The Teacher

"Oh,—you and Joseph are particular friends then, I suppose."

"Why,—yes sir."

"I am not surprised then, that you want to sit together,—though, to tell the truth, that is rather a reason why I should separate you."

"Why sir?"

"Because I have observed that when two great friends are seated together, they are always more apt to whisper and play.—Have not you observed it?"

"Why,—yes sir."

"You may go and ask Joseph to come here."

When the two boys make their appearance again, the teacher continues.

"Joseph, James tells me that you and he want to sit together, and says you are particular friends. But I tell him," he adds, smiling, "that that is rather a reason for separating you. Now if I should put you both into different parts of the school, next to boys that you are not acquainted with, it would be a great deal easier for you to be still and studious than it is now. Do not you think so yourselves?"

The boys look at one another and smile.

"However, there is one way you can do. You can guard against the extra temptation by extra care; and on the whole, as I believe you are pretty good boys, I will let you have your choice. You may stay as you are, and make extra exertion to be perfectly regular and studious, or I will find seats for you where it will be a great deal easier for you to be so. Which do you think you should rather do?"

The boys hesitate, look at one another, and presently say that they had rather sit together.

"Well," said the teacher, "it is immaterial to me whether you sit together or apart, if you are only good boys. So you may take your seats and try it a little while. If you find it too hard work to be studious and orderly together, I can make a change hereafter. I shall soon see."

Such a conversation will have many good effects. It will make the boys expect to be watched, without causing them to feel that their characters have suffered. It will stimulate them to great exertion to avoid all misconduct, and it will prepare the way for separating them afterwards without awakening feelings of resentment, if the experiment of their sitting together should fail.

Another case would be managed perhaps in a little different way, where the tendency to play was more decided. After speaking to the individuals mildly, two or three times, you see them again at play. You ask them to wait that day after school and come to your desk.

They have, then, the rest of the day to think occasionally of the difficulty they have brought themselves into, and the anxiety and suspense which they will naturally feel, will give you every advantage for speaking to them with effect;—and if you should be engaged a few minutes with some other business, after school, so that they should have to stand a little while in silent expectation, waiting for their turn, it would contribute to the permanence of the effect.

"Well, boys," at length you say, with a serious but frank tone of voice, "I saw you playing in a disorderly manner to-day. And in the first place I want you to tell me honestly all about it. I am not going to punish you,—but I want you to be open and honest about it. What were you doing?"

The boys hesitate.

"George, what did you have in your hand?"

"A piece of paper."

"And what were you doing with it?"

George. "William was trying to take it away from me."

"Was there any thing on it?"

"Yes sir."

"What?"

George looks down a little confused.

William. "George had been drawing some pictures on it.

"I see each of you are ready to tell of the other's fault, but it would be much more honorable if each was open in acknowledging his own. Have I ever had to speak to you before for playing together in school?"

"Yes sir, I believe you have," says one, looking down.

"More than once?"

"Yes sir."

"More than twice?"

"I do not recollect exactly,—I believe you have."

"Well, now, what do you think I ought to do next?"

The boys have nothing to say.

"Do you prefer sitting together, or are you willing to have me separate you?"

"We should rather sit together, sir, if you are willing," says George.

"I have no objection to your sitting together, if you could only resist the temptation to play. I want all the boys in the school to have pleasant seats."

There is a pause,—the teacher hesitating what to do.

"Suppose now I were to make one more experiment, and let you try to be good boys in your present seat, would you really try?"

"Yes sir."—"Yes sir, we will," are the replies.

"And if I should find that you still continue to play, and should have to separate you, will you move into your new seats pleasantly, and with good humor, feeling that I have done right about it?"

"Yes sir, we will."

Thus it will be seen that there may be cases where the teacher may make arrangements for separating his scholars, on an open and distinct understanding with them in respect to the cause of it. We have given these cases not that exactly such ones will be very likely to occur, or that when they do, the teacher is to manage them in exactly the way here described, but to exhibit more clearly to the reader than could be done by any general description, the spirit and tone which a teacher ought to assume towards his pupils. We wished to exhibit this in contrast with the harsh and impatient manner, which teachers too often assume in such a case;—as follows.

"John Williams and Samuel Smith, come here to me," exclaims the master, in a harsh, impatient tone, in the midst of the exercises of the afternoon.

The scholars all look up from their work;—the culprits slowly rise from their seats, and with a sullen air come down to the floor.

"You are playing, boys, all the time, and I will not have it. John, do you take your books and go and sit out there by the window, and, Samuel, you come and sit here on this front seat,—and if I catch you playing again I shall certainly punish you severely."

The boys make the move, with as much rattling and disturbance as is possible without furnishing proof of wilful intention to make a noise, and when they get their new seats, and the teacher is again engaged upon his work, they exchange winks and nods, and, in ten minutes, are slyly cannonading each other with paper balls.

In regard to all the directions that have been given under this head, I ought to say again before concluding it, that they are mainly applicable to the case of beginners, and of small schools. The general principles are, it is true, of universal application, but it is only where a school is of moderate size that the details of position, in respect to individual scholars, can be minutely studied. More summary processes are necessary, I am aware, when the school is very large, and the time of the teacher is incessantly engaged.

9. In some districts in New England, the young teacher will find one or more boys, generally among the larger ones, who will come to the school with the express determination to make a difficulty if they can. The best way is generally to face these individuals at once, in the most direct and open manner, and, at the same time, with perfect good humor, and kindness of feeling and deportment towards them personally. An example or two will best illustrate what I mean.

A teacher heard a rapping noise repeatedly, one day, just after he had commenced his labors, under such circumstances as to lead him to suppose it was designed. He did not appear to notice it, but remained after school until the scholars had all gone, and then made a thorough examination. He found at length a broken place in the plastering, where a lath was loose, and a string was tied to the end of it, and thence carried along the wall under the benches, to the seat of a mischievous boy, and fastened to a nail. By pulling the string he could spring the lath, and then let it snap back to its place. He left every thing as it was, and the next day while engaged in a lesson, he heard the noise again.

He rose from his seat.

The scholars all looked up from their books.

"Did you hear that noise?" said he.

"Yes sir."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No sir."

"Very well, I only wanted to call your attention to it. I may perhaps speak of it again, by and by."

He then resumed his exercise as if nothing had happened. The guilty boy was agitated and confused, and was utterly at a loss to know what to do. What could the teacher mean? Had he discovered the trick?—and if so what was he going to do?

He grew more and more uneasy, and resolved that, at all events, it was best for him to retreat. Accordingly, at the next recess, as the teacher had anticipated, he went slyly to the lath, cut the string, then returned to his seat, and drew the line in, rolled it up, and put it in his pocket. The teacher, who was secretly watching him, observed the whole manœuvre.

At the close of the school, when the books were laid aside, and all was silence, he treated the affair thus.

"Do you remember the noise to which I called your attention early this afternoon?

"Yes, sir."

"I will explain it to you now. One of the boys tied a string to a loose lath in the side of the room, and then having the end of it at his seat, he was pulling it, to make a noise to disturb us."

The scholars all looked astonished, and then began to turn round towards one another to see who the offender could be. The culprit began to tremble.

"He did it several times yesterday, and would have gone on doing it, had I not spoken about it to-day. Do you think this was wrong or not?"

"Yes sir;" "wrong;" "wrong;" are the replies.

"What harm does it do?"

"It interrupts the school."

"Yes. Is there any other harm?"

The boys hesitate.

"It gives me trouble and pain. Should you not suppose it would?"

"Yes sir."

"Have I ever treated any boy or girl in this school unjustly or unkindly?"

"No sir;" "No sir."

"Then why should any boy or girl wish to give me trouble or pain?"

There was a pause. The guilty individual expected that the next thing would be to call him out for punishment.

"Now what do you think I ought to do with such a boy?"

No answer.

"Perhaps I ought to punish him, but I am very unwilling to do that. I concluded to try another plan, to treat him with kindness and forbearance. So I called your attention to it this afternoon, to let him know that I was observing it, and to give him an opportunity to remove the string. And he did. He went in the recess and cut off the string. I shall not tell you his name, for I do not wish to injure his character. All I want is to have him a good boy."

A pause.

"I think I shall try this plan; for he must have some feelings of honor and gratitude, and if he has, he certainly will not try to give me pain or trouble win after this. And now I shall say no more about it, nor think any more about it; only, to prove that it is all as I say, if you look there under that window, after school, you will see the lath with the end of the string round it, and by pulling it, you can make it snap."

Another case, a little more serious in its character, is the following.

A teacher having had some trouble with a rude and savage-looking boy, made some inquiry respecting him out of school, and incidentally learned that he had once or twice before openly rebelled against the authority of the school, and that he was now, in the recesses, actually preparing a club with which he was threatening to defend himself, if the teacher should attempt to punish him.

The next day, soon after the boys had gone out, he took his hat and followed them, and turning round a corner of the schoolhouse, found the boys standing around the young rebel, who was sitting upon a log, shaving the handle of the club smooth, with his pocket-knife. He was startled at the unexpected appearance of the teacher, and the first impulse was to hide his club behind him, but it was too late, and supposing that the teacher was ignorant of his designs, he went on sullenly with his work, feeling, however, greatly embarrassed.

"Pleasant day, boys," said the teacher. "This is a fine sunny nook for you to talk in."

"Seems to me, however, you ought to have a better seat than this old log," continued he, taking his seat at the same time by the side of the boy.

"Not so bad a seat, however, after all. What are you making, Joseph?"

Joseph mumbled out something inarticulate by way of reply.

"I have got a sharper knife," said he, drawing his penknife out of his pocket. And then, "Let me try it," he continued, gently taking the club out of Joseph's hand.

The boys looked surprised, some exchanged nods and winks, others turned away to conceal a laugh; but the teacher engaged in conversation with them, and soon put them all at their ease, except poor Joseph, who could not tell how this strange interview was likely to end.

In the mean time the teacher went on shaving the handle smooth, and rounding the ends. "You want," said he, "a rasp or coarse file for the ends, and then you could finish it finely. But what are you making this formidable club for?"

Joseph was completely at a loss what to say. He began to show evident marks of embarrassment and confusion.

"I know what it is for; it is to defend yourself against me with, is it not, boys?" said he, appealing to the others.

A faint "yes sir," or two, was the reply.

"Well now, Joseph, it will be a great deal better for us both to be friends than to be enemies. You had better throw this club away, and save yourself from punishment by being a good boy. Come now," said he, handing him back his club, "throw it over into the field as far as you can, and we will all forget that you ever made it."

Joseph sat the picture of shame and confusion. Better feelings were struggling for admission, and the case was decided by a broad-faced, good-natured-looking boy, who stood by his side saying almost involuntarily,

"Better throw it, Joe."

The club flew, end over end, into the field. Joseph returned to his allegiance, and never attempted to rise in rebellion again.

The ways by which boys engage in open, intentional disobedience, are, of course, greatly varied, and the exact treatment will depend upon the features of the individual case. But the frankness, the openness, the plain dealing, and the kind and friendly tone, which it is the object of the foregoing illustrations to exhibit, should characterize all.

11. We have already alluded to the importance of a delicate regard for the characters of the boys, in all the measures of discipline adopted at the commencement of a school. This is in fact of the highest importance at all times, and is peculiarly so at the outset. A wound to the feelings is sometimes inflicted by a single transaction, which produces a lasting injury to the character. Children are very sensitive to ridicule or disgrace, and some are most acutely so. A cutting reproof administered in public, or a punishment which exposes the individual to the gaze of others, will often burn far more deeply into the heart than the teacher imagines.

And it is often the cause of great and lasting injury too. By destroying the character of a pupil, you make him feel that he has nothing more to lose or gain, and destroy that kind of interest in his own moral condition, which alone will allure him to virtuous conduct. To expose children to public ridicule or contempt, tends either to make them sullen and despondent, or else to arouse their resentment and to make them reckless and desperate. Most persons remember through life, some instances in their early childhood, in which they were disgraced or ridiculed at school; and the permanence of the recollection is a test of the violence of the effect.

Be very careful then to avoid, especially at the commencement of the school, publicly exposing those who do wrong. Sometimes you may make the offence public, as in the case of the snapping of the lath described under a former head, while you kindly conceal the name of the offender. Even if the school generally understand who he is, the injury of public exposure is almost altogether avoided, for the sense of disgrace does not come nearly so vividly home to the mind of a child, from hearing occasional allusions to his offence by individuals among his play-mates, as when he feels himself at a particular time the object of universal attention and dishonor. And then besides, if the pupil perceives that the teacher is tender of his reputation, he will, by a feeling somewhere between imitation and sympathy, begin to feel a little tender of it too. Every exertion should be made therefore, to lead children to value their character, and to help them to preserve it; and especially to avoid, at the beginning, every unnecessary sacrifice of it.

And yet there are cases where shame is the very best possible remedy for juvenile faults. If a boy, for example, is self-conceited, bold, and mischievous, with feelings somewhat callous, and an influence extensive and bad, an opportunity will sometimes occur to hold up his conduct to the just reprobation of the school, with great advantage. By this means, if it is done in such a way as to secure the influence of the school on the right side, many good effects are sometimes attained. His pride and self-conceit are humbled,—his bad influence receives a very decided check, and he is forced to draw back at once from the prominent stand he has occupied.

Richard Jones; for example, is a rude, coarse, self-conceited boy,—often doing wrong both in school and out, and yet possessed of that peculiar influence which a bad boy often contrives to exert in school. The teacher, after watching some time for an opportunity to humble him, one day overhears a difficulty among the boys, and looking out of the window, observes that he is taking away a sled from one of the little boys, to slide down hill upon, having none of his own. The little boy resists as well as he can, and complains bitterly; but it is of no avail.

At the close of the school that day, the teacher commences conversation on the subject as follows.

"Boys, do you know what the difference is between stealing and robbery?"

"Yes sir."

"What?"

The boys hesitate, and look at one another.

"Suppose a thief were to go into a man's store in the day time, and take away something secretly, would it be stealing or robbery?"

"Stealing."

"Suppose he should meet him in the road and take it away by force?"

"Then it would be robbery."

"Yes; when that which belongs to another is taken secretly, it is called stealing; when it is taken openly or with violence, it is called robbery. Which now do you think is the worst?"

"Robbery."

"Yes, for it is more barefaced and determined—then it gives a great deal more pain to the one who is injured. To-day I saw one of the boys in this school taking away another boy's sled, openly and with violence."

The boys all look round towards Richard.

"Was that of the nature of stealing or robbery?"

"Robbery," say the boys.

"Was it real robbery?"

They hesitate.

"If any of you think of any reason why it was not real robbery, you may name it."

"He gave the sled back to him," says one of the boys.

"Yes. And therefore to describe the action correctly, we should not say Richard robbed a boy of his sled, but that he robbed him of his sled for a time, or he robbed him of the use of his sled. Still, in respect to the nature and the guilt of it, it was robbery."

"There is another thing which ought to be observed about it. Whose sled was it that Richard took away?"

"James Thompson's."

"James, you may stand up."

"Notice his size, boys,—I should like to have Richard Jones stand up too, so that you might compare them; but I presume he feels very much ashamed of what he has done, and it would be very unpleasant for him to stand up. You all remember, however, how large he is. Now when I was a boy, it used to be considered dishonorable and cowardly for a large, strong boy to abuse a little one who cannot defend himself. Is it considered so now?"

"Yes sir."

"It ought to be, certainly; though, were it not for such a case as this, we should not have thought of considering Richard Jones a coward. It seems he did not dare to try to take away a sled from a boy who was as big as himself, but attacked little James, for he knew he was not strong enough to defend himself."

Now, in some such cases as this, great good may be done both in respect to the individual, and to the state of public sentiment in school, by openly exposing a boy's misconduct. The teacher must always take care, however, that the state of mind and character in the guilty individual, is such that public exposure is adapted to work well as a remedy, and also that in managing it he carries the sympathies of the other boys with him. To secure this, he must avoid all harsh and exaggerated expressions, or direct reproaches, and while he is mild and gentle and forbearing himself, lead the boys to understand and feel the nature of the sin which he exposes. The opportunities for doing this to advantage will, however, be rare. Generally it will be best to manage cases of discipline more privately, so as to protect the characters of those that offend.

The teacher should thus, in accordance with the directions we have given, commence his labors with careful circumspection, patience, frankness, and honest good will towards every individual of his charge. He will find less difficulty at the outset than he would have expected, and soon have the satisfaction of perceiving that a mild but most efficient government is quietly and firmly established in the little kingdom over which he is called to reign.

1

The following articles, which were really offered for such a purpose, will serve as specimens. One or two were written by teachers. I do not know the authors of the others. I do not offer them as remarkable compositions: every teacher will see that they are not so. The design of inserting them is merely to show that the ordinary literary ability to be found in every school, may be turned to useful account, by simply opening a channel for it, and to furnish such teachers as may be inclined to try the experiment, the means of making the plan clearly understood by their pupils.

MARKS OF A BAD SCHOLAR

"At the time when she should be ready to take her seat at school, she commences preparation for leaving home. To the extreme annoyance of those about her, all is now hurry and bustle and ill humor. Thorough search is to be made for every book or paper, for which she has occasion; some are found in one place, some in another, and others are forgotten altogether. Being finally equipped, she casts her eye at the clock, hopes to be in tolerable good season, (notwithstanding that the hour for opening the school has already arrived,) and sets out, in the most violent hurry.

After so much haste, she is unfitted for attending properly to the duties of the school, until a considerable time after her arrival. If present at the devotional exercises, she finds it difficult to command her attention, even when desirous of so doing, and her deportment at this hour, is accordingly marked with an unbecoming listlessness and abstraction.

When called to recitations, she recollects that some task was assigned, which till that moment, she had forgotten; of others she had mistaken the extent, most commonly thinking them to be shorter than her companions suppose. In her answers to questions with which she should be familiar, she always manifests more or less of hesitation, and what she ventures to express, is very commonly in the form of a question. In these, as in all exercises, there is an inattention to general instructions. Unless what is said be addressed particularly to herself, her eyes are directed towards another part of the room; it may be her thoughts are employed about something not at all connected with the school. If reproved by her teacher, for negligence in any respects, she is generally provided with an abundance of excuses, and however mild the reproof, she receives it as a piece of extreme severity.

Throughout her whole deportment, there is an air of indolence, and a want of interest in those exercises which should engage her attention. In her seat, she most commonly sits in some lazy posture;—either with her elbows upon her desk, her head leaning upon her hands, or with her seat tipped forwards or backwards. When she has occasion to leave her seat, it is in a sauntering, lingering gait;—perhaps some trick is contrived on the way, for exciting the mirth of her companions.