The County Institute.

PROF. M. V. O'SHEA.

No one will deny that the question of the proper training of the teacher has in these last years received due attention at the hands alike of the specialist and of the layman. There has been, and is still, interminable disputation regarding the sort of equipment one should possess who aspires to "guide the tender thought, to teach the young idea how to shoot." This is a capital topic to give occupation to those who delight in the game of logomachy; for where matters are so involved and principles so obscure there is opportunity for combatants to appear to have great wit, and no one is able to prove the contrary. Some hold that the teacher is born and not made; that instinct and not art wins success in the schoolroom. One brilliant layman puts it in this way: "Teaching is like fighting; all you have to do is to get your enemy into a corner and then give it to him"; but, unfortunately, he passes off the stage without soliloquizing upon the methods of driving pupils into a corner.

There are others who think a pedagog needs most instruction in the use of his educational material, and they do not attach so much importance to a thoro mastery of the material itself. Give us method, they say, and we shall not be crying for anything else. The wishes of this last group have been gratified, in a measure at least, in the past, for some of the institutions that are pleased to call themselves training schools have turned out a product full of method but empty of substance.

It is worthy of remark that in all this waste of discussion about the training of teachers, scarcely any regard has been paid to the needs of those who wield the rod in rural schools. Perhaps it is a fortunate thing, however. since there have been going forward certain enterprises which are calculated to equip the common school teacher more perfectly for his work. The es tablishment of county training schools is certain to exercise a vast influence upon the work of the little red schoolhouse. But the county institute is still the principal instrument by means of which the mind and heart of callow youth are molded into forms of sympathy and keenness and appreciation, which forms of intellect and disposition alone will fit in with situations presented in the schoolroom. It is to be feared, however, that this molding is often done by an unpracticed hand, and that the result is but crude and unshapely.

Not long since the writer was an attendant upon certain phases of the work carried on at a county institute, and all he heard was some talk about rules of grammar, devices for shortening processes of calculation, regulations for suppressing the spontaniety of the young, and instructions how to make contracts so that the teacher would be sure to get her money. Between the periods devoted to these serious matters the county superintendent, the book

* This article has an added interest on account of the fact that Prof. M. V. O'Shea will be one of the speakers at Pacific Grove.

agents, and any other wanderer that happened in, made their appeals to the attention and sympathies of the teachers present.

The effect of all this upon the minds and hearts of the unfortunate pedagogs was not such as one could grow enthusiastic over, if facial expression counts for anything. Their dull, heavy countenances betokened an utter lack of interest in what was going on, or failing to go on, perhaps. The feelings were not touched, and matters appertaining to the nature and modes of fashioning a child's life at different ages was not even hinted at by instructors. There was no Promethean fire in the speakers or in the listeners. The lecturers had nothing to give, so that the teachers imbibed nothing, and there was really nothing going forward. That institute was ready for interment.

Those fertile minds that conceived the county institute more than a half century ago thought it would be very helpful in giving teachers both a knowledge of what they were to teach, and how they were to teach it; and as reading, writing, spelling, and ciphering were the only branches of instruction in those days they were the ones that were taught in the institute. As time went on and the schools, like everything else, became more efficient, it was realized that academic training should be gotten somewhere else than in the week's institute; and the time was gradually taken up wholly with instruction in method. The institute conductor went around from county to . county with his pack of devices wrought out of his inner consciousness, or, what is more likely, gleaned from books that had been wrought out of some one else's inner consciousness; and these he crammed down the throats of the teachers for five days. Then, in the course of events, people began to lose faith in the value of this sort of instruction; if it made any impression upon teachers it was to render their work mechanical and artificial. And it was found wanting in the place where it should have been most in evidence, namely, in arousing in the heart of the teacher warm sympathy for the pupil. This view of the case is now gaining ground, tho it has not made much headway in certain parts of our country, the more's the pity.

It seems as if we had now reached the point where we can say, without any fear of overstating the matter, that there are certain things a teacher must possess himself of before he can be entrusted with the guiding of the tender thought. In the first place, he must have made his own the best thought which the race has produced, and which are incentives to the highest form of social life. One who has not absorbed into his own being the best that has been wrought out of the experience of the race as preserved for us in its great literature is not rightly equipped to shape the career of another. Can the blind lead the blind any more successfully in the spiritual than in the physical world? The teacher's function is to lead the young up to the highest point mankind has reached, not only in the knowledge of grammar and arithmetic, but in the broader things of the mind and heart, most of which lie outside of and beyond the purely mechanical studies. There is surely no need of dwelling upon this matter; everyone who reflects accepts it to-day, and realizes that the development of character in the large sense, the fitting of the man in harmonious relation to his fellows, and to

the physical world about him, is the function of the school, and one who is not thus adjusted himself is surely incapable of helping another to attain adjustment in the best and most economical way.

Then again a teacher must have some insight into, and he must sympathize with, child life. He must see what are the springs of conduct at different epochs in the period of development; he ought to know to what great laws of growth are to be referred the varied phenomena of childhood; and, if he is to discharge his duty efficiently, he should know what experience the race has had in its treatment of the activities of the young in different ways. He ought to know how the wisest men in the world in respect of things educational regard the dictum that the child is an imp of the devil. Is this superstition or is it science? Is the spontaniety of the young to be indulged and guided, or to be repressed? Should we try to make Maggie Tullivers or Lucy Deans of our children? Has the riot and madness of youth a place in development? or are these manifestations of adolescence obnoxious weeds that must be destroyed root and branch? A teacher must possess himself of what the race knows about childhood and youth, and the outcome of various attitudes toward them,-the effects of a repressive, inhibitive environment, or of one that conserves and guides the native impulse of the young, or of one that indulges and takes no part at all in shaping the lives of children.

Then, there is need, of course, for the teacher to understand the best ways of fitting subjects to the minds of his pupils as the engineer fits a bridge to a chasm. There is a best way of doing all things, and this does not ordinarily lie open to the view of the uninitiated. The human mind is too infinitely complex to be read by him who runs. There are subtle laws that are discerned only by long, careful searching. One cannot teach the young idea how to shoot until he understands something about it and the way in which he can hold the beginner to acquire the art most skilfully and economically. Now, in the course of five days, the customary length of a county institute, not much can be done for the teacher along these lines except to inspire her with the desire to achieve full participation in the life of humanity, and point out to her the way in which she may help herself. The function of the institute must be mainly inspirational and advisory; it must awaken ambitions to know both the child and the ideals of the race and indicate how these may be realized.

Recently I listened to a distinguished lecturer as he awakened in an institute an interest in George Eliot's writings. He did his work with a skillful hand, and left everyone longing to know more about those great books which arouse in the reader the best emotions-those which make one more loyal and true and helpful to his neighbor. And these aroused in the soul of the teacher become reflected in the soul of the child.

EDWIN D. MEAD, of New England Magazine: The public school is more impotant than all else as an engine of democracy. Education is simply another way of spelling democrary.

Observations on the San Francisco Schools.

BY FRANK J. BROWNE.

PART I.

THE TEACHERS.

To know a school, one must know the teacher. I have tried to learn about the teachers and from the teachers of the San Francisco School Department. I have met principals at whose feet I would gladly sit to gain that wisdom which comes only from strength of character and years of experience. I have met grade teachers whose work is equal to the best. I have met a few teachers, too, who do not measure up to the best standards and who do not appear to be moved by the highest ideals. On the whole, the teaching body is as good as in other cities of which I have knowledge, and it is surely improving. Teachers are elected practically for life, as no dismissal is possible without cause, after notice and trial. What effect has the system upon the schools? In other words, why should I desire an election to a position in the San Francisco schools?

First, I think a sense of gratitude would lead to better service. A conscientious teacher would do her best in my position, but one's best without security is not so good as one's best without worry and uncertainty.

Second, my work would tend to become more efficient because there would be no waste of energy upon matters personal or political for "influence " to secure reëlection.

Third, I would be inclined to establish a permanent home, and to make teaching my life work. It would tend to become more professional. Possibly it is more difficult to get rid of a poor teacher under the life tenure plan, but I find that teachers are earnestly trying to do their best work, to avoid criticism and the notoriety which is entailed upon official investigation. A San Francisco teacher is none the less earnest, is in the best poise of mind, is not diverted by side issues into making the schoolroom a 'steppingstone" into other lines of success.

TEACHERS' MUTUAL AID SOCIETY.

As long ago as 1873 was organized this society, for the purpose of giving pecuniary aid to members when sick and unable to attend to their duties. Each member is required to pay a monthly due of fifty cents, and, in case of inabilities, shall draw the sum of ten dollars weekly, until the sum of three hundred dollars shall have been paid. The sum of seventy-five dollars for funeral expenses is allowed upon the death of a member in good standing. The society regularly incorporatod in 1889, has a membership of several hundred, and is constantly paying out benefits to eligible members. Though many teachers of the city are beyond the need of such assistance, they cheerfully pay their dues and keep alive the organization solely from a desire to help others. It speaks much for the fraternal spirit of the teaching body. I know of no similar organization elsewhere on the Pacific Coast.

TEACHERS' ANNUITY AND RETIREMENT LAW.

About the year 1891 several teachers of San Francisco formed an organization to secure legislation in behalf of a teachers' annuity plan, modelled in great measure after the laws then existing in several eastern cities. This informal organization charged its members a nominal monthly due of ten cents, and with this fund sent a committee to Sacramento to press the interests of their plans. The first fruit of their efforts was the Teachers' Annuity Act of 1895, which has been amended by the legislatures of 1897 and 1901.

This act provides that the mayor, superintendent of common schools, and city treasurer shall constitute a commission to have charge of and expend the annuity fund. The

funds are derived (1) from a contribution of twelve dollars annually by each day teacher; (2) from a contribution of six dollars annually by each evening teacher; (3) from gifts, benefits, etc.; (4) from money forfeited by teachers on account of absence from duty. Contribution is voluntary on the part of teachers in service when the act was passed, but obligatory on all teachers subsequently elected. All teachers who have taught for thirty years, and have paid in the assessments for thirty years, may voluntarily retire, and receive $50 a month (evening teachers $25), if funds are sufficient. The income at present is about $1,000 a month, and those already retired are each drawing about $33 a month.

TEACHERS' ANNUITY AND RETIREMENT ASSOCIATION.

The members of the original organization formed to secure legislation were so encouraged by their success that they resolved to continue the organization to supplement the fund provided by the law. They therefore incorporated in 1900 and from dues and receipts from May Day benefit pienies the Annuity Association has on hand over $17,000, the interest on which is applied to increase the monthly benefits of the annuitants.

A PRIMARY SCHOOL.

I called upon the principal of one of the oldest schools of the city. To meet him is helpful. He is a good type of the kind, generous, firm, well-poised gentleman. He is surely a source of cheer and sound advice to his teachers.

"What can I do for you ?"

see."

"Perhaps you can direct me to a primary school that you are pleased to have visitors

“Certainly,—come with me.”

And he introduced me to a primary teacher, who spoke kindly, asked me to be seated. and went about her work as though the school was primarily for the children, and visitors were considered of secondary importance. The room at first seemed quite noisy, and the general attitude of the pupils for a moment indicated poor discipline. But my attention was fixed upon the wall decoration, and the colored crayon work, and the lesson in drawing for the day, and to my delight I forgot the din of the noisy truck wagons on the cobble stones and the moving to and fro of the pupils and the several postures at the desks; for it became evident that each pupil, like myself, was thinking of the pictures, the drawing, the suggested words and language, and was doing intensive work. They were busy in achieving something, and the teacher, after stimulating their interest in the work for the day, had enough sense to let them put their life into expression without killing spontaneity with formal discipline.

66 Does the noise of the street disturb your work?"

"Yes, sir, somewhat; but the children are engaged upon their work and are not diverted very much by outside disturbance. My discipline consists in keeping my pupils at agreeable work. You see them going at will from seats to blackboard, because they have work which requires it. While they are carrying out their plans it would often interfere with them-seriously bother them -to face them with petty rules about position, leaving seats, etc."

"They are taught to take them as a matter of course, and they soon are able to retain their poise before strangers as when at home."

"They read with natural expression. What book do you begin with?"

"I use no book at first. We make the lessons in class. I find what the class are interested in and what they already know about, and develop a lesson from their own life as much as possible."

And I left the room feeling that I had met a teacher who was greater than the book, the building, and all other factors in a child's education. The room was well-equipped, the board was ornamented by suggestive drawings and the walls were hung with pictures; but the noblest and most inspiring object in the room was the apparently uninteresting and austere schoolma'am, transformed during my half-hour's stay into a good-looking and devoted lover of little children.