Charles. Have we? Well, never mind, I guess we shall find them.

Emily. I'm afraid we sha'n't. Do let's run.

Charles. Well, so do. Oh, Emily! here's a brook, and I am sure we didn't pass any brook going.

Emily. Oh dear! we must be lost. Hark! Charles, didn't you hear that dreadful noise just now? Wasn't it a bear?

Charles. Poh! I should love to see a bear here. I guess, if he should come near me, I would give him one good slap that would make him feel pretty bad. I could kill him at the first hit.

Emily. I should like to see you taking hold of a bear. Why, didn't you know bears were stronger than men? But only see how dark it grows; we sha'n't see ma to-night, I'm afraid.

Charles. So am I: do let's run some more.

Emily. Oh, Charles, do you believe we shall ever find the way out of this dreadful long wood?

Charles. Let's scream, and see if somebody won't come.

Emily. Well (screaming), ma! ma!

Charles (screaming also). Pa! pa!

Emily. Oh dear! there's the sun setting. It will be dreadfully dark by-and-by, won't it?

We have given enough for a specimen. The composition, though faulty in many respects, illustrates the point we had in view.

7. Insincere Confession.—An assistant in a school informed the principal that she had some difficulty in preserving order in a certain class composed of small children. The principal accordingly went into the class, and something like the following dialogue ensued:

"Your teacher informs me," said the principal, "that there is not perfect order in the class. Now if you are satisfied that there has not been order, and wish to help me discover and correct the fault, we can do it very easily. If, on the other hand, you do not wish to co-operate with me, it will be a little more difficult for me to correct it, and I must take a different course. Now I wish to know, at the outset, whether you do or do not wish to help me?"

A faint "Yes, sir," was murmured through the class.

"I do not wish you to assist me unless you really and honestly desire it yourselves; and if you undertake to do it, you must do it honestly. The first thing which will be necessary will be an open and thorough exposure of all which has been wrong, and this, you know, will be unpleasant. But I will put the question to vote by asking how many are willing that I should know, entirely and fully, all that they have done in this class that has been wrong?"

Very nearly all the hands were raised at once, promptly, and the others were gradually brought up, though with more or less of hesitation.

"Are you willing not only to tell me yourselves what you have done, but also, in case any one has forgotten something which she has done, that others should tell me of it?"

The hands were all raised.

After obtaining thus from the class a distinct and universal expression of willingness that all the facts should be made known, the principal called upon all those who had any thing to state to raise their hands, and those who raised them had opportunity to say what they wished. A great number of very trifling incidents were mentioned, such as could not have produced any difficulty in the class, and, consequently, could not have been the real instances of disorder alluded to. Or at least it was evident, if they were, that in the statement they must have been so palliated and softened that a really honest confession had not been made. This result might, in such a case, have been expected. Such is human nature, that in nine cases out of ten, unless such a result had been particularly guarded against, it would have inevitably followed.

Not only will such a result follow in individual cases like this, but, unless the teacher watches and guards against it, it will grow into a habit. I mean, boys will get a sort of an idea that it is a fine thing to confess their faults, and by a show of humility and frankness will deceive their teacher, and perhaps themselves, by a sort of acknowledgment, which in fact exposes nothing of the guilt which the transgressor professes to expose. A great many cases occur where teachers are pleased with the confession of faults, and scholars perceive it, and the latter get into the habit of coming to the teacher when they have done something which they think may get them into difficulty, and make a sort of half confession, which, by bringing forward every palliating circumstance, and suppressing every thing of different character, keeps entirely out of view all the real guilt of the transgression. The criminal is praised by the teacher for the frankness and honesty of the confession, and his fault is freely forgiven. He goes away, therefore, well satisfied with himself, when, in fact, he has been only submitting to a little mortification, voluntarily, to avoid the danger of a greater; much in the same spirit with that which leads a man to receive the small-pox by inoculation, to avoid the danger of taking it in the natural way.

The teacher who accustoms his pupils to confess their faults voluntarily ought to guard carefully against this danger. When such a case as the one just described occurs, it will afford a favorable opportunity of showing distinctly to pupils the difference between an honest and a hypocritical confession. In this instance the teacher proceeded thus:

"Now there is one more question which I wish you all to answer by your votes honestly. It is this. Do you think that the real disorder which has been in this class—that is, the real cases which you referred to when you stated to me that you thought that the class was not in good order—have been now really exposed, so that I honestly and fully understand the case? How many suppose so?"

Not a single hand was raised.

"How many of you think, and are willing to avow your opinion, that I have not been fully informed of the case?"

A large proportion held up their hands.

"Now it seems the class pretended to be willing that I should know all the affair. You pretended to be willing to tell me the whole, but when I call upon you for the information, instead of telling me honestly, you attempt to amuse me by little trifles, which in reality made no disturbance, and you omit the things which you know were the real objects of my inquiries. Am I right in my supposition?"

They were silent. After a moment's pause, one perhaps raised her hand, and began now to confess something which she had before concealed.

The teacher, however, interrupted her by saying,

"I do not wish to have the confession made now. I gave you all time to do that, and now I should rather not hear any more about the disorder. I gave an opportunity to have it acknowledged, but it was not honestly improved, and now I should rather not hear. I shall probably never know.

"I wished to see whether this class would be honest—really honest, or whether they would have the insincerity to pretend to be confessing when they were not doing so honestly, so as to get the credit of being frank and sincere, when in reality they are not so. Now am I not compelled to conclude that this latter is the case?"

Such an example will make a deep and lasting impression. It will show that the teacher is upon his guard; and there are very few so hardened in deception that they would not wish that they had been really sincere rather than rest under such an imputation.

8. Court.—A pupil, quite young (says a teacher), came to me one day with a complaint that one of her companions had got her seat. There had been some changes in the seats by my permission, and probably, from some inconsistency in the promises which I had made, there were two claimants for the same desk. The complainant came to me, and appealed to my recollection of the circumstance.

"I do not recollect any thing about it," said I.

"Why, Mr. B.!" replied she, with astonishment.

"No," said I; "you forget that I have, every day, arrangements, almost without number, of such a kind to make, and as soon as I have made one I immediately forget all about it."

"Why, don't you remember that you got me a new baize?"

"No; I ordered a dozen new baizes at that time, but I do not remember who they were for."

There was a pause; the disappointed complainant seemed not to know what to do.

"I will tell you what to do. Bring the case into court, and I will try it regularly."

"Why, Mr. B., I do not like to do any thing like that about it; besides, I do not know how to write an indictment."

"Oh," I answered, "the scholars will like to have a good trial, and this will make a new sort of case. All our cases thus far have been for offenses—that is what they call criminal cases—and this will be only an examination of the conflicting claims of two individuals to the same property, and it will excite a good deal of interest. I think you had better bring it into court."

She went slowly and thoughtfully to her seat, and presently returned with an indictment.

"Mr. B., is this right?"

It was as follows:

I accuse Miss A.B. of coming to take away my seat—the one Mr. B. gave me.

Witnesses, { C.D. { E.T.

"Why—yes—that will do; and yet it is not exactly right. You see this is what they call a civil case."

"I don't think it is very civil."

"No, I don't mean it was civil to take your seat, but this is not a case where a person is prosecuted for having done any thing wrong."

The plaintiff looked a little perplexed, as if she could not understand how it could be otherwise than wrong for a girl to usurp her seat.

"I mean, you do not bring it into court as a case of wrong. You do not want her to be punished, do you?"

"No, I only want her to give me up my seat; I don't want her to be punished."

"Well, then, you see that, although she may have done wrong to take your seat, it is not in that point of view that you bring it into court. It is a question about the right of property, and the lawyers call such cases civil cases, to distinguish them from cases where persons are tried for the purpose of being punished for doing wrong. These last are called criminal cases."

The aggrieved party still looked perplexed. "Well, Mr. B.," she continued, "what shall I do? How shall I write it? I can not say any thing about civil in it, can I?"

A form was given her which would be proper for the purpose, and the case was brought forward, and the evidence on both sides examined. The irritation of the quarrel was soon dissipated in the amusement of a semi-serious trial, and both parties good-humoredly acquiesced in the decision.

9. TEACHERS' PERSONAL CHARACTER.—Much has been said within a few years, by writers on the subject of education in this country, on the desirableness of raising the business of teaching to the rank of a learned profession. There is but one way of doing this, and that is raising the personal characters and attainments of the teachers themselves. Whether an employment is elevated or otherwise in public estimation, depends altogether on the associations, connected with it in the public mind, and these depend altogether on the characters of the individuals who are engaged in it. Franklin, by the simple fact that he was a printer himself, has done more toward giving dignity and respectability to the employment of printing, than a hundred orations on the intrinsic excellence of the art. In fact, all mechanical employments have, within a few years, risen in rank in this country, not through the influence of efforts to impress the community directly with a sense of their importance, but simply because mechanics themselves have risen in intellectual and moral character. In the same manner, the employment of the teacher will be raised most effectually in the estimation of the public, not by the individual who writes the most eloquent oration on the intrinsic dignity of the art, but by the one who goes forward most successfully in the exercise of it, and who, by his general attainments and public character, stands out most fully to the view of the public as a well-informed, liberal-minded, and useful man.

If this is so—and it can not well be denied—it furnishes to every teacher a strong motive to exertion for the improvement of his own personal character. But there is a stronger motive still in the results which flow directly to himself from such efforts. No man ought to engage in any business which, as mere business, will engross all his time and attention. The Creator has bestowed upon every one a mind, upon the cultivation of which our rank among intelligent beings, our happiness, our moral and intellectual power, every thing valuable to us, depend; and after all the cultivation which we can bestow, in this life, upon this mysterious principle, it will still be in embryo. The progress which it is capable of making is entirely indefinite. If by ten years of cultivation we can secure a certain degree of knowledge and power, by ten more we can double, or more than double it, and every succeeding year of effort is attended with equal success. There is no point of attainment where we must stop, or beyond which effort will bring in a less valuable return.

Look at that teacher, and consider for a moment his condition. He began to teach when he was twenty years of age, and now he is forty. Between the ages of fifteen and twenty he made a vigorous effort to acquire such an education as would fit him for these duties. He succeeded, and by these efforts he raised himself from being a mere laborer, receiving for his daily toil a mere daily subsistence, to the respectability and the comforts of an intellectual pursuit. But this change once produced, he stops short in his progress. Once seated in his desk, he is satisfied, and for twenty years he has been going through the same routine, without any effort to advance or to improve. He does not reflect that the same efforts, which so essentially altered his condition and prospects at twenty, would have carried him forward to higher and higher sources of influence and enjoyment as long as he should continue them. His efforts ceased when he obtained a situation as teacher at fifty dollars a month, and, though twenty years have glided away, he is now exactly what he was then.

There is probably no employment whatever which affords so favorable an opportunity for personal improvement—for steady intellectual and moral progress, as that of teaching. There are two reasons for this:

First, there is time for it. With an ordinary degree of health and strength, the mind can be vigorously employed at least ten hours a day. As much as this is required of students in many literary institutions. In fact, ten hours to study, seven to sleep, and seven to food, exercise, and recreation, is perhaps as good an arrangement as can be made; at any rate, very few persons will suppose that such a plan allows too little under the latter head. Now six hours is as much as is expected of a teacher under ordinary circumstances, and it is as much as ought ever to be bestowed; for, though he may labor four hours out of school in some new field, his health and spirits will soon sink under the burden, if, after his weary labors during the day in school, he gives up his evenings to the same perplexities and cares. And it is not necessary. No one who knows any thing of the nature of the human mind, and who will reflect a moment on the subject, can doubt that a man can make a better school by expending six hours labor upon it with alacrity and ardor, than he can by driving himself on to ten. Every teacher, therefore, who is commencing his work, should begin with the firm determination of devoting only six hours daily to the pursuit. Make as good a school, and accomplish as much for it as you can in six hours, and let the rest go. When you come from your school-room at night, leave all your perplexities and cares behind you. No matter what unfinished business or unsettled difficulties remain, dismiss them till another sun shall rise, and the hour of duty for another day shall come. Carry no school-work home with you, and do not even talk of your school-work at home. You will then get refreshment and rest. Your mind, during the evening, will be in a different world from that in which you have moved during the day. At first this will be difficult. It will be hard for you, unless your mind is uncommonly well disciplined, to dismiss all your cares; and you will think, each evening, that some peculiar emergency demands your attention just at that time, and that as soon as you have passed the crisis you will confine yourself to what you admit are generally reasonable limits; but if you once allow school, with its perplexities and cares, to get possession of the rest of the day, it will keep possession. It will intrude itself into all your waking thoughts, and trouble you in your dreams. You will lose all command of your powers, and, besides cutting off from yourself all hope of general intellectual progress, you will, in fact, destroy your success as a teacher. Exhaustion, weariness, and anxiety will be your continual portion, and in such a state no business can be successfully prosecuted.

There need be no fear that employers will be dissatisfied if the teacher acts upon this principle. If he is faithful, and enters with all his heart into the discharge of his duties during six hours, there will be something in the ardor, and alacrity, and spirit with which his duties will be performed which parents and scholars will both be very glad to receive in exchange for the languid, and dull, and heartless toil in which the other method must sooner or later result.

* * * * *

If the teacher, then, will confine himself to such a portion of time as is, in fact, all he can advantageously employ, there will be much left which can be devoted to his own private employment—more than is usual in the other avocations of life. In most of these other avocations there is not the same necessity for limiting the hours which a man may devote to his business. A merchant, for example, may be employed nearly all the day at his counting-room, and so may a mechanic. A physician may spend all his waking hours in visiting patients, and feel little more than healthy fatigue. The reason is, that in all these employments, and, in fact, in most of the employments of life, there is so much to diversify, so many little incidents constantly occurring to animate and relieve, and so much bodily exercise, which alternates with and suspends the fatigues of the mind, that the labors may be much longer continued, and with less cessation, and yet the health not suffer. But the teacher, while engaged in his work, has his mind continually on the stretch. There is little relief, little respite, and he is almost entirely deprived of bodily exercise. He must, consequently, limit his hours of attending to his business, or his health will soon sink under labors which Providence never intended the human mind to bear.

There is another circumstance which facilitates the progress of the teacher. It is a fact that all this general progress has a direct and immediate bearing upon his pursuits. A lawyer may read in an evening an interesting book of travels, and find nothing to help him with his case, the next day, in court; but almost every fact which the teacher thus learns will come at once into use in some of his recitations at school. We do not mean to imply by this that the members of the legal profession have not need of a great variety and extent of knowledge; they doubtless have. It is simply in the directness and certainty with which the teacher's knowledge may be applied to his purpose that the business of teaching has the advantage over every other pursuit.

This fact, now, has a very important influence in encouraging and leading forward the teacher to make constant intellectual progress, for every step brings at once a direct reward.

10. THE CHESTNUT BURR.—A story for school-boys.—One fine Saturday afternoon, in the fall of the year, the master was taking a walk in the woods, and he came to a place where a number of boys were gathering chestnuts.

One of the boys was sitting upon a bank trying to open some chestnut burrs which he had knocked off from the tree. The burrs were green, and he was attempting to open them by pounding them with a stone.



He was a very impatient boy, and was scolding in a loud, angry, tone against the burrs. He did not see, he said, what in the world chestnuts were made to grow so for. They ought to grow right out in the open air, like apples, and not have such vile porcupine skins on them, just to plague the boys. So saying, he struck with all his might a fine large burr, crushed it to pieces, and then jumped up, using at the same time profane and wicked words. As soon as he turned round he saw the master standing very near him. He felt very much ashamed and afraid, and hung down his head.

"Roger," said the master (for this boy's name was Roger), "can you get me a chestnut burr?"

Roger looked up for a moment to see whether the master was in earnest, and then began to look around for a burr.

A boy who was standing near the tree, with a red cap full of burrs in his hand, held out one of them. Roger took the burr and handed it to the master, who quietly put it into his pocket, and walked away without saying a word.

As soon as he was gone, the boy with the red cap said to Roger, "I expected that the master would have given you a good scolding for talking so."

"The master never scolds," said another boy, who was sitting on a log pretty near, with a green satchel in his hand, "but you see if he does not remember it." Roger looked as if he did not know what to think about it.

"I wish," said he, "I knew what he is going to do with that burr."

That afternoon, when the lessons had been all recited, and it was about time to dismiss the school, the boys put away their books, and the master read a few verses in the Bible, and then offered a prayer, in which he asked God to forgive all the sins which any of them had committed that day, and to take care of them during the night. After this he asked the boys all to sit down. He then took his handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it on the desk, and afterward he put his hand into his pocket again, and took out the chestnut burr, and all the boys looked at it.

"Boys," said he, "do you know what this is?"

One of the boys in the back seat said, in a half whisper, "It is nothing but a chestnut burr."

"Lucy," said the master to a bright-eyed little girl near him, "what is this?"

"It is a chestnut burr, sir," said she.

"Do you know what it is for?"

"I suppose there are chestnuts in it."

"But what is this rough, prickly covering for?"

Lucy did not know.

"Does any body here know?" said the master.

One of the boys said that he supposed it was to hold the chestnuts together, and keep them up on the tree.

"But I heard a boy say," replied the master, "that they ought not to be made to grow so. The nut itself, he thought, ought to hang alone on the branches, without any prickly covering, just as apples do."

"But the nuts themselves have no stems to be fastened by," answered the same boy.

"That is true; but I suppose this boy thought that God could have made them grow with stems, and that this would have been better than to have them in burrs."

After a little pause the master said that he would explain TO them what the chestnut burr was for, and wished them all to listen attentively.

"How much of the chestnut is good to eat, William?" asked he, looking at a boy before him.

"Only the meat."

"How long does it take the meat to grow?"

"All summer, I suppose, it is growing."

"Yes; it begins early in the summer, and gradually swells and grows until it has become of full size, and is ripe, in the fall. Now suppose there was a tree out here near the school-house, and the chestnut meats should grow upon it without any shell or covering; suppose, too, that they should taste like good ripe chestnuts at first, when they were very small. Do you think they would be safe?"

William said "No; the boys would pick and eat them before they had time to grow."

"Well, what harm would there be in that? Would it not be as well to have the chestnuts early in the summer as to have them in the fall?"

William hesitated. Another boy who sat next to him said,

"There would not be so much meat in the chestnuts if they were eaten before they had time to grow."

"Right," said the master; "but would not the boys know this, and so all agree to let the little chestnuts stay, and not eat them while they were small?"

William said he thought they would not. If the chestnuts were good, he was afraid they would pick them off and eat them if they were small.

All the rest of the boys in the school thought so too.

"Here, then," said the master, "is one reason for having prickles around the chestnuts when they are small. But then it is not necessary to have all chestnuts guarded from boys in this way; a great many of the trees are in the woods, which the boys do not see; what good do the burrs do in these trees?"

The boys hesitated. Presently the boy who had the green satchel under the tree with Roger, who was sitting in one corner of the room, said,

"I should think they would keep the squirrels from eating them.

"And besides," continued he, after thinking a moment, "I should suppose, if the meat of the chestnut had no covering, the rain would wet it and make it rot, or the sun might dry and wither it."

"Yes," said the master, "these are very good reasons why the nut should be carefully guarded. First the meats are packed away in a hard brown shell, which the water can not get through; this keeps it dry, and away from dust and other things which might injure it. Then several nuts thus protected grow closely together inside this green, prickly covering, which spreads over them and guards them from the larger animals and the boys. Where the chestnut gets its full growth and is ripe, this covering, you know, splits open, and the nuts drop out, and then any body can get them and eat them."

The boys were then all satisfied that it was better that chestnuts should grow in burrs.

"But why," asked one of the boys, "do not apples grow so?"

"Can any body answer that question?" asked the master.

The boy with the green satchel said that apples had a smooth, tight skin, which kept out the wet, but he did not see how they were guarded from animals.

The master said it was by their taste. "They are hard and sour before they are full grown, and so the taste is not pleasant, and nobody wishes to eat them, except sometimes a few foolish boys, and these are punished by being made sick. When the apples are full grown, they change from sour to sweet, and become mellow—then they can be eaten. Can you tell me of any other fruits which are preserved in this way?"

One boy answered, "Strawberries and blackberries;" and another said, "Peaches and pears."

Another boy asked why the peach-stone was not outside the peach, so as to keep it from being eaten; but the master said that he would explain this another time. Then he dismissed the scholars, after asking Roger to wait until the rest had gone, as he wished to see him alone.

Several of the articles which follow were communicated for this work by different teachers, at the request of the author.

11. THE SERIES OF WRITING LESSONS.—Very many pupils soon become weary of the dull and monotonous business of writing, unless some plans are devised to give interest and variety to the exercise; and, on this account, this branch of education, in which improvement may be most rapid, is often the last and most tedious to be acquired.

A teacher, by adopting the following plan, succeeded in awakening a great degree of interest on the subject, and, consequently, of promoting rapid improvement. The plan was this: he prepared, on a large sheet of paper, a series of lessons in coarse-hand, beginning with straight lines, and proceeding to the elementary parts of the various letters, and finally to the letters themselves. This paper was posted up in a part of the room accessible to all.

The writing-books were made of three sheets of foolscap paper, folded into a convenient size, making twenty-four pages in the book. The books were to be ruled by the pupil, for it was thought important that each should learn this art. Every pupil in school, then, being furnished with one of these writing-books, was required to commence this series, and to practice each lesson until he could write it well; then, and not till then, he was permitted to pass to the next. A few brief directions were given under each lesson on the large sheet. For example, under the line of straight marks, which constituted the first lesson, was written as follows:

Straight, equidistant, parallel, smooth, well-terminated.

These directions were to call the attention of the pupil to the excellences which he must aim at, and when he supposed he had secured them, his book was to be presented to the teacher for examination. If approved, the word Passed, or, afterward, simply P., was written under the line, and he could then proceed to the next lesson. Other requisites were necessary, besides the correct formation of the letters, to enable one to pass; for example, the page must not be soiled or blotted, no paper must be wasted, and, in no case, a leaf torn out. As soon as one line was written in the manner required, the scholar was allowed to pass. In a majority of cases, however, not less than a page would be practiced, and in many instances a sheet would be covered, before one line could be produced which would be approved.

One peculiar excellency of this method was, that although the whole school were working under a regular and systematic plan, individuals could go on independently; that is, the progress of no scholar was retarded by that of his companion; the one more advanced might easily pass the earlier lessons in a few days, while the others would require weeks of practice to acquire the same degree of skill.

During the writing-hour the scholars would practice each at the lesson where he left off before, and at a particular time each day the books were brought from the regular place of deposit and laid before the teacher for examination. Without some arrangement for an examination of all the books together, the teacher would be liable to interruption at any time from individual questions and requests, which would consume much time, and benefit only a few.

When a page of writing could not pass, a brief remark, calling the attention of the pupil to the faults which prevented it, was sometimes made in pencil at the bottom of the page. In other cases, the fault was of such a character as to require full and minute oral directions to the pupil. At last, to facilitate the criticism of the writing, a set of arbitrary marks, indicative of the various faults, was devised and applied, as occasion might require, to the writing-books, by means of red ink.

These marks, which were very simple in their character, were easily remembered, for there was generally some connection between the sign and the thing signified. For example, the mark denoting that letters were too short was simply lengthening them in red ink; a faulty curve was denoted by making a new curve over the old one, &c. The following are the principal criticisms and directions for which marks were contrived:

Strokes rough. Too tall or too short. Curve wrong. Stems not straight. Bad termination Careless work. Too slanting, and the reverse. Paper wasted. Too broad, and the reverse. Almost well enough to pass. Not parallel. Bring your book to the teacher. Form of the letter bad. Former fault not corrected. Large stroke made too fine, and the reverse.

A catalogue of these marks, with an explanation, was made out and placed where it was accessible to all, and by means of them the books could be very easily and rapidly, but thoroughly criticised.

After the plan had gone on for some time, and its operation was fully understood, the teacher gave up the business of examining the books into the hands of a committee, appointed by him from among the older and more advanced pupils. That the committee might be unbiased in their judgment, they were required to examine and decide upon the books without knowing the names of the writers. Each scholar was, indeed, required to place her name on the right hand upper corner of every page of her writing-book, for the convenience of the distributors; but this corner was turned down when the book was brought in, that it might not be seen by the committee.

This committee was invested with plenary powers, and there was no appeal from their decision. In case they exercised their authority in an improper way, or failed on any account to give satisfaction, they were liable to impeachment, but while they continued in office they were to be strictly obeyed.

This plan went on successfully for three months, and with very little diminution of interest. The whole school went regularly through the lessons in coarse-hand, and afterward through a similar series in fine-hand, and improvement in this branch was thought to be greater than at any former period in the same length of time.

The same principle of arranging the several steps of an art or a study into a series of lessons, and requiring the pupil to pass regularly from one to the other, might easily be applied to other studies, and would afford an agreeable variety.

12. THE CORRESPONDENCE.—A master of a district school was walking through the room with a large rule in his hands, and as he came up behind two small boys, he observed that they were playing with some papers. He struck them once or twice, though not very severely, on the head with the rule which he had in his hand. Tears started from the eyes of one. They were called forth by a mingled feeling of grief, mortification, and pain. The other, who was of "sterner stuff," looked steadily into the master's face, and when his back was turned, shook his fist at him and laughed in defiance.

Another teacher, seeing a similar case, did nothing. The boys, when they saw him, hastily gathered up their playthings and put them away. An hour or two after, a little boy, who sat near the master, brought them a note addressed to them both. They opened it, and read as follows:

"To EDWARD AND JOHN,—I observed, when I passed you to-day, from your concerned looks, and your hurried manner of putting something into your desk, that you were doing something that you knew was wrong. When you attempt to do any thing whatever which conscience tells you is wrong, you only make yourself uneasy and anxious while you do it, and then you are forced to resort to concealment and deception when you see me coming. You would be a great deal happier if you would always be doing your duty, and then you would never be afraid. Your affectionate teacher,——."

As the teacher was arranging his papers in his desk at the close of school, he found a small piece of paper neatly folded up in the form of a note, and addressed to him. He read as follows:

"DEAR TEACHER,—We are very much obliged to you for writing us a note. We were making a paper box. We know it was wrong, and are determined not to do so any more. We hope you will forgive us.

"Your pupils, EDWARD, JOHN."

Which of these teachers understood human nature best?

13. WEEKLY REPORTS.—The plan described by the following article, which was furnished by a teacher for insertion here, was originally adopted, so far as I know, in a school on the Kennebec. I have adopted it with great advantage.

A teacher had one day been speaking to her scholars of certain cases of slight disorder in the school, which, she remarked, had been gradually creeping in, and which, as she thought, it devolved upon the scholars, by systematic efforts, to repress. She enumerated instances of disorder in the arrangement of the rooms, leaving the benches out of their places, throwing waste papers upon the floor, having the desk in disorder inside, spilling water upon the entry floor, irregular deportment, such as too loud talking or laughing in recess, or in the intermission at noon, or when coming to school, and making unnecessary noise in going to or returning from recitations.

"I have a plan to propose," said the teacher, "which I think may be the pleasantest way of promoting a reform in things of this kind. It is this. Let several of your number be chosen a committee to prepare statedly—perhaps as often as once a week—a written report of the state of the school. The report might be read before the school at the close of each week. The committee might consist, in the whole, of seven or eight, or even of eleven or twelve individuals, who should take the whole business into their hands. This committee might appoint individuals of their number to write in turn each week. By this arrangement, it would not be known to the school generally who are the writers of any particular report, if the individuals wish to be anonymous. Two individuals might be appointed at the beginning of the week, who should feel it their business to observe particularly the course of things from day to day with reference to the report. Individuals not members of the committee can render assistance by any suggestions they may present to this committee. These should, however, generally be made in writing.

"Subjects for such a report will be found to suggest themselves very abundantly, though you may not perhaps think so at first. The committee may be empowered not only to state the particulars in which things are going wrong, but the methods by which they may be made right. Let them present us with any suggestions they please. If we do not like them, we are not obliged to adopt them. For instance, it is generally the case, whenever a recitation is attended in the corner yonder, that an end of one of the benches is put against the door, so as to occasion a serious interruption to the exercises when a person wishes to come in or go out. It would come within the province of the committee to attend to such a case as this, that is, to bring it up in the report. The remedy in such a case is a very simple one. Suppose, however, that instead of the simple remedy, our committee should propose that the classes reciting in the said corner should be dissolved and the studies abolished? We should know the proposal was an absurd one, but then it would do no hurt; we should have only to reject it.

"Again, besides our faults, let our committee notice the respects in which we are doing particularly well, that we may be encouraged to go on doing well, or even to do better. If they think, for example, that we are deserving of credit for the neatness with which books are kept—for their freedom from blots, or scribblings, or dog's-ears, by which school-books are so commonly defaced, let them tell us so. And the same of any other excellence."

With the plan as thus presented, the scholars were very much pleased. It was proposed by one individual that such a committee should be appointed immediately, and a report prepared for the ensuing week. This was done. The committee were chosen by ballot. The following may be taken as a specimen of their reports:

WEEKLY REPORT.

"The Committee appointed to write the weekly report have noticed several things which they think wrong. In the first place, there have been a greater number of tardy scholars during the past week than usual. Much of this tardiness, we suppose, is owing to the interest felt in building the bower; but we think this business ought to be attended to only in play-hours. If only one or two come in late when we are reading in the morning, or after we have composed ourselves to study at the close of the recess, every scholar must look up from her book—we do not say they ought to do so, but only that they will do so. However, we anticipate an improvement in this respect, as we know 'a word to the wise is sufficient.'

"In the two back rows we are sorry to say that we have noticed whispering. We know that this fact will very much distress our teacher, as she expects assistance, and not trouble, from our older scholars. It is not our business to reprove any one's misconduct, but it is our duty to mention it, however disagreeable it may be. We think the younger scholars, during the past week, have much improved in this respect. Only three cases of whispering among them have occurred to our knowledge.

"We remember some remarks made a few weeks ago by our teacher on the practice of prompting each other in the classes. We wish she would repeat them, for we fear that, by some, they are forgotten. In the class in Geography, particularly in the questions on the map, we have noticed sly whispers, which, we suppose, were the hints of some kind friend designed to refresh the memory of her less attentive companion. We propose that the following question be now put to vote. Shall the practice of prompting in the classes be any longer continued?

"We would propose that we have a composition exercise this week similar to the one on Thursday last. It was very interesting, and we think all would be willing to try their thinking powers once more. We would propose, also, that the readers of the compositions should sit near the centre of the room, as last week many fine sentences escaped the ears of those seated in the remote corners.

"We were requested by a very public-spirited individual to mention once more the want of three nails, for bonnets, in the entry. Also, to say that the air from the broken pane of glass on the east side of the room is very unpleasant to those who sit near.

"Proposed that the girls who exhibited so much taste and ingenuity in the arrangement of the festoons of evergreen, and tumblers of flowers around the teacher's desk, be now requested to remove the faded roses and drooping violets. We have gazed on these sad emblems long enough.

"Finally, proposed that greater care be taken by those who stay at noon to place their dinner-baskets in proper places. The contents of more than one were partly strewed upon the entry floor this morning."

If such a measure as this is adopted, it should not be continued uninterrupted for a very long time. Every thing of this sort should be occasionally changed, or it sooner or later becomes only a form.

14. THE SHOPPING EXERCISE.—I have often, when going a shopping, found difficulty and trouble in making change. I could never calculate very readily, and in the hurry and perplexity of the moment I was always making mistakes. I have heard others often make the same complaint, and I resolved to try the experiment of regularly teaching children to make change. I had a bright little class in Arithmetic, the members of which were always ready to engage with interest in any thing new, and to them I proposed my plan. It was to be called the Shopping Exercise. I first requested each individual to write something upon her slate which she would like to buy, if she was going a shopping, stating the quantity she wished and the price of it. To make the first lesson as simple as possible, I requested no one to go above ten, either in the quantity or price. When all were ready, I called upon some to read what she had written. Her next neighbor was then requested to tell us how much the purchase would amount to. Then the first one named a bill, which she supposed to be offered in payment, and the second showed what change was needed. A short specimen of the exercise will probably make it clearer than mere description.

Mary. Eight ounces of candy at seven cents.

Susan. Fifty-six cents.

Mary. One dollar.

Susan. Forty-four cents.

* * * * *

Susan. Nine yards of lace at eight cents.

Anna. Seventy-two cents.

Susan. Two dollars.

Anna. One dollar and twenty-eight cents.

* * * * *

Anna. Three pieces of tape at five cents.

Jane. Fifteen cents.

Anna. Three dollars.

Jane. Eighty-five cents.

Several voices. Wrong.

Jane. Two dollars and eighty-five cents.

* * * * *

Jane. Six pictures at eight cents.

Sarah. Forty-two cents.

Several voices. Wrong.

Sarah. Forty-eight cents.

Jane. One dollar.

Sarah. Sixty-two cents.

Several voices. Wrong.

Sarah. Fifty-two cents.

* * * * *

It will be perceived that the same individual who names the article and the price names also the bill which she would give in payment; and the one who sits next her, who calculated the amount, calculated also the change to be returned. She then proposed her example to the one next in the line, with whom the same course was pursued, and thus it passed down the class.

The exercise went on for some time in this way, till the pupils had become so familiar with it that I thought it best to allow them to take higher numbers. They were always interested in it, and made great improvement in a short time, and I myself derived great advantage from listening to them.

There is one more circumstance I will add which may contribute to the interest of this account. While the class were confined, in what they purchased, to the number ten, they were sometimes inclined to turn the exercise into a frolic. The variety of articles which they could find costing less than ten cents was so small, that, for the sake of getting something new, they would propose examples really ludicrous, such as these: three meeting-houses at two cents; four pianos at nine cents. But I soon found that if I allowed this at all, their attention was diverted from the main object, and occupied in seeking the most diverting and curious examples.

15. ARTIFICES IN RECITATIONS.—The teacher of a small newly-established school had all of his scholars classed together in some of their studies. At recitations he usually sat in the middle of the room, while the scholars occupied the usual places at their desks, which were arranged around the sides. In the recitation in Rhetoric, the teacher, after a time, observed that one or two of the class seldom answered appropriately the questions which came to them, but yet were always ready with some kind of answer—generally an exact quotation of the words of the book. Upon noticing these individuals more particularly, he was convinced that their books were open before them in some concealed situation. Another practice not uncommon in the class was that of prompting each other, either by whispers or writing. The teacher took no notice publicly of these practices for some time, until, at the close of an uncommonly good recitation, he remarked, "I think we have had a fine recitation to-day. It is one of the most agreeable things that I ever do to hear a lesson that is learned as well as this. Do you think it would be possible for us to have as good an exercise every day?" "Yes, sir," answered several, faintly. "Do you think it would be reasonable for me to expect of every member of the class that she should always be able to recite all her lessons without ever missing a single question?" "No, sir," answered all. "I do not expect it," said the teacher. "All I wish is that each of you should be faithful in your efforts to prepare your lessons. I wish you to study from a sense of duty, and for the sake of your own improvement. You know I do not punish you for failures. I have no going up or down, no system of marking. Your only reward, when you have made faithful preparation for a recitation, is the feeling of satisfaction which you will always experience; and when you have been negligent, your only punishment is a sort of uneasy feeling of self-reproach. I do not expect you all to be invariably prepared with every question of your lessons. Sometimes you will be unavoidably prevented from studying them, and at other times, when you have studied them very carefully, you may have forgotten, or you may fail from some misapprehension of the meaning in some cases. Do not, in such a case, feel troubled because you may not have appeared as well as some individual who has not been half as faithful as yourself. If you have done your duty, that is enough. On the other hand, you ought to feel no better satisfied with yourselves when your lesson has not been studied well, because you may have happened to know the parts which came to you. Have I done well? should always be the question, not, Have I managed to appear well?

"I will say a word here," continued the teacher, "upon a practice which I have known to be very common in some schools, and which I have been sorry to notice occasionally in this. I mean that of prompting, or helping each other along in some way at recitations. Now where a severe punishment is the consequence of a failure, there might seem to be some reasonableness in helping your companions out of difficulty, though even then such tricks are departures from honorable dealing. But, especially where there is no purpose to be served but that of appearing to know more than you do, it certainly must be considered a very mean kind of artifice. I think I have sometimes observed an individual to be prompted where evidently the assistance was not desired, and even where it was not needed. To whisper to an individual the answer to a question is sometimes to pay her rather a poor compliment at least, for it is the same as saying 'I am a better scholar than you are; let me help you along a little.'

"Let us then, hereafter, have only fair, open, honest dealings with each other; no attempts to appear to advantage by little artful manoeuvring; no prompting; no peeping into books. Be faithful and conscientious, and then banish anxiety for your success. Do you not think you will find this the best course?" "Yes, sir," answered every scholar. "Are you willing to pledge yourselves to adopt it?" "Yes, sir." "Those who are may raise their hands," said the teacher. Every hand was raised; and the pledge, there was evidence to believe, was honorably sustained.

16. KEEPING RESOLUTIONS.—The following are notes of a familiar lecture on this subject, given by a teacher at some general exercise in the school. The practice of thus reducing to writing what the teacher may say on such subjects will be attended with excellent effects.

This is a subject upon which young persons find much difficulty. The question is asked a thousand times, "How shall I ever learn to keep my resolutions?" Perhaps the great cause of your failures is this. You are not sufficiently definite in forming your purposes. You will resolve to do a thing without knowing with certainty whether it is even possible to do it. Again, you make resolutions which are to run on indefinitely, so that, of course, they can never be fully kept. For instance, one of you will resolve to rise earlier in the morning. You fix upon no definite hour, on any definite number of mornings, only you are going to "rise earlier." Morning comes, and finds you sleepy and disinclined to rise. You remember your resolution of rising earlier. "But then it is very early," you say. You resolved to rise earlier, but you didn't resolve to rise just then. And this, it may be, is the last of your resolution. Or perhaps you are, for a few mornings, a little earlier; but then, at the end of a week or fortnight, you do not know exactly whether your resolution has been broken or kept, for you had not decided whether to rise earlier for ten days or for ten years.

In the same vague and general manner, a person will resolve to be more studious or more diligent. In the case of an individual of a mature and well-disciplined mind, of acquired firmness of character, such a resolution might have effect. The individual will really devote more time and attention to his pursuits. But for one of you to make such a resolution would do no sort of good. It would only be a source of trouble and disquiet. You perceive there is nothing definite—nothing fixed about it. You have not decided what amount of additional time or attention to give to your studies, or when you will begin, or when you will end. There is no one time when you will feel that you are breaking your resolution, because there were no particular times when you were to study more. You waste one opportunity and another, and then, with a feeling of discouragement and self-reproach, conclude to abandon your resolution. "Oh! It does no good to make resolutions," you say; "I never shall keep them."

Now, if you would have the business of making resolutions a pleasant and interesting instead of a discouraging, disquieting one, you must proceed in a different manner. Be definite and distinct in your plan; decide exactly what you will do, and how you will do it—when you will begin, and when you will end. Instead of resolving to "rise earlier," resolve to rise at the ringing of the sunrise bells, or at some other definite time. Resolve to try this, as an experiment, for one morning, or for one week, or fortnight. Decide positively, if you decide at all, and then rise when the time comes, sleepy or not sleepy. Do not stop to repent of your resolution, or to consider the wisdom or folly of it, when the time for acting under it has once arrived.

In all cases, little and great, make this a principle—to consider well before you begin to act, but after you have begun to act, never stop to consider. Resolve as deliberately as you please, but be sure to keep your resolution, whether a wise one or an unwise one, after it is once made. Never allow yourself to reconsider the question of getting up, after the morning has come, except it be for some unforeseen circumstance. Get up for that time, and be more careful how you make resolutions again.

17. TOPICS.—The plan of the Topic Exercise, as we called it, is this. Six or seven topics are given out, information upon which is to be obtained from any source, and communicated verbally before the whole school, or sometimes before a class formed for this purpose the next day. The subjects are proposed both by teacher and scholars, and if approved, adopted. The exercise is intended to be voluntary, but ought to be managed in a way sufficiently interesting to induce all to join.

At the commencement of the exercise the teacher calls upon all who have any information in regard to the topic assigned—suppose, for example, it is Alabaster—to rise. Perhaps twenty individuals out of forty rise. The teacher may perhaps say to those in their seats,

"Do you not know any thing of this subject? Have you neither seen nor heard of alabaster, and had no means of ascertaining any thing in regard to it? If you have, you ought to rise. It is not necessary that you should state a fact altogether new and unheard-of, but if you tell me its color, or some of the uses to which it is applied, you will be complying with my request."

After these remarks, perhaps a few more rise, and possibly the whole school. Individuals are then called upon at random, each to state only one particular in regard to the topic in question. This arrangement is made so as to give all an opportunity to speak. If any scholar, after having mentioned one fact, has something still farther to communicate, she remains standing till called upon again. As soon as an individual has exhausted her stock of information, or if the facts that she intended to mention are stated by another, she takes her seat.

The topics at first most usually selected are the common objects by which we are surrounded—for example, glass, iron, mahogany, and the like. The list will gradually extend itself, until it will embrace a large number of subjects.

The object of this exercise is to induce pupils to seek for general information in an easy and pleasant manner, as by the perusal of books, newspapers, periodicals, and conversation with friends. It induces care and attention in reading, and discrimination in selecting the most useful and important facts from the mass of information. As individuals are called upon, also, to express their ideas verbally, they soon acquire by practice the power of expressing them with clearness and force, and communicating with ease and confidence the knowledge they possess.

18. Music.—The girls of our school often amused themselves in recess by collecting into little groups for singing. As there seemed to be a sufficient power of voice, and a respectable number who were willing to join in the performance, it was proposed one day that singing should be introduced as a part of the devotional exercises of the school.

The first attempt nearly resulted in a failure; only a few trembling voices succeeded in singing Old Hundred to the words "Be thou," etc. On the second day Peterborough was sung with much greater confidence on the part of the increased number of singers. The experiment was tried with greater and greater success for several days, when the teacher proposed that a systematic plan should be formed, by which there might be singing regularly at the close of school. It was then proposed that a number of singing-books be obtained, and one of the scholars, who was well acquainted with common tunes, be appointed as chorister. Her duty should be to decide what particular tune may be sung each day, inform the teacher of the metre of the hymn, and take the lead in the exercise. This plan, being approved of by the scholars, was adopted, and put into immediate execution. Several brought copies of the Sabbath School Hymn-Book, which they had in their possession, and the plan succeeded beyond all expectation. The greatest difficulty in the way was to get some one to lead. The chorister, however, was somewhat relieved from the embarrassment which she would naturally feel in making a beginning by the appointment of one or two individuals with herself, who were to act as her assistants. These constituted the leading committee, or, as it was afterward termed, Singing Committee.

Singing now became a regular and interesting exercise of the school, and the committee succeeded in managing the business themselves.

19. TABU.—An article was one day read in a school relating to the "Tabu" of the Sandwich Islanders. Tabu is a term with them which signifies consecrated—not to be touched—to be let alone—not to be violated. Thus, according to their religious observances, a certain day will be proclaimed Tabu; that is, one upon which there is to be no work or no going out.

A few days after this article was read, the scholars observed one morning a flower stuck up in a conspicuous place against the wall, with the word TABU in large characters above it. This excited considerable curiosity. The teacher informed them, in explanation, that the flower was a very rare and beautiful specimen, brought by one of the scholars, which he wished all to examine. "You would naturally feel a disposition to examine it by the touch," said he, "but you will all see that, by the time it was touched by sixty individuals, it would be likely to be injured, if not destroyed. So I concluded to label it Tabu. And it has occurred to me that this will be a convenient mode of apprising you generally that any article must not be handled. You know we sometimes have some apparatus exposed, which would be liable to injury from disturbance, where there are so many persons to touch it. I shall, in such a case, just mention that an article is Tabu, and you will understand that it is not only not to be injured, but not even touched."

A little delicate management of this sort will often have more influence over young persons than the most vehement scolding, or the most watchful and jealous precautions. The Tabu was always most scrupulously regarded, after this, whenever employed.

20. MENTAL ANALYSIS.—Scene, a class in Arithmetic at recitation. The teacher gives them an example in addition, requesting them, when they have performed it, to rise. Some finish it very soon, others are very slow in accomplishing the work.

"I should like to ascertain," says the teacher, "how great is the difference of rapidity with which different members of the class work in addition. I will give you another example, and then notice by my watch the shortest and longest time required to do it."

The result of the experiment was that some members of the class were two or three times as long in doing it as others.

"Perhaps you think," said the teacher, "that this difference is altogether owing to difference of skill; but it is not. It is mainly owing to the different methods adopted by various individuals. I am going to describe some of these, and, as I describe them, I wish you would notice them carefully, and tell me which you practice."

There are, then, three modes of adding up a column of figures, which I shall describe.

1. I shall call the first counting. You take the first figure, and then add the next to it by counting up regularly. There are three distinct ways of doing this.

(a.) "Counting by your fingers." ("Yes, sir.") "You take the first figure—suppose it is seven—and the one above it, eight. Now you recollect that to add eight, you must count all the fingers of one hand, and all but two again. So you say 'seven—eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.'"

"Yes, sir, yes, sir," said the scholars.

(b.) The next mode of counting is to do it mentally, without using your fingers at all; but, as it is necessary for you to have some plan to secure your adding the right number, you divide the units into sets of two each. Thus you remember that eight consists of four twos, and you accordingly say, when adding eight to seven, 'Seven; eight, nine; ten, eleven; twelve, thirteen,' &c.

(c.) "The third mode is to add by threes in the same way. You recollect that eight consists of two threes and a two; so you say, 'Seven; eight, nine, ten; eleven, twelve, thirteen; fourteen, fifteen.'"

The teacher here stops to ascertain how many of the class are accustomed to add in either of these modes. It is a majority.

2. The next general method is calculating; that is, you do not unite one number to another by the dull and tedious method of applying the units, one by one, as in the ways described under the preceding head, but you come to a result more rapidly by some mode of calculating. These modes are several.

(a.) "Doubling a number, and then adding or subtracting, as the case may require. For instance, in the example already specified, in order to add seven and eight, you say, 'Twice seven are fourteen, and one are fifteen'" ("Yes, sir, yes, sir"); "or, 'Twice eight are sixteen, and taking one off leaves fifteen." ("Yes, sir.")

(b.) Another way of calculating is to skip about the column, adding those numbers which you can combine most easily, and then bringing in the rest as you best can. Thus, if you see three eights in one column, you say, 'Three times eight are twenty-four,' and then you try to bring in the other numbers. Often, in such cases, you forget what you have added and what you have not, and get confused ("Yes, sir"), or you omit something in your work, and consequently it is incorrect.

(c.) If nines occur, you sometimes add ten, and then take off one, for it is very easy to add ten.

(d.) Another method of calculating, which is, however, not very common, is this: to take our old case, adding eight to seven, you take as much from the eight to add to the seven as will be sufficient to make ten, and then it will be easy to add the rest. Thus you think in a minute that three from the eight will make the seven a ten, and then there will be five more to add, which will make fifteen. If the next number was seven, you would say five of it will make twenty, and then there will be two left, which will make twenty-two.' This mode, though it may seem more intricate than any of the others, is, in fact, more rapid than any of them, when one is a little accustomed to it.

"These are the four principal modes of calculating which occur to me. Pupils do not generally practice any of them exclusively, but occasionally resort to each, according to the circumstances of the particular case."

The teacher here stopped to inquire how many of the class were accustomed to add by calculating in either of these ways or in any simpler ways.

3. "There is one more mode which I shall describe: it is by memory. Before I explain this mode, I wish to ask you some questions, which I should like to have you answer as quick as you can.

"How much is four times five? Four and five?

"How much is seven times nine? Seven and nine?

"Eight times six? Eight and six?

"Nine times seven? Nine and seven?"

After asking a few questions of this kind, it was perceived that the pupils could tell much more readily what was the result when the numbers were to be multiplied than when they were to be added.

"The reason is," said the teacher, "because you committed the multiplication table to memory, and have not committed the addition table. Now many persons have committed the addition table, so that it is perfectly familiar to them, and when they see any two numbers, the amount which is produced when they are added together comes to mind in an instant. Adding in this way is the last of the three modes I was to describe.

"Now of these three methods the last is undoubtedly the best. If you once commit the addition table thoroughly, you have it fixed for life; whereas if you do not, you have to make the calculation over again every time, and thus lose a vast amount of labor. I have no doubt that there are some in this class who are in the habit of counting, who have ascertained that seven and eight, for instance, make fifteen, by counting up from seven to fifteen hundreds of times. Now how much better it would be to spend a little time in fixing the fact in the mind once for all, and then, when you come to the case, seven and eight are—say at once 'Fifteen,' instead of mumbling over and over again, hundreds of times, 'Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.'

"The reason, then, that some of the class add so slowly, is not, probably, because they want skill and rapidity of execution, but because they work to a great disadvantage by working in the wrong way. I have often been surprised at the dexterity and speed with which some scholars can count with their fingers when adding, and yet they could not get through the sum very quick—at least they would have done it in half the time if the same effort had been made in traveling on a shorter road. We will therefore study the addition table now, in the class, before we go any farther."

21. TARDINESS.—When only a few scholars in a school are tardy, it may be their fault; but if a great many are so, it is the fault of the teacher or of the school. If a school is prosperous, and the children are going on well and happily in their studies, they will like their work in it; but we all come reluctantly to work which we are conscious we are not successfully performing.

There may be two boys in a school, both good boys; one, may be going on well in his classes, while the other, from the concurrence of some accidental train of circumstances, may be behindhand in his work, or wrongly classed, or so situated in other respects that his school duties perplex and harass him day by day. Now how different will be the feelings of these two boys in respect to coming to school. The one will be eager and prompt to reach his place and commence his duties, while the other will love much better to loiter in idleness and liberty in the open air. Nor is he, under the circumstances of the case, to blame for this preference. There is no one, old or young, who likes or can like to do what he himself and all around him think that he does not do well. It is true the teacher can not rely wholly on the interest which his scholars take in their studies to make them punctual at school; but if he finds among them any very general disposition to be tardy, he ought to seek for the fault mainly in himself and not in them.

The foregoing narratives and examples, it is hoped, may induce some of the readers of this book to keep journals of their own experiments, and of the incidents which may, from time to time, come under their notice, illustrating the principles of education, or simply the characteristics and tendencies of the youthful mind. The business of teaching will excite interest and afford pleasure just in proportion to the degree in which it is conducted by operations of mind upon mind, and the means of making it most fully so are careful practice, based upon and regulated by the results of careful observation. Every teacher, then, should make observations and experiments upon mind a part of his daily duty, and nothing will more facilitate this than keeping a record of results. There can be no opportunity for studying human nature more favorable than the teacher enjoys. The materials are all before him; his very business, from day to day, brings him to act directly upon them; and the study of the powers and tendencies of the human mind is not only the most interesting and the noblest that can engage human attention, but every step of progress he makes in it imparts an interest and charm to what would otherwise be a weary toil. It at once relieves his labors, while it doubles their efficiency and success.



CHAPTER IX.

THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY.



The teacher enters upon the duties of his office by a much more sudden transition than is common in the other avocations and employments of life. In ordinary cases, business comes at first by slow degrees, and the beginner is introduced to the labors and responsibilities of his employment in a very gradual manner. The young teacher, however, enters by a single step into the very midst of his labors. Having, perhaps, never even heard a class recite before, he takes a short walk some winter morning, and suddenly finds himself instated at the desk, his fifty scholars around him, all looking him in the face, and waiting to be employed. Every thing comes upon him at once. He can do nothing until the day and the hour for opening the school arrives—then he has every thing to do.

Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that the young teacher should look forward with unusual solicitude to his first day in school, and he desires, ordinarily, special instructions in respect to this occasion. Some such special instructions we propose to give in this chapter. The experienced teacher may think some of them too minute and trivial. But he must remember that they are intended for the youngest beginner in the humblest school; and if he recalls to mind his own feverish solicitude on the morning when he went to take his first command in the district school, he will pardon the seeming minuteness of detail.

1. It will be well for the young teacher to take opportunity, between the time of his engaging his school and that of his commencing it, to acquire as much information in respect to it beforehand as possible, so as to be somewhat acquainted with the scene of his labors before entering upon it. Ascertain the names and the characters of the principal families in the district, their ideas and wishes in respect to the government of the school, the kind of management adopted by one or two of the last teachers, the difficulties they fell into, the nature of the complaints made against them, if any, and the families with whom difficulty has usually arisen. This information must, of course, be obtained in private conversation; a good deal of it must be, from its very nature, highly confidential; but it is very important that the teacher should be possessed of it. He will necessarily become possessed of it by degrees in the course of his administration, when, however, it may be too late to be of any service to him. But, by judicious and proper efforts to acquire it beforehand, he will enter upon the discharge of his duties with great advantage. It is like a navigator's becoming acquainted beforehand with the nature and the dangers of the sea over which he is about to sail.

Such inquiries as these will, in ordinary cases, bring to the teacher's knowledge, in most districts in our country, some cases of peculiarly troublesome scholars, or unreasonable and complaining parents; and stories of their unjustifiable conduct on former occasions will come to him exaggerated by the jealousy of rival neighbors. There is danger that his resentment may be roused a little, and that his mind will assume a hostile attitude at once toward such individuals, so that he will enter upon his work rather with a desire to seek a collision with them, or, at least, with secret feelings of defiance toward them—feelings which will lead to that kind of unbending perpendicularity in his demeanor toward them which will almost inevitably lead to a collision. Now this is wrong. There is, indeed, a point where firm resistance to unreasonable demands becomes a duty; but, as a general principle, it is most unquestionably true that it is the teacher's duty to accommodate himself to the character and expectations of his employers, not to face and brave them. Those italicized words may be understood to mean something which would be entirely wrong; but in the sense in which I mean to use them there can be no question that they indicate the proper path for one employed by others to do work for them in all cases to pursue. If, therefore, the teacher finds by his inquiries into the state of his district that there are some peculiar difficulties and dangers there, let him not cherish a disposition to face and resist them, but to avoid them. Let him go with an intention to soothe rather than to irritate feelings which have been wounded before, to comply with the wishes of all so far as he can, even if they are not entirely reasonable, and, while he endeavors to elevate the standard and correct the opinions prevailing among his employers by any means in his power, to aim at doing it gently, and in a tone and manner suitable to the relation he sustains—in a word, let him skillfully avoid the dangers of his navigation, not obstinately run his ship against a rock on purpose on the ground that the rock has no business to be there.

This is the spirit, then, with which these preliminary inquiries in regard to the patrons of the school ought to be made. We come now to a second point.

2. It will assist the young teacher very much in his first day's labors if he takes measures for seeing and conversing with some of the older or more intelligent scholars on the day or evening before he begins his school, with a view of obtaining from them some acquaintance with the internal arrangements and customs of the school. The object of this is to obtain the same kind of information with respect to the interior of the school that was recommended in respect to the district under the former head. He may call upon a few families, especially those which furnish a large number of scholars for the school, and make as many minute inquiries of them as he can respecting all the interior arrangements to which they have been accustomed, what reading-books and other text-books have been used, what are the principal classes in all the several departments of instruction, and what is the system of discipline, and of rewards and punishments, to which the school has been accustomed.

If, in such conversations, the teacher should find a few intelligent and communicative scholars, he might learn a great deal about the past habits and condition of the school, which would be of great service to him. Not, by any means, that he will adopt and continue these methods as a matter of course, but only that a knowledge of them will render him very important aid in marking out his own course. The more minute and full the information of this sort is which he thus obtains, the better. If practicable, it would be well to make out a catalogue of all the principal classes, with the names of those individuals belonging to them who will probably attend the new school, and the order in which they were usually called upon to read or recite. The conversation which would be necessary to accomplish this would of itself be of great service. It would bring the teacher into an acquaintance with several important families and groups of children under the most favorable circumstances. The parents would see and be pleased with the kind of interest they would see the teacher taking in his new duties. The children would be pleased to be able to render their new instructor some service, and would go to the school-room on the next morning with a feeling of acquaintance with him, and a predisposition to be pleased. And if by chance any family should be thus called upon that had heretofore been captious or complaining, or disposed to be jealous of the higher importance or influence of other families, that spirit would be entirely softened and subdued by such an interview with their new instructor at their own fireside on the evening preceding the commencement of his labors. The great object, however, which the teacher would have in view in such inquiries should be the value of the information itself. As to the use which he will make of it, we shall speak hereafter.

3. It is desirable that the young teacher should meet his scholars first in an unofficial capacity. For this purpose, repair to the school-room on the first day at an early hour, so as to see and become acquainted with the scholars as they come in one by one. The intercourse between teacher and pupil should be like that between parents and children, where the utmost freedom is united with the most perfect respect. The father who is most firm and decisive in his family government can mingle most freely in the conversation and sports of his children without any derogation of his authority, or diminution of the respect they owe. Young teachers, however, are prone to forget this, and to imagine that they must assume an appearance of stern authority always, when in the presence of their scholars, if they wish to be respected or obeyed. This they call keeping up their dignity. Accordingly, they wait, on the morning of their induction into office, until their new subjects are all assembled, and then walk in with an air of the highest dignity, and with the step of a king; and sometimes a formidable instrument of discipline is carried in the hand to heighten the impression. Now there is no question that it is of great importance that scholars should have a high idea of the teacher's firmness and inflexible decision in maintaining his authority and repressing all disorder of every kind, but this impression should be created by their seeing how he acts in the various emergencies which will spontaneously occur, and not by assuming airs of importance or dignity, feigned for effect. In other words, their respect for him should be based on real traits of character as they see them brought out into natural action, and not on appearances assumed for the occasion.

It seems to me, therefore, that it is best for the teacher first to meet his scholars with the air and tone of free and familiar intercourse, and he will find his opportunity more favorable for doing this if he goes early on the first morning of his labors, and converses freely with those whom he finds there, and with others as they come in. He may take an interest with them in all the little arrangements connected with the opening of the school—the building of the fire, the paths through the snow, the arrangements of seats; calling upon them for information or aid, asking their names, and, in a word, entering fully and freely into conversation with them, just as a parent, under similar circumstances, would do with his children. All the children thus addressed will be pleased with the gentleness and affability of the teacher. Even a rough and ill-natured boy, who has perhaps come to the school with the express determination of attempting to make mischief, will be completely disarmed by being asked politely to help the teacher arrange the fire, or alter the position of his desk. Thus, by means of the half hour during which the scholars are coming together, and of the visits made in the preceding evening, as described under the last head, the teacher will find, when he calls upon the children to take their seats, that he has made a very large number of them his personal friends. Many of these will have communicated their first impressions to the others, so that he will find himself possessed, at the outset, of that which is of vital consequence in the opening of any administration—a strong party in his favor.

4. The time for calling the school to order and commencing exercises of some sort will at length arrive, though if the work of making personal acquaintances is going on prosperously, it may perhaps be delayed a little beyond the usual hour. When, however, the time arrives, we would strongly recommend that the first service by which the regular duties of the school are commenced should be an act of religious worship. There are many reasons why the exercises of the school should every day be thus commenced, and there are special reasons for it on the first day.

There are very few districts where parents would have any objection to this. They might, indeed, in some cases, if the subject were to be brought up formally before them as a matter of doubt, anticipate some difficulties, or create imaginary ones, growing out of the supposed sensitiveness of contending sects; but if the teacher were, of his own accord, to commence the plain, faithful, and honest discharge of this duty as a matter of course, very few would think of making any objection to it, and almost all would be satisfied and pleased with its actual operation. If, however, the teacher should, in any case, have reason to believe that such a practice would be contrary to the wishes of his employers, it would, according to views we have presented in another chapter, be wrong for him to attempt to introduce it. He might, if he should see fit, make such an objection a reason for declining to take the school; but he ought not, if he takes it, to act counter to the known wishes of his employers in so important a point. But if, on the other hand, no such objections are made known to him, he need not raise the question himself at all, but take it for granted that in a Christian land there will be no objection to imploring the Divine protection and blessing at the opening of a daily school.

If this practice is adopted, it will have a most powerful influence upon the moral condition of the school. It must be so. Though many will be inattentive, and many utterly unconcerned, yet it is not possible to bring children, even in form, into the presence of God every day, and to utter in their hearing the petitions which they ought to present, without bringing a powerful element of moral influence to bear upon their hearts. The good will be made better; the conscientious more conscientious still; and the rude and savage will be subdued and softened by the daily attempt to lead them to the throne of their Creator. To secure this effect, the devotional service must be an honest one. There must be nothing feigned or hypocritical; no hackneyed phrases used without meaning, or intonations of assumed solemnity. It must be honest, heartfelt, simple prayer; the plain and direct expression of such sentiments as children ought to feel, and of such petitions as they ought to offer. We shall speak presently of the mode of avoiding some abuses to which this exercise is liable; but if these sources of abuse are avoided, and the duty is performed in that plain, simple, direct, and honest manner in which it certainly will be if it springs from the heart, it must have a great influence on the moral progress of the children, and, in fact, in all respects on the prosperity of the school.

But, then, independently of the advantages which may be expected to result from the practice of daily prayer in school, it would seem to be the imperious duty of the teacher to adopt it. So many human minds committed thus to the guidance of one, at a period when the character receives so easily and so permanently its shape and direction, and in a world of probation like this, is an occasion which seems to demand the open recognition of the hand of God on the part of any individual to whom such a trust is committed. The duty springs so directly out of the attitude in which the teacher and pupil stand in respect to each other, and the relation they together bear to the Supreme, that it would seem impossible for any one to hesitate to admit the duty, without denying altogether the existence of a God.

How vast the responsibility of giving form and character to the human soul! How mighty the influence of which the unformed minds of a group of children are susceptible! How much their daily teacher must inevitably exert upon them! If we admit the existence of God at all, and that he exerts any agency whatever in the moral world which he has produced, here seems to be one of the strongest cases in which his intervention should be sought. And then, when we reflect upon the influence which would be exerted upon the future religious character of this nation by having the millions of children training up in the schools accustomed, through all the years of early life, to being brought daily into the presence of the Supreme, with thanksgiving, confession, and prayer, it can hardly seem possible that the teacher who wishes to be faithful in his duties should hesitate in regard to this. Some teacher may perhaps say that he can not perform it because he is not a religious man—he makes no pretensions to piety. But this can surely be no reason. He ought to be a religious man, and his first prayer offered in school may be the first act by which he becomes so. Entering the service of Jehovah is a work which requires no preliminary steps. It is to be done at once by sincere confession, and an honest prayer for forgiveness for the past, and strength for time to come. A daily religious service in school may be, therefore, the outward act by which he, who has long lived without God, may return to his duty.

If, from such considerations, the teacher purposes to have a daily religious service in his school, he should by all means begin on the first day, and when he first calls his school to order. He should mention to his pupils the great and obvious duty of imploring God's guidance and blessing in all their ways, and then read a short portion of Scripture, with an occasional word or two of simple explanation, and offer, himself, a short and simple prayer. In some cases, teachers are disposed to postpone this duty a day or two, from timidity or other causes, hoping that, after becoming acquainted a little with the school, and having completed their more important arrangements, they shall find it easier to begin. But this is a great mistake. The longer the duty is postponed, the more difficult and trying it will be. And then the moral impressions will be altogether more strong and salutary if an act of solemn religious worship is made the first opening act of the school.

Where the teacher has not sufficient confidence that the general sense of propriety among his pupils will preserve good order and decorum during the exercise, it may be better for him to read a prayer selected from books of devotion, or prepared by himself expressly for the occasion. By this plan his school will be, during the exercise, under his own observation, as at other times. It may, in some schools where the number is small, or the prevailing habits of seriousness and order are good, be well to allow the older scholars to read the prayer in rotation, taking especial care that it does not degenerate into a mere reading exercise, but that it is understood, both by readers and hearers, to be a solemn act of religious worship. In a word, if the teacher is really honest and sincere in his wish to lead his pupils to the worship of God, he will find no serious difficulty in preventing the abuses and avoiding the dangers which some might fear, and in accomplishing vast good, both in promoting the prosperity of the school, and in the formation of the highest and best traits of individual character.

We have dwelt, perhaps, longer on this subject than we ought to have done in this place; but its importance, when viewed in its bearings on the thousands of children daily assembling in our district schools must be our apology. The embarrassments and difficulties arising from the extreme sensitiveness which exists among the various denominations of Christians in our land, threaten to interfere very seriously with giving a proper degree of religious instruction to the mass of the youthful population. But we must not, because we have no national church, cease to have a national religion. All our institutions ought to be so administered as openly to recognize the hand of God, and to seek his protection and blessing; and in regard to none is it more imperiously necessary than in respect to our common schools.

5. After the school is thus opened, the teacher will find himself brought to the great difficulty which embarrasses the beginning of his labors, namely, that of finding immediate employment at once for the thirty or forty children who all look up to him waiting for their orders. I say thirty or forty, for the young teachers first school will usually be a small one. His object should be, in all ordinary cases, for the first few days, twofold: first, to revive and restore, in the main, the general routine of classes and exercises pursued by his predecessor in the same school; and, secondly, while doing this, to become as fully acquainted with his scholars as possible.

It is best, then, ordinarily, for the teacher to begin the school as his predecessor closed it, and make the transition to his own perhaps more improved method a gradual one. In some cases a different course is wise undoubtedly, as, for example, where a teacher is commencing a private school, on a previously well-digested plan of his own, or where one who has had experience, and has confidence in his power to bring his new pupils promptly and at once into the system of classification and instruction which he prefers. It is difficult, however, to do this, and requires a good deal of address and decision. It is far easier and safer, and in almost all cases better, in every respect, for a young teacher to revive and restore the former arrangements in the main, and take his departure from them. He may afterward make changes, as he may find them necessary or desirable, and even bring the school soon into a very different state from that in which he finds it; but it will generally be more pleasant for himself, and better for the school, to avoid the shock of a sudden and entire revolution.

The first thing, then, when the scholars are ready to be employed, is to set them at work in classes or upon lessons, as they would have been employed had the former teacher continued in charge of the school. To illustrate clearly how this may be done, we may give the following dialogue:

Teacher. Can any one of the boys inform me what was the first lesson that the former master used to hear in the morning?

The boys are silent, looking to one another.

Teacher. Did he hear any recitation immediately after school began?

Boys (faintly, and with hesitation). No, sir.

Teacher. How long was it before he began to hear lessons?

Several boys simultaneously. "About half an hour." "A little while." "Quarter of an hour."

"What did he do at this time?"

"Set copies," "Looked over sums," and various other answers are perhaps given.

The teacher makes a memorandum of this, and then inquires,

"And what lesson came after this?"

"Geography."

"All the boys in this school who studied Geography may rise."

A considerable number rise.

"Did you all recite together?"

"No, sir."

"There are two classes, then?"

"Yes. sir." "Yes, sir." "More than two."

"All who belong to the class that recites first in the morning may remain standing; the rest may sit."

The boys obey, and eight or ten of them remain standing. The teacher calls upon one of them to produce his book, and assigns them a lesson in regular course. He then requests some one of the number to write out, in the course of the day, a list of the class, and to bring it with him to the recitation the next morning.

"Are there any other scholars in the school who think it would be well for them to join this class?"

In answer to this question probably some new scholars might rise, or some hitherto belonging to other classes, who might be of suitable age and qualifications to be transferred. If these individuals should appear to be of the proper standing and character, they might at once be joined to the class in question, and directed to take the same lesson.

In the same manner, the other classes would pass in review before the teacher, and he would obtain a memorandum of the usual order of exercises, and in a short time set all his pupils at work preparing for the lessons of the next day. He would be much aided in this by the previous knowledge which he would have obtained by private conversation, as recommended under a former head. Some individual cases would require a little special attention, such as new scholars, small children, and others; but he would be able, before a great while, to look around him and see his whole school busy with the work he had assigned them, and his own time, for the rest of the morning, in a great degree at his own command.

I ought to say, however, that it is not probable that he would long continue these arrangements unaltered. In hearing the different classes recite, he would watch for opportunities for combining them, or discontinuing those where the number was small; he would alter the times of recitation, and group individual scholars into classes, so as to bring the school, in a very short time, into a condition corresponding more nearly with his own views. All this can be done very easily and pleasantly when the wheels are once in motion; for a school is like a ship in one respect—most easily steered in the right direction when under sail.

By this plan, also, the teacher obtains what is almost absolutely necessary at the commencement of his labors, time for observation. It is of the first importance that he should become acquainted, as early as possible, with the characters of the boys, especially to learn who those are which are most likely to be troublesome. There always will be a few who will require special watch and care, and generally there will be only a few. A great deal depends on finding these individuals out in good season, and bringing the pressure of a proper authority to bear upon them soon. By the plan I have recommended of not attempting to remodel the school wholly at once, the teacher obtains time for noticing the pupils, and learning something about their individual characters. In fact, so important is this, that it is the plan of some teachers, whenever they commence a new school, to let the boys have their own way, almost entirely, for a few days, in order to find out fully who the idle and mischievous are. This is, perhaps, going a little too far; but it is certainly desirable to enjoy as many opportunities for observation as can be secured on the first few days of the school.

6. Make it, then, a special object of attention, during the first day or two, to discover who the idle and mischievous individuals are. They will have generally seated themselves together in little knots; for, as they are aware that the new teacher does not know them, they will imagine that, though perhaps separated before, they can now slip together again without any trouble. It is best to avoid, if possible, an open collision with any of them at once, in order that they may be the better observed. Whenever, therefore, you see idleness or play, endeavor to remedy the evil for the time by giving the individual something special to do, or by some other measure, without, however, seeming to notice the misconduct. Continue thus adroitly to stop every thing disorderly, while, at the same time, you notice and remember where the tendencies to disorder exist.