which exists among teachers in regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here is of more avail in deciding the question of success or failure than any thing besides. The first great principle is, however, simple and effectual.

(1.) Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so short that the pupil can easily take them.

Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analogous to that of the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by his side, wearying and exhausting himself with fruitless efforts to reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly as a full-grown man.

But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process so as to make each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example. I will suppose that the teacher of a common school undertakes to show his boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but elementary arithmetic, how longitude is determined by means of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, but still one which, like all others, may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded to, easily explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a general exercise; perhaps the question was asked in writing by one of the older boys. I will present the explanation chiefly in the form of question and answer, that it may be seen that the steps are so short that the boys may take them themselves.

"Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?"

"West," answer two or three of the boys.

In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be general, so that throughout the school there should be a spirited interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case if a small number of the boys only take part in the answers, and many teachers complain that when they try this experiment they can seldom induce many of the pupils to take a part.

The reason ordinarily is that they say that any of the boys may answer instead of that all of them may. The boys do not get the idea that it is wished that a universal reply should come from all parts of the room, in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were feeble in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say,

"I only heard one or two answers; do not more of you know where the Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think and answer together? Which way are they from us?"

"West," answer a large number of boys.

"You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have every one in the room answer, and all precisely together."

He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar effort will always succeed.

"Now does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky Mountains, or over us, first?"

To this question the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and others still, "The sun does not move at all."

"It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth turns round, presenting the various countries in succession to the sun, but the effect is precisely the same as it would be if the sun moved, and, accordingly, I use that language. Now how long does it take the sun to pass round the earth?"

"Twenty-four hours."

"Does he go toward the west or toward the east from us?"

"Toward the west."

But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil, by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be explained.

"Will the sun go toward or from the Rocky Mountains after leaving us?"

"How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe and come to us again?"

"How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?"

"How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?"

No answer.

"You can not tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose, then, the Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?"

"The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees—360 in all. How many will the sun pass in going half round?" "In going quarter round?"

"Ninety degrees, then, make one quarter of the circumference of the globe. This, you have already said, will take six hours. In one hour, then, how many degrees will the sun pass over?"

Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question on the principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the pupils can take them.

"How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?"

"Forty-five."

"How large a part of that, then, will he pass in one hour?"

"One third of it."

"And what is one third of forty-five?"

The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell for a moment on the general truth thus deduced, that the sun, in passing round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour.

"Suppose, then, it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the River Mississippi, how many degrees west of us would the river be?"

Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact that the motion of the sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two places, the teacher must dismiss the subject for a day, and when the next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would, perhaps, take up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure of time.

"Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?"

"Is he ever exactly south of us?"

"When he is exactly south of us, or, in other words, exactly opposite to us in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian; for the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any place."

There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point, for instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are not in his meridian. But to proceed:

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, in the south, at the highest point to which he rises, what o'clock is it?"

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, can he be opposite to the Rocky Mountains?"

"Does he get opposite to the Rocky Mountains before or after he is opposite to us?"

"When he is opposite to the Rocky Mountains, what o'clock is it there?"

"Is it twelve o'clock here, then, before or after it is twelve o'clock there?"

"Suppose the River Mississippi is fifteen degrees from us, how long is it twelve o'clock here before it is twelve o'clock there?"

"When it is twelve o'clock here, then, what time will it be there?"

Some will probably answer "one," and some "eleven." If so, the step is too long, and may be subdivided thus:

"When it is noon here, is the sun going toward the Mississippi, or has he passed it?"

"Then has noon gone by at that river, or has it not yet come?"

"Then will it be one hour before or one hour after noon?"

"Then will it be eleven or one?"

Such minuteness and simplicity would, in ordinary cases, not be necessary. I go into it here merely to show how, by simply subdividing the steps, a subject ordinarily perplexing may be made plain. The reader will observe that in the above there are no explanations by the teacher—there are not even leading questions; that is, there are no questions the form of which suggests the answers desired. The pupil goes on from step to step simply because he has but one short step to take at a time.

"Can it be noon, then," continues the teacher, "here and at a place fifteen degrees west of us at the same time?"

"Can it be noon here and at a place ten miles west of us at the same time?"

It is unnecessary to continue the illustration, for it will be very evident to every reader that, by going forward in this way, the whole subject may be laid out before the pupils so that they shall perfectly understand it. They can, by a series of questions like the above, be led to see, by their own reasoning, that time, as denoted by the clock, must differ in every two places not upon the same meridian, and that the difference must be exactly proportional to the difference of longitude. So that a watch which is right in one place can not, strictly speaking, be right in any other place east or west of the first; and that, if the time of day at two places can be compared, either by taking a chronometer from one to another, or by observing some celestial phenomenon, like the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, and ascertaining precisely the time of their occurrence, according to the reckoning at both, the distance east or west by degrees may be determined. The reader will observe, too, that the method by which this explanation is made is strictly in accordance with the principle I am illustrating, which is by simply dividing the process into short steps. There is no ingenious reasoning on the part of the teacher, no happy illustrations, no apparatus, no diagrams. It is a pure process of mathematical reasoning, made clear and easy by simple analysis.

In applying this method, however, the teacher should be very careful not to subdivide too much. It is best that the pupils should walk as fast as they can. The object of the teacher should be to smooth the path not much more than barely enough to enable the pupil to go on. He should not endeavor to make it very easy.

(2.) Truths must not only be taught to the pupils, but they must fixed, and made familiar. This is a point which seems to be very generally overlooked.

"Can you say the Multiplication Table?" said a teacher to a boy who was standing before him in his class.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I should like to have you say the line beginning nine times one."

The boy repeated it slowly, but correctly.

"Now I should like to have you try again, and I will, at the same time, say another line, to see if I can put you out."

The boy looked surprised. The idea of his teacher's trying to perplex and embarrass him was entirely new.

"You must not be afraid," said the teacher. "You will undoubtedly not succeed in getting through, but you will not be to blame for the failure. I only try it as a sort of intellectual experiment."

The boy accordingly began again, but was soon completely confused by the teacher's accompaniment. He stopped in the middle of his line, saying,

"I could say it, only you put me out."

"Well, now try to say the Alphabet, and let me see if I can put you out there."

As might have been expected, the teacher failed. The boy went regularly onward to the end.

"You see, now," said the teacher to the class who had witnessed the experiment, "that this boy knows his Alphabet in a different sense from that in which he knows his Multiplication Table. In the latter, his knowledge is only imperfectly his own; he can make use of it only under favorable circumstances. In the former it is entirely his own; circumstances have no control over him."

A child has a lesson in Latin Grammar to recite. She hesitates and stammers, miscalls the cases, and then corrects herself, and, if she gets through at last, she considers herself as having recited well, and very many teachers would consider it well too. If she hesitates a little longer than usual in trying to summon to her recollection a particular word, she says, perhaps, "Don't tell me," and if she happens at last to guess right, she takes her book with a countenance beaming with satisfaction.

"Suppose you had the care of an infant school," might the instructor say to such a scholar, "and were endeavoring to teach a little child to count, and she should recite her lesson to you in this way, 'One, two, four—no, three—one, two, three——stop, don't tell me—five—no, four—four—five————I shall think in a minute—six—is that right? five, six,' &c. Should you call that reciting well?"

Nothing is more common than for pupils to say, when they fail of reciting their lesson, that they could say it at their seats, but that they can not now say it before the class. When such a thing is said for the first time it should not be severely reproved, because nine children in ten honestly think that if the lesson were learned so that it could be recited any where, their duty is discharged. But it should be kindly, though distinctly explained to them, that in the business of life they must have their knowledge so much at command that they can use it at all times and in all circumstances, or it will do them little good.

One of the most common cases of difficulty in pursuing mathematical studies, or studies of any kind where the succeeding lessons depend upon those which precede, is the fact that the pupil, though he may understand what precedes, is not familiar with it. This is very strikingly the case with Geometry. The class study the definitions, and the teacher supposes they fully understand them; in fact, they do understand them, but the name and the thing are so feebly connected in their minds that a direct effort and a short pause are necessary to recall the idea when they hear or see the word. When they come on, therefore, to the demonstrations, which in themselves would be difficult enough, they have double duty to perform. The words used do not readily suggest the idea, and the connection of the ideas requires careful study. Under this double burden many a young geometrician sinks discouraged.

A class should go on slowly, and dwell on details so long as to fix firmly and make perfectly familiar whatever they undertake to learn. In this manner the knowledge they acquire will become their own. It will be incorporated, as it were, into their very minds, and they can not afterward be deprived of it.

The exercises which have for their object this rendering familiar what has been learned may be so varied as to interest the pupil very much, instead of being tiresome, as it might at first be supposed.

Suppose, for instance, a teacher has explained to a large class in grammar the difference between an adjective and an adverb; if he leave it here, in a fortnight one half of the pupils would have forgotten the distinction, but by dwelling upon it a few lessons he may fix it forever. The first lesson might be to require the pupils to write twenty short sentences containing only adjectives. The second to write twenty containing only adverbs. The third to write sentences in two forms, one containing the adjective, and the other expressing the same idea by means of the adverb, arranging them in two columns, thus:

He writes well. His writing is good.

Again, they may make out a list of adjectives, with the adverbs derived from each in another column. Then they may classify adverbs on the principle of their meaning, or according to their termination. The exercise may be infinitely varied, and yet the object of the whole may be to make perfectly familiar, and to fix forever in the mind the distinction explained.

These two points seem to me to be fundamental, so far as assisting pupils through the difficulties which lie in their way is concerned. Diminish the difficulties as far as is necessary by shortening and simplifying the steps, and make thorough work as you go on. These principles, carried steadily into practice, will be effectual in leading any mind through any difficulties which may occur. And though they can not, perhaps, be fully applied to every mind in a large school, yet they can be so far acted upon in reference to the whole mass as to accomplish the object for a very large majority.

3. General cautions. A few miscellaneous suggestions, which we shall include under this head, will conclude this chapter.

(1.) Never do any thing for a scholar, but teach him to do it for himself. How many cases occur in the schools of our country where the boy brings his slate to the teacher, saying he can not do a certain sum. The teacher takes the slate and pencil, performs the work in silence, brings the result, and returns the slate to the hands of his pupil, who walks off to his seat, and goes to work on the next example, perfectly satisfied with the manner in which he is passing on. A man who has not done this a hundred times himself will hardly believe it possible that such a practice can prevail, it is so evidently a mere waste of time both for master and scholar.

(2.) Never get out of patience with dullness. Perhaps I ought to say, never get out of patience with any thing. That would, perhaps, be the wisest rule. But, above all things, remember that dullness and stupidity—and you will certainly find them in every school—are the very last things to get out of patience with. If the Creator has so formed the mind of a boy that he must go through life slowly and with difficulty, impeded by obstructions which others do not feel, and depressed by discouragements which others never know, his lot is surely hard enough without having you to add to it the trials and suffering which sarcasm and reproach from you can heap upon him. Look over your school-room, therefore, and wherever you find one whom you perceive the Creator to have endued with less intellectual power than others, fix your eye upon him with an expression of kindness and sympathy. Such a boy will have suffering enough from the selfish tyranny of his companions; he ought to find in you a protector and friend. One of the greatest enjoyments which a teacher's life affords is the interest of seeking out such a one, bowed down with burdens of depression and discouragement, unaccustomed to sympathy and kindness, and expecting nothing for the future but a weary continuation of the cheerless toils which have imbittered the past; and the pleasure of taking off the burden, of surprising the timid, disheartened sufferer by kind words and cheering looks, and of seeing in his countenance the expression of ease and even of happiness gradually returning.

(3.) The teacher should be interested in all his scholars, and aim equally to secure the progress of all. Let there be no neglected ones in the school-room. We should always remember that, however unpleasant in countenance and manners that bashful boy in the corner may be, or however repulsive in appearance, or unhappy in disposition, that girl, seeming to be interested in nobody, and nobody appearing interested in her, they still have, each of them, a mother, who loves her own child, and takes a deep and constant interest in its history. Those mothers have a right, too, that their children should receive their full share of attention in a school which has been established for the common and equal benefit of all.

(4.) Do not hope or attempt to make all your pupils alike. Providence has determined that human minds should differ from each other for the very purpose of giving variety and interest to this busy scene of life. Now if it were possible for a teacher so to plan his operations as to send his pupils forth upon the community formed on the same model, as if they were made by machinery, he would do so much toward spoiling one of the wisest of the plans which the Almighty has formed for making this world a happy scene. Let it be the teacher's aim to co-operate with, not vainly to attempt to thwart, the designs of Providence. We should bring out those powers with which the Creator has endued the minds placed under our control. We must open our garden to such influences as shall bring forward all the plants, each in a way corresponding to its own nature. It is impossible if it were wise, and it would be foolish if it were possible, to stimulate, by artificial means, the rose, in hope of its reaching the size and magnitude of the apple-tree, or to try to cultivate the fig and the orange where wheat only will grow. No; it should be the teacher's main design to shelter his pupils from every deleterious influence, and to bring every thing to bear upon the community of minds before him which will encourage in each one the development of its own native powers. For the rest, he must remember that his province is to cultivate, not to create.

Error on this point is very common. Many teachers, even among those who have taken high rank through the success with which they have labored in the field, have wasted much time in attempting to do what never can be done, to form the character of those brought under their influence after a certain uniform model, which they have conceived as the standard of excellence. Their pupils must write just such a hand, they must compose in just such a style, they must be similar in sentiment and feeling, and their manners must be formed according to a fixed and uniform model; and when, in such a case, a pupil comes under their charge whom Providence has designed to be entirely different from the beau ideal adopted as the standard, more time, and pains, and anxious solicitude is wasted in vain attempts to produce the desired conformity than half the school require beside.

(5.) Do not allow the faults or obliquities of character, or the intellectual or moral wants of any individual of your pupils to engross a disproportionate share of your time. I have already said that those who are peculiarly in need of sympathy or help should receive the special attention they seem to require; what I mean to say now is, do not carry this to an extreme. When a parent sends you a pupil who, in consequence of neglect or mismanagement at home, has become wild and ungovernable, and full of all sorts of wickedness, he has no right to expect that you shall turn your attention away from the wide field which, in your whole school-room, lies before you, to spend your time, and exhaust your spirits and strength in endeavoring to repair the injuries which his own neglect has occasioned. When you open a school, you do not engage, either openly or tacitly, to make every pupil who may be sent to you a learned or a virtuous man. You do engage to give them all faithful instruction, and to bestow upon each such a degree of attention as is consistent with the claims of the rest. But it is both unwise and unjust to neglect the many trees in your nursery which, by ordinary attention, may be made to grow straight and tall, and to bear good fruit, that you may waste your labor upon a crooked stick, from which all your toil can secure very little beauty or fruitfulness.

Let no one now understand me to say that such cases are to be neglected. I admit the propriety, and, in fact, have urged the duty, of paying to them a little more than their due share of attention. What I now condemn is the practice, of which all teachers are in danger, of devoting such a disproportionate and unreasonable degree of attention to them as to encroach upon their duties to others. The school, the whole school, is your field, the elevation of the mass in knowledge and virtue, and no individual instance, either of dullness or precocity, should draw you away from its steady pursuit.

(6.) The teacher should guard against unnecessarily imbibing those faulty mental habits to which his station and employment expose him. Accustomed to command, and to hold intercourse with minds which are immature and feeble compared with our own, we gradually acquire habits that the rough collisions and the friction of active life prevent from gathering around other men. Narrow-minded prejudices and prepossessions are imbibed through the facility with which, in our own little community, we adopt and maintain opinions. A too strong confidence in our own views on every subject almost inevitably comes from never hearing our opinions contradicted or called in question, and we express those opinions in a tone of authority, and even sometimes of arrogance, which we acquire in the school-room, for there, when we speak, nobody can reply.

These peculiarities show themselves first, and, in fact, most commonly, in the school-room; and the opinions thus formed very often relate to the studies and management of the school. One has a peculiar mode of teaching spelling, which is successful almost entirely through the magic influence of his interest in it, and he thinks no other mode of teaching this branch is even tolerable. Another must have all his pupils write on the angular system, or the anti-angular system, and he enters with all the zeal into a controversy on the subject, as if the destiny of the whole rising generation depended upon its decision. Tell him that all that is of any consequence in any handwriting is that it should be legible, rapid, and uniform, and that, for the rest, it would be better that every human being should write a different hand, and he looks upon you with astonishment, wondering that you can not see the vital importance of the question whether the vertex of an o should, be pointed or round. So in every thing. He has his way in every minute particular—a way from which he can not deviate, and to which he wishes every one else to conform.

This set, formal mannerism is entirely inconsistent with that commanding intellectual influence which the teacher should exert in the administration of his school. He should work with what an artist calls boldness and freedom of touch. Activity and enterprise of mind should characterize all his measures if he wishes to make bold, original, and efficient men.

(7.) Assume no false appearances in your school either as to knowledge or character. Perhaps it may justly be said to be the common practice of teachers in this country to affect a dignity of deportment in the presence of their pupils which in other cases is laid aside, and to pretend to superiority in knowledge and an infallibility of judgment which no sensible man would claim before other sensible men, but which an absurd fashion seems to require of the teacher. It can, however, scarcely be said to be a fashion, for the temptation is almost exclusively confined to the young and the ignorant, who think they must make up by appearance what they want in reality. Very few of the older, and more experienced, and successful instructors in our country fall into it at all; but some young beginner, whose knowledge is very limited, and who, in manner and habits, has only just ceased to be a boy, walks into his school-room with a countenance of forced gravity, and with a dignified and solemn step, which is ludicrous even to himself. I describe accurately, for I describe from recollection. This unnatural, and forced, and ludicrous dignity cleaves to him like a disease through the whole period of his duty. In the presence of his scholars he is always under restraint, assuming a stiff and formal dignity which is as ridiculous as it is unnatural. He is also obliged to resort to arts which are certainly not very honorable to conceal his ignorance.

A scholar, for example, brings him a sum in arithmetic which he does not know how to perform. This may be the case with a most excellent teacher, and one well qualified for his business. In order to be successful as a teacher, it is not necessary to understand every thing. Instead, however, of saying frankly, "I do not understand that example; I will examine it," he looks at it embarrassed and perplexed, not knowing how he shall escape the exposure of his ignorance. His first thought is to give some general directions to the pupil, and send him to his seat to make a new experiment, hoping that in some way or other, he scarcely knows how, he will get through; and, at any rate, if he should not, the teacher thinks that he himself at least gains time by the manoeuvre, and he is glad to postpone his trouble, though he knows it must soon return.

All efforts to conceal ignorance, and all affectation of knowledge not possessed, are as unwise as they are dishonest. If a scholar asks a question which you can not answer, or brings you a difficulty which you can not solve, say frankly, "I do not know." It is the only way to avoid continual anxiety and irritation, and the surest means of securing real respect. Let the scholars understand that the superiority of the teacher does not consist in his infallibility, or in his universal acquisitions, but in a well-balanced mind, where the boundary between knowledge and ignorance is distinctly marked; in a strong desire to go forward in mental improvement, and in fixed principles of action and systematic habits. You may even take up in school a study entirely new to you, and have it understood at the outset that you know no more of it than the class commencing, but that you can be their guide on account of the superior maturity and discipline of your powers, and the comparative ease with which you can meet and overcome difficulties. This is the understanding which ought always to exist between master and scholars. The fact that the teacher does not know every thing can not long be concealed if he tries to conceal it, and in this, as in every other case, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.



CHAPTER IV.

MORAL DISCIPLINE.

Under the title which I have placed at the head of this chapter I intend to discuss the methods by which the teacher is to secure a moral ascendency over his pupils, so that he may lead them to do what is right, and bring them back to duty when they do what is wrong. I shall use, in what I have to say, a very plain and familiar style; and as very much depends not only on the general principles by which the teacher is actuated, but also on the tone and manner in which, in cases of discipline, he addresses his pupils, I shall describe particular cases, real and imaginary, because by this method I can better illustrate the course to be pursued. I shall also present and illustrate the various principles which I consider important, and in the order in which they occur to my mind.

1. The first duty, then, of the teacher when he enters his school is to beware of the danger of making an unfavorable impression at first upon his pupils. Many years ago, when I was a child, the teacher of the school where my early studies were performed closed his connection with the establishment, and after a short vacation another was expected. On the appointed day the boys began to collect, some from curiosity, at an early hour, and many speculations were started as to the character of the new instructor. We were standing near a table with our hats on—and our position, and the exact appearance of the group, is indelibly fixed on my memory—when a small and youthful-looking man entered the room, and walked up toward us. Supposing him to be some stranger, or, rather, not making any supposition at all, we stood looking at him as he approached, and were thunder-struck at hearing him accost us with a stern voice and sterner brow, "Take off your hats. Take off your hats and go to your seats." The conviction immediately rushed upon our minds that this must be our new teacher. The first emotion was that of surprise, and the second was that of the ludicrous, though I believe we contrived to smother the laugh until we got out into the open air.

So long since was this little occurrence that I have entirely forgotten the name of the teacher, and have not the slightest recollection of any other act in his administration of the school. But this recollection of his first greeting of his pupils, and the expression of his countenance at the moment, will go with me to the end of life. So strong are first impressions.

Be careful, then, when you first see your pupils, that you meet them with a smile. I do not mean a pretended cordiality, which has no existence in the heart, but think of the relation which you are to sustain to them, and think of the very interesting circumstances under which, for some months at least, your destinies are to be united to theirs, until you can not help feeling a strong interest in them. Shut your eyes for a day or two to their faults, if possible, and take an interest in all their pleasures and pursuits, that the first attitude in which you exhibit yourself before them may be one which shall allure, not repel.

2. In endeavoring to correct the faults of your pupils, do not, as many teachers do, seize only upon those particular cases of transgression which may happen to come under your notice. These individual instances are very few, probably, compared with the whole number of faults against which you ought to exert an influence. And though you perhaps ought not to neglect those which may accidentally come under your notice, yet the observing and punishing such cases is a very small part of your duty.

You accidentally hear, I will suppose, as you are walking home from school, two of your boys in earnest conversation, and one of them uses profane language. Now the course to be pursued in such a case is, most evidently, not to call the boy to you the next day and punish him, and there let the matter rest. This would, perhaps, be better than nothing. But the chief impression which it would make upon the individual and upon the other scholars would be, "I must take care how I let the master hear me use such language again." A wise teacher, who takes enlarged and extended views of his duty in regard to the moral progress of his pupils, would act very differently. He would look at the whole subject. "Does this fault," he would say to himself, "prevail among my pupils? If so, how extensively? It is comparatively of little consequence to punish the particular transgression. The great point is to devise some plan to reach the whole evil, and to correct it if possible."

In one case where such a circumstance occurred, the teacher managed it most successfully in the following manner.

He said nothing to the boy, and, in fact, the boy did not know that he was overheard. He allowed a day or two to elapse, so that the conversation might be forgotten, and then took an opportunity one day, after school, when all things had gone on pleasantly, and the school was about to be closed, to bring forward the whole subject. He told the boys that he had something to say to them after they had laid by their books and were ready to go home. The desks were soon closed, and every face in the room was turned toward the master with a look of fixed attention. It was almost evening. The sun had gone down. The boys' labors were over. Their duties for the day were over; their minds were at rest, and every thing was favorable for making a deep and permanent impression.

"A few days ago," says the teacher, when all was still, "I accidentally overheard some conversation between two of the boys of this school, and one of them swore."

There was a pause.

"Perhaps you expect that I am now going to call the boy out and punish him. Is that what I ought to do?"

There was no answer.

"I think a boy who uses bad language of any kind does what he knows is wrong. He breaks God's commands. He does what he knows would be displeasing to his parents, and he sets a bad example. He does wrong, therefore, and justly deserves punishment."

There were, of course, many boys who felt that they were in danger. Every one who had used profane language was aware that he might be the one who had been overheard, and, of course, all were deeply interested in what the teacher was saying.

"He might, I say," continued the teacher, "justly be punished; but I am not going to punish him; for if I should, I am afraid that it would only make him a little more careful hereafter not to commit this sin when I could possibly be within hearing, instead of persuading him, as I wish to, to avoid such a sin in future altogether. I am satisfied that that boy would be far happier, even in this world, if he would make it a principle always to do his duty, and never, in any case, to do wrong. And then, when I think how soon he and all of us will be in another world, where we shall all be judged for what we do here, I feel strongly desirous of persuading him to abandon entirely this practice. I am afraid that punishing him now would not do that.

"Besides," continues the teacher, "I think it very probable that there are many other boys in this school who are sometimes guilty of this fault, and I have thought that it would be a great deal better and happier for us all if, instead of punishing this particular boy whom I have accidentally overheard, and who probably is not more to blame than many other boys in school, I should bring up the whole subject, and endeavor to persuade all the boys to reform."

I am aware that there are, unfortunately, in our country a great many teachers from whose lips such an appeal as this would be wholly in vain. The man who is accustomed to scold, and storm, and punish with unsparing severity every transgression, under the influence of irritation and anger, must not expect that he can win over his pupils to confidence in him and to the principles of duty by a word. But such an appeal will not be lost when it comes from a man whose daily and habitual management corresponds with it. But to return to the story:

The teacher made some farther remarks, explaining the nature of the sin, not in the language of execration and affected abhorrence, but calmly, temperately, and without any disposition to make the worst of the occurrence which had taken place. In concluding what he said, he addressed the boys as follows:

"Now, boys, the question is, do you wish to abandon this habit or not? If you do, all is well. I shall immediately forget all the past, and will do all I can to help you resist and overcome temptation in future. But all I can do is only to help you; and the first thing to be done, if you wish to engage in this work of reform, is to acknowledge your fault; and I should like to know how many are willing to do this."

"I wish all those who are willing to tell me whether they use profane language would rise."

Every individual but one rose.

"I am very glad to see so large a number," said the teacher; "and I hope you will find that the work of confessing and forsaking your faults is, on the whole, pleasant, not painful business. Now those who can truly and honestly say that they never do use profane language of any kind may take their seats."

Three only of the whole number, which consisted of not far from twenty, sat down. It was in a sea-port town, where the temptation to yield to this vice is even greater than would be, in the interior of our country, supposed possible.

"Those who are now standing," pursued the teacher, "admit that they do, sometimes at least, commit this sin. I suppose all, however, are determined to reform; for I do not know what else should induce you to rise and acknowledge it here, unless it is a desire hereafter to break yourselves of the habit. But do you suppose that it will be enough for you merely to resolve here that you will reform?"

"No, sir," said the boys.

"Why not? If you now sincerely determine never more to use a profane word, will you not easily avoid it?"

The boys were silent. Some said faintly, "No, sir."

"It will not be easy for you to avoid the sin hereafter," continued the teacher, "even if you do now sincerely and resolutely determine to do so. You have formed the habit of sin, and the habit will not be easily overcome. But I have detained you long enough now. I will try to devise some method by which you may carry your plan into effect, and to-morrow I will tell you what it is."

So the boys were dismissed for the day; the pleasant countenance and cheerful tone of the teacher conveying to them the impression that they were engaging in the common effort to accomplish a most desirable purpose, in which they were to receive the teacher's help, not that he was pursuing them, with threatening and punishment, into the forbidden practice into which they had wickedly strayed. Great caution is, however, in such a case, necessary to guard against the danger that the teacher, in attempting to avoid the tones of irritation and anger, should so speak of the sin as to blunt his pupils' sense of its guilt, and lull their consciences into a slumber.

At the appointed time on the following day the subject was again brought before the school, and some plans proposed by which the resolutions now formed might be more certainly kept. These plans were readily and cheerfully adopted by the boys, and in a short time the vice of profaneness was, in a great degree, banished from the school.

I hope the reader will keep in mind the object of the above illustration, which is to show that it is the true policy of the teacher not to waste his time and strength in contending against such accidental instances of transgression as may chance to fall under his notice, but to take an enlarged and extended view of the whole ground, endeavoring to remove whole classes of faults—to elevate and improve multitudes together.

By these means, his labors will not only be more effectual, but far more pleasant. You can not come into collision with an individual scholar, to punish him for a mischievous spirit, or even to rebuke him for some single act by which he has given you trouble, without an uncomfortable and uneasy feeling, which makes, in ordinary cases, the discipline of a school the most unpleasant part of a teacher's duty. But you can plan a campaign against a whole class of faults, and put into operation a system of measures to correct them, and watch from day to day the operation of that system with all the spirit and interest of a game. It is, in fact, a game where your ingenuity and moral power are brought into the field, in opposition to the evil tendencies of the hearts which are under your influence. You will notice the success or the failure of the means you may put into operation with all the interest with which the experimental philosopher observes the curious processes he guides, though your interest may be much purer and higher, for he works upon matter, but you are experimenting upon mind.

Remember, then, as for the first time you take your new station at the head of your school, that it is not your duty simply to watch with an eagle eye for those accidental instances of transgression which may chance to fall under your notice. You are to look over the whole ground. You are to make yourself acquainted, as soon as possible, with the classes of character and classes of faults which may prevail in your dominions, and to form deliberate and well-digested plans for improving the one and correcting the other.

And this is to be the course pursued not only with great delinquencies, such as those to which I have already alluded, but to every little transgression against the rules of order and propriety. You can correct them far more easily and pleasantly in the mass than in detail.

To illustrate this principle by another case. A teacher, who takes the course I am condemning, approaches the seat of one of his pupils, and asks to see one of his books. As the boy opens his desk, the teacher observes that it is in complete disorder. Books, maps, papers, play-things, are there in promiscuous confusion, and, from the impulse of the moment, the displeased teacher pours out upon the poor boy a torrent of reproach.

"What a looking desk! Why, John, I am really ashamed of you! Look!" continues he, holding up the lid, so that the boys in the neighborhood can look in; "see what a mass of disorder and confusion. If ever I see your desk in such a state again, I shall most certainly punish you."

The boys around laugh, very equivocally, however, for, with the feeling of amusement, there is mingled the fear that the angry master may take it into his head to inspect their domains. The boy accidentally exposed looks sullen, and begins to throw his books into some sort of arrangement, just enough to shield himself from the charge of absolutely disobeying the injunction that he has received, and there the matter ends.

Another teacher takes no apparent notice of the confusion which he thus accidentally witnesses. "I must take up," thinks he to himself, "the subject of order before the whole school. I have not yet spoken of it." He thanks the boy for the book he borrowed, and goes away. He makes a memorandum of the subject, and the boy does not know that the condition of his desk was noticed; perhaps he does not even know that there was any thing amiss.

A day or two after, at a time regularly appropriated to such subjects, he addresses the boys as follows:

"In our efforts to improve the school as much as possible, there is one subject which we must not forget. I mean the order of the desks."

The boys all begin to open their desk lids.

"You may stop a moment," says the teacher. "I shall give you all an opportunity to examine your desks presently.

"I do not know what the condition of your desks is. I have not examined them, and have not, in fact, seen the inside of more than one or two. As I have not brought up this subject before, I presume that there are a great many which can be arranged better than they are. Will you all now look into your desks, and see whether you consider them in good order? Stop a moment, however. Let me tell you what good order is. All those things which are alike should be arranged together. Books should be in one place, papers in another, and thus every thing should be classified. Again, every thing should be so placed that it can be taken out without disturbing other things. There is another principle, also, which I will mention: the various articles should have constant places, that is, they should not be changed from day to day. By this means you soon remember where every thing belongs, and you can put away your things much more easily every night than if you had every night to arrange them in a new way. Now will you look into your desks, and tell me whether they are, on these three principles, well arranged?"

The boys of most schools, where this subject had not been regularly attended to, would nearly all answer in the negative.

"I will allow you, then, some time to-day, fifteen minutes to arrange your desks, and I hope you will try to keep them in good order hereafter. A few days hence I shall examine them. If any of you wish for assistance or advice from me in putting them in order, I shall be happy to render it."

By such a plan, which will occupy but little more time than the irritating and useless scolding which I supposed in the other case, how much more will be accomplished. Such an address would of itself, probably, be the means of putting in order, and keeping in order, at least one half of the desks in the room, and following up the plan in the same manner and in the same spirit with which it was begun would secure the rest.

I repeat it, therefore, make it a principle in all cases to aim as much as possible at the correction of those faults which are likely to be general by general measures. You avoid by this means a vast amount of irritation and impatience, both on your own part and on the part of your scholars, and you produce twenty times the useful effect.

3. The next principle which occurs to me as deserving the teacher's attention in the outset of his course is this:

Interest your scholars in doing something themselves to elevate the moral character of the school, so as to secure a decided majority who will, of their own accord, co-operate with you.

Let your pupils understand, not by any formal speech which you make to that effect, but by the manner in which, from time to time, you incidentally allude to the subject, that you consider the school, when you commence it, as at par, so to speak—that is, on a level with other schools, and that your various plans for improving and amending it are not to be considered in the light of finding fault, and punishing transgressions, and controlling evil propensities, so as just to keep things in a tolerable state, but as efforts to improve and carry forward the institution to a still higher state of excellence. Such is the tone and manner of some teachers that they never appear to be more than merely satisfied. When the scholars do right, nothing is said about it. The teacher seems to consider that a matter of course. It does not appear to interest or please him at all. Nothing arouses him but when they do wrong, and that only excites him to anger and frowns. Now in such a case there can, of course, be no stimulus to effort on the part of the pupils but the cold and heartless stimulus of fear.

Now it is wrong for the teacher to expect that things will go right in his school as a matter of course. All that he can expect as a matter of course is, that things should go on as well as they do ordinarily in schools—the ordinary amount of idleness, the ordinary amount of misconduct. This is the most that he can expect to come as a matter of course. He should feel this, and then all he can gain which will be better than this will be a source of positive pleasure; a pleasure which his pupils have procured for him, and which, consequently, they should share. They should understand that the teacher is engaged in various plans for improving the school, in which they should be invited to engage, not from the selfish desire of thereby saving him trouble, but because it will really be happy employment for them to engage in such an enterprise, and because, by such efforts, their own moral powers will be exerted and strengthened in the best possible way.

In another chapter I have explained to what extent, and in what manner, the assistance of the pupils may be usefully and successfully employed in carrying forward the general arrangements of the school. The same principles will apply here, though perhaps a little more careful and delicate management is necessary in interesting them in subjects which relate to moral discipline.

One important method of accomplishing this end is to present these plans before the minds of the scholars as experiments—moral experiments, whose commencement, progress, and results they may take a great interest in witnessing. Let us take, for example, the case alluded to under the last head—the plan of effecting a reform in regard to keeping desks in order. Suppose the teacher were to say, when the time had arrived at which he had promised to give them an opportunity to put the desks in order,

"I think it would be a good plan to keep some account of our efforts for improving the school in this respect. We might make a record of what we do to-day, noting the day of the month and the number of desks which may be found to be disorderly. Then, at the end of any time you may propose, we will have the desks examined again, and see how many are disorderly then. We can thus see how much improvement has been made in that time. Should you like to adopt the plan?"

If the boys should appear not much interested in the proposal, the teacher might, at his own discretion, waive it. In all probability, however, they would like it, and would indicate their interest by their countenances, or perhaps by a response. If so, the teacher might proceed.

"You may all examine your desks, then, and decide whether they are in order or not. I do not know, however, but that we ought to appoint a committee to examine them; for perhaps all the boys would not be honest, and report their desks as they really are."

"Yes, sir;" "yes, sir," say the boys.

"Do you mean that you will be honest, or that you would like to have a committee appointed?"

There was a confused murmur. Some answer one, and some the other.

"I think," proceeds the teacher, "the boys will be honest, and report their desks just as they are. At any rate, the number of dishonest boys in this school can not be so large as materially to affect the result. I think we had better take your own statements. As soon as the desks are all examined, those who have found theirs in a condition which does not satisfy them are requested to rise and be counted."

The teacher then looks around the room, and selecting some intelligent boy who has influence among his companions, and whose influence he is particularly desirous of enlisting on the side of good order, says, "Shall I nominate some one to keep an account of the number?"

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"Well, I nominate William Jones. How many are in favor of requesting William Jones to perform this duty?"

"It is a vote. William, I will thank you to write upon a piece of paper that on the 8th of December the subject of order in the desks was brought up, and that the boys resolved on making an effort to improve the school in this respect. Then say that the boys reported all their desks which they thought were disorderly, and that the number was thirty-five; and that after a week or two, the desks are to be examined again, and the disorderly ones counted, that we may see how much we have improved. After you have written it you may bring it to me, and I will tell you whether it is right."

"How many desks do you think will be found to be disorderly when we come to make the examination?"

The boys hesitate.

The teacher names successively several numbers, and asks whether they think the real number will be greater or less. He notices their votes upon them, and at last fixes upon one which seems to be about the general sense of the school. Then the teacher himself mentions the number which he supposes will be found to be disorderly. His estimate will ordinarily be larger than that of the scholars, because he knows better how easily resolutions are broken. This number, too, is recorded, and then the whole subject is dismissed.

Now, of course, no reader of these remarks will understand me to be recommending, by this imaginary dialogue, a particular course to be taken in regard to this subject, far less the particular language to be used. All I mean is to show by a familiar illustration how the teacher is to endeavor to enlist the interest and to excite the curiosity of his pupils in his plans for the improvement of his school, by presenting them as moral experiments, which they are to assist him in trying—experiments whose progress they are to watch, and whose results they are to predict. If the precise steps which I have described should actually be taken, although it would occupy but a few minutes, and would cause no thought and no perplexing care, yet it would undoubtedly be the means of awakening a very general interest in the subject of order throughout the school. All would be interested in the work of arrangement.

All would watch, too, with interest the progress and the result of the experiment; and if, a few days afterward, the teacher should accidentally, in recess, see a disorderly desk, a good-humored remark made with a smile to the by-standers, "I suspect my prediction will turn out the correct one," would have far more effect than the most severe reproaches, or the tingling of a rap over the knuckles with a ratan.

I know from experience that scholars of every kind can be led by such measures as these, or rather by such a spirit as this, to take an active interest, and to exert a most powerful influence in regard to the whole condition of the institution. I have seen the experiment successful in boys' schools and in girls' schools, among very little children, and among the seniors and juniors at college.

In one of the colleges of New England a new and beautiful edifice was erected. The lecture-rooms were fitted up in handsome style, and the officers, when the time for the occupation of the building approached, were anticipating with regret what seemed to be the unavoidable defacing, and cutting, and marking of the seats and walls. It was, however, thought that if the subject was properly presented to the students, they would take an interest in preserving the property from injury. They were accordingly addressed somewhat as follows:

"It seems, young gentlemen, to be generally the custom in colleges for the students to ornament the walls and benches of their recitation-rooms with various inscriptions and caricatures, so that after the premises have been for a short time in the possession of a class, every thing within reach, which will take an impression from a penknife or a trace from a pencil, is covered with names, and dates, and heads, and inscriptions of every kind. The faculty do not know what you wish in this respect in regard to the new accommodations which the trustees have now provided for you, and which you are soon to enter. They have had them fitted up for you handsomely, and if you wish to have them kept in good order, we will assist you. If the students think proper to express by a vote, or in any other way, their wish to keep them in good order, we will engage to have such incidental injuries as may from time to time occur immediately repaired. Such injuries will, of course, be done; for, whatever may be the wish and general opinion of the whole, it is not to be expected that every individual in so large a community will be careful. If, however, as a body, you wish to have the building preserved in its present state, and will, as a body, take the necessary precautions, we will do our part."



The students responded to this appeal most heartily. They passed a vote expressing a desire to preserve the premises in order, and for many years, and, for aught I know, to the present hour, the whole is kept as a room occupied by gentlemen should be kept. At some other colleges, and those, too, sustaining the very highest rank among the institutions of the country, the doors of the public buildings are sometimes studded with nails as thick as they can possibly be driven, and then covered with a thick coat of sand dried into the paint, as a protection from the knives of the students!!

The particular methods by which the teacher is to interest his pupils in his various plans for their improvement can not be fully described here. In fact, it does not depend so much on the methods he adopts as upon the view which he himself takes of these plans, and the tone and manner in which he speaks of them to his pupils.

A teacher, for example, perhaps on the first day of his labors in a new school, calls a class to read. They pretend to form a line, but it crooks in every direction. One boy is leaning back against a desk; another comes forward as far as possible, to get near the fire; the rest lounge in every position and in every attitude. John is holding up his book high before his face to conceal an apple from which he is endeavoring to secure an enormous bite. James is, by the same sagacious device, concealing a whisper which he is addressing to his next neighbor, and Moses is seeking amusement by crowding and elbowing the little boy who is unluckily standing next him.

"What a spectacle!" says the master to himself, as he looks at this sad display. "What shall I do?" The first impulse is to break forth upon them at once with all the artillery of reproof, and threatening, and punishment. I have seen, in such a case, a scolding and frowning master walk up and down before such a class with a stern and angry air, commanding this one to stand back, and that one to come forward, ordering one boy to put down his book, and scolding at a second for having lost his place, and knocking the knees of another with his ruler because he was out of the line. The boys scowl at their teacher, and, with ill-natured reluctance, they obey just enough to escape punishment.

Another teacher looks calmly at the scene, and says to himself, "What shall I do to remove effectually these evils? If I can but interest the boys in reform, it will be far more easy to effect it than if I attempt to accomplish it by the mere exercise of my authority."

In the mean time things go on during the reading in their own way. The teacher simply observes. He is in no haste to commence his operations. He looks for the faults; watches, without seeming to watch, the movements which he is attempting to control. He studies the materials with which he is to work, and lets their true character develop itself. He tries to find something to approve in the exercise as it proceeds, and endeavors to interest the class by narrating some fact connected with the reading, or making some explanation which interests the boys. At the end of the exercise he addresses them, perhaps, as follows:

"I have observed, boys, in some military companies, that the officers are very strict, requiring implicit and precise obedience. The men are required to form a precise line." (Here there is a sort of involuntary movement all along the line, by which it is very sensibly straightened.) "They make all the men stand erect" (at this word heads go up, and straggling feet draw in all along the class), "in the true military posture. They allow nothing to be done in the ranks but to attend to the exercise" (John hastily crowds his apple into his pocket), "and thus they regulate every thing in exact and steady discipline, so that all things go on in a most systematic and scientific manner. This discipline is so admirable in some countries, especially in Europe, where much greater attention is paid to military tactics than in our country, that I have heard it said by travelers that some of the soldiers who mount guard at public places look as much like statues as they do like living men.

"Other commanders act differently. They let the men do pretty much as they please. So you will see such a company lounging into a line when the drum beats, as if they took little interest in what was going on. While the captain is giving his commands, one is eating his luncheon, another is talking with his next neighbor. Part are out of the line; part lounge on one foot; they hold their guns in every position; and, on the whole, present a very disorderly and unsoldier-like appearance.

"I have observed, too, that boys very generally prefer to see the strict companies, but perhaps they would prefer to belong to the lax ones."

"No, sir;" "No, sir," say the boys.

"Suppose you all had your choice either to belong to a company like the first one I described, where the captain was strict in all his requirements, or to one like the latter, where you could do pretty much as you pleased, which should you prefer?"

Unless I am entirely mistaken in my idea of the inclinations of boys, it would be very difficult to get a single honest expression of preference for the latter. They would say with one voice,

"The first."

"I suppose it would be so. You would be put to some inconvenience by the strict commands of the captain, but then you would be more than paid by the beauty of regularity and order which you would all witness. There is nothing so pleasant as regularity, and nobody likes regularity more than boys do. To show this, I should like to have you now form a line as exact as you can."

After some unnecessary shoving and pushing, increased by the disorderly conduct of a few bad boys, a line is formed. Most of the class are pleased with the experiment, and the teacher takes no notice of the few exceptions. The time to attend to them will come by-and-by.

"Hands down." The boys obey.

"Shoulders back."

"There; there is a very perfect line."

"Do you stand easily in that position?"

"Yes, sir."

"I believe your position is the military one now, pretty nearly; and military men study the postures of the human body for the sake of finding the one most easy; for they wish to preserve as much as possible of the soldiers' strength for the time of battle. I should like to try the experiment of your standing thus at the next lesson. It is a very great improvement upon your common mode. Are you willing to do it?"

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"You will get tired, I have no doubt; for the military position, though most convenient and easy in the end, is not to be learned and fixed in practice without effort. In fact, I do not expect you will succeed the first day very well. You will probably become restless and uneasy before the end of the lesson, especially the smaller boys. I must excuse it, I suppose, if you do, as it will be the first time."

By such methods as these the teacher will certainly secure a majority in favor of all his plans. But perhaps some experienced teacher, who knows from his own repeated difficulties with bad boys what sort of spirits the teacher of district schools has sometimes to deal with, may ask, as he reads this,

"Do you expect that such a method as this will succeed in keeping your school in order? Why there are boys in almost every school whom you would no more coax into obedience and order in this way than you would persuade the northeast wind to change its course by reasoning."

I know there are. And my readers are requested to bear in mind that my object is not to show how the whole government of the school may be secured, but how one important advantage may be gained, which will assist in accomplishing the object. All I should expect or hope for, by such measures as these, is to interest and gain over to our side the majority. What is to be done with those who can not be reached by such kinds of influence I shall endeavor presently to show. The object now is simply to gain the majority—to awaken a general interest, which you can make effectual in promoting your plans, and thus to narrow the field of discipline by getting those right who can be got right by such measures.

Thus securing a majority to be on your side in the general administration of the school is absolutely indispensable to success. A teacher may, indeed, by the force of mere authority, so control his pupils as to preserve order in the schoolroom, and secure a tolerable progress in study, but the progress will be slow, and the cultivation of moral principle must be, in such a case, entirely neglected. The principles of duty can not be inculcated by fear; and though pain and terror must in many instances be called in to coerce an individual offender, whom milder measures will not reach, yet these agents, and others like them, can never be successfully employed as the ordinary motives to action. They can not produce any thing but mere external and heartless obedience in the presence of the teacher, with an inclination to throw off all restraint when the pressure of stern authority is removed.

We should all remember that our pupils are but for a very short time under our direct control. Even when they are in school the most untiring vigilance will not enable us to watch, except for a very small portion of the time, any one individual. Many hours of the day, too, they are entirely removed from our inspection, and a few months will take them away from us altogether. Subjecting them, then, to mere external restraint is a very inadequate remedy for the moral evil to which they are exposed. What we aim at is to bring forward and strengthen an internal principle which will act when both parent and teacher are away, and control where external circumstances are all unfavorable.

I have thus far, under this head, been endeavoring to show the importance of securing, by gentle measures, a majority of the scholars to cooperate with the teacher in his plans. The particular methods of doing this demand a little attention.

(1.) The teacher should study human nature as it exhibits itself in the school-room by taking an interest in the sports and enjoyments of the pupils, and connecting, as much as possible, what is interesting and agreeable with the pursuits of the school, so as to lead the scholars to like the place. An attachment to the institution, and to the duties of it, will give the teacher a very strong hold upon the community of mind which exists there.

(2.) Every thing which is unpleasant in the discipline of the school should be attended to, as far as possible, privately. Sometimes it is necessary to bring a case forward in public for reproof or punishment, but this is seldom required. In some schools it is the custom to postpone cases of discipline till the close of the day, and then, just before the boys are dismissed at night, all the difficulties are settled. Thus, day after day, the impression which is last made upon their minds is received from a season of suffering, and terror, and tears.

Now such a practice may be attended with many advantages, but it seems to be, on the whole, unwise. Awing the pupils, by showing them the painful consequences of doing wrong, should be very seldom resorted to. It is far better to allure them by showing them the pleasures of doing right. Doing right is pleasant to every body, and no persons are so easily convinced of this, or, rather, so easily led to see it, as children. Now the true policy is to let them experience the pleasure of doing their duty, and they will easily be allured to it.

In many cases, where a fault has been publicly committed, it seems, at first view, to be necessary that it should be publicly punished; but the end will, in most cases, be answered if it is noticed publicly, so that the pupils may know that it received attention, and then the ultimate disposal of the case may be made a private affair between the teacher and the individual concerned. If, however, every case of disobedience, or idleness, or disorder, is brought out publicly before the school, so that all witness the teacher's displeasure and feel the effects of it (for to witness it is to feel its most unpleasant effects), the school becomes, in a short time, hardened to such scenes. Unpleasant associations become connected with the management of the school, and the scholars are prepared to do wrong with less reluctance, since the consequence is only a repetition of what they are obliged to see every day.

Besides, if a boy does something wrong, and you severely reprove him in the presence of his class, you punish the class almost as much as you do him. In fact, in many cases you punish them more; for I believe it is almost invariably more unpleasant for a good boy to stand by and listen to rebukes, than for a bad boy to take them. Keep these things, therefore, as much as possible out of sight. Never bring forward cases of discipline except on mature deliberation, and for a distinct and well-defined purpose.

(3.) Never bring forward a case of discipline of this kind unless you are sure that public opinion will go in your favor. If a case comes up in which the sympathy of the scholars is excited for the criminal in such a way as to be against yourself, the punishment will always do more harm than good. Now this, unless there is great caution, will often happen. In fact, it is probable that a very large proportion of the punishments which are ordinarily inflicted in schools only prepare the way for more offenses.

It is, however, possible to bring forward individual cases in such a way as to produce a very strong moral effect of the right kind. This is to be done by seizing upon those peculiar emergencies which will arise in the course of the administration of a school, and which each teacher must watch for and discover himself. They can not be pointed out. I may, however, give a clearer idea of what is meant by such emergencies by an example. It is a case which actually occurred as here narrated.

In a school where nearly all the pupils were faithful and docile, there were one or two boys who were determined to find amusement in those mischievous tricks so common in schools and colleges. There was one boy, in particular, who was the life and soul of all these plans. Devoid of principle, idle as a scholar, morose and sullen in his manners, he was, in every respect, a true specimen of the whole class of mischief-makers, wherever they are to be found. His mischief consisted, as usual, in such exploits as stopping up the keyhole of the door, upsetting the teacher's inkstand, or fixing something to his desk to make a noise and interrupt the school.

It so happened that there was a standing feud between the boys of his neighborhood and those of another situated a mile or two from it. By his malicious activity he had stimulated this quarrel to a high pitch, and was very obnoxious to the boys of the other party. One day, when taking a walk, the teacher observed a number of boys with excited looks, and armed with sticks and stones, standing around a shoemaker's shop, to which his poor pupil had gone for refuge from them. They had got him completely within their power, and were going to wait until he should be wearied with his confinement and come out, when they were going to inflict upon him the punishment they thought he deserved.

The teacher interfered, and by the united influence of authority, management, and persuasion, succeeded in effecting a rescue. The boy would probably have preferred to owe his safety to any one else than to the teacher whom he had so often tried to tease, but he was glad to escape in any way. The teacher said nothing about the subject, and the boy soon supposed it was entirely forgotten.

But it was not forgotten. The teacher knew perfectly well that the boy would before long be at his old tricks again, and was reserving this story as the means of turning the whole current of public opinion against such tricks, should they again occur.

One day he came to school in the afternoon, and found the room filled with smoke; the doors and windows were all closed, though, as soon as he came in, some of the boys opened them. He knew by this circumstance that it was roguery, not accident, which caused the smoke. He appeared not to notice it, however, said he was sorry it smoked, and asked the mischievous boy—for he was sure to be always near in such a case—to assist him in putting up the wood of the fire more compactly. The boy supposed that the smoke was understood to be accidental, and perhaps secretly laughed at the dullness of his master.

In the course of the afternoon, the teacher ascertained by private inquiries that his suspicions were correct as to the author of the mischief. At the close of school, when the studies were ended, and the books laid away, he said to the scholars that he wanted to tell them a story.

He then, with a pleasant tone and manner, gave a very minute, and, to the boys, a very interesting narrative of his adventure two or three weeks before, when he rescued this boy from his danger. He called him, however, simply a boy, without mentioning his name, or even hinting that he was a member of the school. No narrative could excite a stronger interest among an audience of school-boys than such a one as this, and no act of kindness from a teacher would make as vivid an impression as interfering to rescue a trembling captive from such a situation as the one this boy had been in.

The scholars listened with profound interest and attention, and though the teacher said little about his share in the affair, and spoke of what he did as if it were a matter of course that he should thus befriend a boy in distress, an impression very favorable to himself must have been made. After he had finished his narrative, he said,

"Now should you like to know who this boy was?"

"Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," said they, eagerly.

"It was a boy that you all know."

The boys looked around upon one another. Who could it be?

"He is a member of this school."

There was an expression of fixed, and eager, and increasing interest on every face in the room.

"He is here now," said the teacher, winding up the interest and curiosity of the scholars, by these words, to the highest pitch.

"But I can not tell you his name; for what return do you think he made to me? To be sure it was no very great favor that I did him; I should have been unworthy the name of teacher if I had not done it for him, or for any boy in my school. But, at any rate, it showed my good wishes for him; it showed that I was his friend; and what return do you think he made me for it? Why, to-day he spent his time between schools in filling the room with smoke, that he might torment his companions here, and give me trouble, and anxiety, and suffering when I should come. If I should tell you his name, the whole school would turn against him for his ingratitude."

The business ended here, and it put a stop, a final stop, to all malicious tricks in the school. Now it is not very often that so fine an opportunity occurs to kill, by a single blow, the disposition to do willful, wanton injury, as this circumstance afforded; but the principle illustrated by it, bringing forward individual cases of transgression in a public manner, only for the sake of the general effect, and so arranging what is said and done as to produce the desired effect upon the public mind in the highest degree, may very frequently be acted upon. Cases are continually occurring, and if the teacher will keep it constantly in mind, that when a particular case comes before the whole school, the object is an influence upon the whole, and not the punishment or reform of the guilty individual, he will insensibly so shape his measures as to produce the desired result.

(4.) There should be a great difference made between the measures which you take to prevent wrong, and the feelings of displeasure which you express against the wrong when it is done. The former should be strict, authoritative, unbending; the latter should be mild and gentle. Your measures, if uniform and systematic, will never give offense, however powerfully you may restrain and control those subject to them. It is the morose look, the harsh expression, the tone of irritation and fretfulness, which is so unpopular in school. The sins of childhood are by nine tenths of mankind enormously overrated, and perhaps none overrate them more extravagantly than teachers. We confound the trouble they give us with their real moral turpitude, and measure the one by the other. Now if a fault prevails in school, one teacher will scold and fret himself about it day after day, until his scholars are tired both of school and of him; and yet he will do nothing effectual to remove it. Another will take efficient and decided measures, and yet say very little on the subject, and the whole evil will be removed without suspending for a moment the good-humor and pleasant feeling which should prevail in school.

The expression of your displeasure on account of any thing that is wrong will seldom or never do any good. The scholars consider it scolding; it is scolding; and though it may, in many cases, contain many sound arguments and eloquent expostulations, it operates simply as a punishment. It is unpleasant to hear it. General instruction must indeed be given, but not general reproof.

(5.) Feel that in the management of the school you are under obligation as well as the scholars, and let this feeling appear in all that you do. Your scholars wish you to dismiss school earlier than usual on some particular occasion, or to allow them an extra holiday. Show by the manner in which you consider and speak of the question that your main inquiry is what is your duty. Speak often of your responsibility to your employers—not formally, but incidentally and naturally, as you will speak if you feel this responsibility.

It will assist very much, too, in securing cheerful, good-humored obedience to the regulations of the school, if you extend their authority over yourself. Not that the teacher is to have no liberty from which the scholars are debarred; this would be impossible. But the teacher should submit, himself, to every thing which he requires of his scholars, unless it is in cases where a different course is necessary.

Suppose, for instance, a study-card, like the one described in a preceding chapter, is made so as to mark the time of recess and of study. The teacher, near the close of recess, is sitting with a group of his pupils around him, telling them some story. They are all interested, and they see he is interested. He looks at his watch, and shows by his manner that he is desirous of finishing what he is saying, but that he knows that the striking of the bell will cut short his story. Perhaps he says not a word about it, but his pupils see that he is submitting to the control which is placed over them; and when the card goes up, and he stops instantly in the middle of his sentence and rises with the rest, each one to go to his own place, to engage at once in their several duties, he teaches them a most important lesson, and in the most effectual way. Such a lesson of fidelity and obedience, and such an example of it, will have more influence than half an hour's scolding about whispering without leave, or a dozen public punishments. At least so I found it, for I have tried both.