B. EDUCATIONAL ISSUES IN SCHOOL AND COLLEGE
The status and recruitment of teachers
1. The ideal teacher
William A. Alcott, A Word to Teachers; or, Two Days in a Primary School (Boston, 1833),pp. 30-32.
Alcott (1798-1859), cousin of Bronson Alcott, was a teacher, reformer of popular education, and prolific author of works on education and health. The school he visited and here described was the First Public School in Hartford, Connecticut.
When the school bell commenced ringing for noon, the teacher had just begun to gratify a request from some of her pupils that she would read stories to them from the Juvenile Rambler. She was reading the adventures of Thomas Traveller; I think his journey from New York to Gibraltar. There was such a profound silence in the room, that you might have heard a pin fall. When the bell begun to ring she asked the pupils if she should not stop. "No; No;" they all said; "we wish you would go on with the story." "But do you not wish to go home to dinner?" said the teacher. "Yes, ma'am;" they replied: "But we want to hear the story first."
This reminds me of what I have been assured by a lady in the vicinity; that her little daughter, who attends here, seems to be happy nowhere else but with her teacher, and of a report which I have heard of another of the pupils, who is said in some instances to have solicited her parents to let her go to school without her breakfast. Indeed, I have actually known one school where the teacher made every thing so agreeable that the pupils used to run away from home without their meals; so much more fond were they of the school room than of any other place. Indeed I have no more confidence in the notion that some children naturally hate books and school, than I should have in the opinion that some, by nature, hate food. It is a disgust which is acquired; and no wonder.
Although the pupils were anxious to hear the whole of what the "traveller" had to say, the teacher did not think it proper to gratify them, but left off about the middle of the story, and prepared to dismiss them.
As the intermission is usually two hours in length, and as a large proportion of the scholars have but a little way to walk, they usually go to their homes as soon as they are dismissed, especially if the weather is not uncommonly severe or stormy ... To those who go home great attention is paid by both the teacher to see that their clothing is properly put on, and to be sure that they leave nothing which they intended to take along with them. In short, the teachers take, so far as possible, the place of parents; and not merely instruct, but educate, — and make happy.
2. A deputy superintendent of schools in a rural area of New York observes and ranks the teachers of his county, 1843
Report of A. Burgess, deputy superintendent for Allegheny county, in New York State, Department of Public Instruction, Annual Report of the Superintendent of Common Schools . . . 1843 (Albany, 1843), pp.77-80.
I have found them from first rate down to the lowest grade, whose services do more hurt than good, who communicate more error than truth, and who would establish more bad habits in the practice of scholars in a single term of four months than a thorough and competent instructor would break up in eight. I have found ladies and gentlemen engaged in the responsible business of directing the youthful mind in our common schools, whose only ambition seemed to be to shine in their profession, and benefit their juvenile charge all in their power; who would scorn alike the sneers of those engaged in private schools, and the contempt of those who consider the district school fit only for the instruction of the very lowest grade of community, whose breath is contagion, and whose touch is immediate moral death. The class of teachers to which I now refer, have established themselves in the estimation of the friends of popular education, by a course of well doing, and a strict attention to all the means within their reach intended to elevate the condition and character of district schools. They are systematic and thorough in every department of their labors... I believe that about one-sixth of all the teachers whose schools I have visited will rank in the first class, and their labors and persevering efforts do honor to the profession.
The next class I shall mention is more numerous than the former, and who appear to enter upon the business of teaching with high expectations and flattering prospects. For a time they go on with all that ardor and ambition peculiar to the character of the young, infusing all the energy of soul they possess into the feelings of their scholars, and drawing into requisition every power within their reach for the attainment of their high object. After pursuing this course for a time, they grow tired of the labor it imposes, and begin to relax in their exertions to do all in their power to elevate the standard of district schools; they begin to descend from the elevation they have gained, lose their influence over their pupils, their respect and subordination; their systematic course is in some measure abandoned; they have not that decision of purpose with which they set out; they become peevish and fretful, easily thrown out of a train of good humor, and are exposed to the mercy of their scholars, who, when they perceive they can make them appear ridiculous, will seek every pretext to harrass and irritate their feelings. This class, I am sorry to say, are much more numerous than the one before mentioned, and can be denominated no higher than second rate teachers.
A third class arc those who enter upon the business of teaching for the purpose of raising a sum of money in a given time, which they could not do in any other business in which they could find employment. They enter not upon the discharge of these vast responsibilities because they love to teach, or because they have any desire to see the rising generation growing up with that knowledge so necessary to fit them for the transaction of business, and for usefulness in the community in which they may be placed, but for the pecuniary benefit derived from the employment. They have no desire so to manage their schools as to gain employment in that district again, for they wish to form new acquaintances, and therefore prefer to stay but one term in a place. It matters not with them whether they communicate ideas to those placed under their charge or not; whether their pupils have an understanding of what they are required to commit to memory, or whether they repeat their lessons parrot-like, without knowing what they mean . . .
Another, and the last class of teachers I will mention, are those who, to gain a notoriety, which is beyond their reach by any other means, thrust themselves upon the notice of the public to be employed in giving a proper turn to the youthful mind. They are such as have no definite ideas of the business they are about to engage in, or of those things they are required to teach. They enter their schools without seeing any thing clearly. Their minds are confused, and they know not what to do, how to act, or what to expect. They know not where to begin, or how to proceed after having begun. If called upon to explain the principle upon which any rule in arithmetic is founded, they are utterly at a loss to know what is meant by the question. It has never once entered their heads that the rules of arithmetic are founded upon any principles whatever. In the examination of a teacher, whose school I visited last winter, I asked him why he carried one for every ten in addition of whole numbers. "Because figures decrease from the right hand to the left in a tenfold proportion." "But, sir, you cannot mean 'decrease' can you?" Sartin, I mean decrease, and that is what the rule says; for I have larnt it by heart." He could recite as he had learned them the tables of weights and measures in arithmetic; but could not answer one question in ten when asked promiscuously. I desired him to tell me what part of speech is "wise" in the following example: "Into the will and arbitration wise of the Supreme." After looking at it for some time with a vacant stare, he replied, "I don't git hold of the meanin of the author in that place, and don't know what part of speech wise is. I never studied grammar only about tu weeks, and I don't pretend to understand it perfectly; but I reckoned how I understood it well enough to keep the school in this deestrick." I asked him to spell potato, and tell me which syllable had the full or primary accent? He spelled the word, and said "the full accent is on the last syllable." I then pronounced the word with the accent agreeably to his notion, and asked him if it was right? He thought not. He then said "it is the first;" but after making a practical application of accent to the first syllable, he perceived he was mistaken, and said "it is the second." I asked him which is the most northeastern State? He did "not know sartin, but he bleaved it was Ohio or Indiana." He was a most wretched reader and worse speller . . . This is an extreme case of the class of teachers I am now describing. How do many of them manage the affairs of their schools? After spending, perhaps, fifteen or twenty minutes in trying to produce silence in the school, a class is called upon to read. "Toe that crack," says the teacher to the children who are called upon to read. But instead of "toeing the crack," some face to the north, some to the south, some to the east, and some to the west. "Now stand up straight and speak up loud and distinct." The teacher, or rather the apology for one, takes a book to see if any mistakes are made by any in the class. Whilst the one at the head is reading, a boy presents his writing book for a copy. He at once lays aside the reading book and begins to write the copy. Whilst doing this, another bawls out, "will you mend my pen." Willing to accommodate all, he leaves the copy and takes the pen; and before he finishes that, another "wants a sum done;" another, "can't find a name on the map." All these calls are attended to forthwith by the teacher, and all of them left unfinished, to attend to something else. Thus, perhaps, from twenty to forty minutes have been spent, the class has become tired of reading, and some one calls out, "haint we read fur enough;" "I don't know," says the teacher, "how fur have you read?" "Six chapters;" "Wal, you have read fur enough, you needent read no furder, go long to your seats and set still, and tend to your studies."
3. The Massachusetts Board of Education recommends the establishment of state normal schools, 1838
"First Annual Report of the Board of Education, 1838," in Mary P. Mann, Life and Works of Horace Mann (Boston, 1891), II, 376-378.
Improvement and specialization in teacher training were major concerns of common school reformers. A gift of $10,000 from Edmund Dwight in 1838, matched by the legislature with public funds, enabled the Commonwealth to found three normal schools. The first opened at Lexington the following year.
The subject of the education of teachers has been more than once brought before the Legislature, and is of the very highest importance in connection with the improvement of our schools. That there are all degrees of skill and success on the part of teachers, is matter of too familiar observation to need repetition; and that these must depend, in no small degree, on the experience of the teacher, and in his formation under a good discipline and method of instruction in early life, may be admitted without derogating, in any measure, from the importance of natural gifts and aptitude, in fitting men for this as for the other duties of society. Nor can it be deemed unsafe to insist that, while occupations requiring a very humble degree of intellectual effort and attainment demand a long-continued training, it cannot be that the arduous and manifold duties of the instructor of youth should be as well performed without as with a specific preparation for them. In fact, it must be admitted, as the voice of reason and experience, that institutions for the formation of teachers must be established among us, before the all-important work of forming the minds of our children can be performed in the best possible manner, and with the greatest attainable success.
No one who has been the witness of the ease and effect with which instruction is imparted by one teacher, and the tedious pains-taking and unsatisfactory progress which mark the labors of another of equal ability and knowledge, and operating on materials equally good, can entertain a doubt that there is a mastery in teaching as in every other art. Nor is it less obvious that, within reasonable limits, this skill and this mastery may themselves be made the subjects of instruction, and be communicated to others.
We are not left to the deductions of reason on this subject. In those foreign countries, where the greatest attention has been paid to the work of education, schools for teachers have formed an important feature in their systems, and with the happiest result. The art of imparting instruction has been found, like every other art, to improve by cultivation in institutions established for that specific object. New importance has been attached to the calling of the instructor by public opinion, from the circumstance that his vocation has been deemed one requiring systematic preparation and culture. Whatever tends to degrade the profession of the teacher, in his own mind or that of the public, of course impairs his usefulness; and this result must follow from regarding instruction as a business which in itself requires no previous training.
The duties which devolve upon the teachers even of our Common Schools, particularly when attended by large numbers of both sexes, and of advanced years for learners (as is often the case), arc various, and difficult of performance. For their faithful execution, no degree of talent and qualification is too great; and when we reflect that in the nature of things only a moderate portion of both can, in ordinary cases, be expected, for the slender compensation afforded the teacher, we gain a new view of the necessity of bringing to his duties the advantage of previous training in the best mode of discharging them.
A very considerable part of the benefit, which those who attend our schools might derive from them, is unquestionably lost for want of mere skill in the business of instruction, on the part of the teacher. This falls with especial hardship on that part of our youthful population, who are able to enjoy, but for a small portion of the year, the advantage of the schools. For them it is of peculiar importance, that, from the moment of entering the school, every hour should be employed to the greatest advantage, and every facility in imparting knowledge, and every means of awakening and guiding the mind, be put into instant operation: and where this is done, two months of schooling would be as valuable as a year passed under a teacher destitute of experience and skill. The Board cannot but express the sanguine hope, that the time is not far distant, when the resources of public or private liberality will be applied in Massachusetts for the foundation of an institution for the formation of teachers, in which the present existing defect will be amply supplied.
4. The damaging effects of frequent replacement of teachers in Connecticut, 1839
Connecticut, First Annual Report of the Board of Commissioners of Common Schools in Connecticut, together with the First Annual Report of the Secretary of the Board, May 1839 (Hartford, 1839),pp.37-38.
Henry Barnard (1811-1900), the author of this report, was a leader in common school reform who held many offices and published numerous volumes during a long career. His critical remarks on Connecticut's schools are especially significant owing to the state's deserved reputation for a superior system.
Most of the teachers employed the past winter, have not taught the same schools two successive seasons. Out of 1292 teachers returned, but 341 have taught the same school before. Omitting those who are engaged for the whole year, as permanent teachers, the number is less than 240. And these were not engaged in the summer, but only for the winter. In this single fact is found an explanation of many of the acknowledged defects in our schools.
In the first place, nearly one month of the school is practically lost in the time consumed by the teacher in getting acquainted with the temper, wants, dispositions, and previous progress of his various pupils, with a view to their proper classification, and to the adaptation of his own peculiar modes of government and instruction. By the time the school is in good progress, the scholars begin to drop away, the school money is exhausted, and the school dismissed. After a vacation of unnecessary length, as far as the recreation and relief of the children are concerned, the summer school commences with reduced numbers, under a less vigilant supervision, with a poorly compensated teacher, to go through the same course as before; and so on from year to year. The loss of time consequent on the change of teachers, and the long intermission between the two seasons of schooling, not only retards the progress of the school, but leads to the breaking up of regular habits of study, which will be felt in the whole future life.
In the second place, it leads to the perpetual and expensive change of school books, so much complained of, and so justly complained of, by parents. Every teacher has his favorite text books, and is naturally desirous of introducing them wherever he goes. And as there is no system adopted in relation to this subject in any society, he usually succeeds in introducing more or less of them into every school. The money now expended in the purchase of new books, caused by the change of teachers, would go far to continue the same teacher another month in the same school. Thus the district might practically gain, without any additional expense, two months schooling each year by employing the same teacher year after year. In the third place, this practice excludes from our common schools nearly all those who have decided to make teaching a profession and drives them, almost as a matter of course, into private schools or academies. Out of the 1292 teachers employed, only 100 have been engaged in teaching for more than 10 years; and of this number a large proportion have only taught in the winter.
5. The superiority of women as teachers
Catherine E. Beecher, The Evils Suffered by American Women and American Children: The Causes and the Remedy (New York, 1846), pp.9-10.
The replacement of men by women in the classroom was advocated by most of the common school reformers. Catherine E. Beecher (1800-1878), daughter of the famed preacher Reverend Lyman Beecher, was a leading spokesman for women's rights and interests, especially in education.
Now, without expressing any opinion as to the influence, on health and morals, of taking women away from domestic habits and pursuits, to labor with men in shops and mills, I simply ask if it would not be better to put the thousands of men who are keeping school for young children into the mills, and employ the women to train the children?
Wherever education is most prosperous, there woman is employed more than man. In Massachusetts, where education is highest, five out of seven of the teachers are women; while in Kentucky, where education is so much lower, five out of six of the teachers are men.
Another cause of depression to our sex is found in the fact that there is no profession for women of education and high position, which, like law, medicine, and theology, opens the way to competence, influence, and honor, and presents motives for exertion. Woman ought never to be led to married life except under the promptings of pure affection. To marry for an establishment, for a position, or for something to do, is a deplorable wrong. But how many women, for want of a high and honorable profession to engage their time, are led to this melancholy course. This is not so because Providence has not provided an ample place for such a profession for woman, but because custom or prejudice, or a low estimate of its honorable character, prevents her from entering it. The education of children, that is the true and noble profession of a woman —that is what is worthy the noblest powers and affections of the noblest minds.
Another cause which deeply affects the best interests of our sex is the contempt, or utter neglect and indifference, which has befallen this only noble profession open to woman. There is no employment, however disagreeable or however wicked, which custom and fashion cannot render elegant, interesting, and enthusiastically sought. A striking proof of this is seen in the military profession. This is the profession of killing our fellow-creatures, and is attended with everything low, brutal, unchristian, and disgusting; and yet what halos of glory have been hung around it, and how the young, and generous, and enthusiastic have been drawn into it! If one-half the poetry, fiction, oratory, and taste thus misemployed had been used to embellish and elevate the employment of training the mind of childhood, in what an altered position should we find this noblest of all professions!
As it is, the employment of teaching children is regarded as the most wearying drudgery, and few resort to it except from necessity; and one very reasonable cause of this aversion is the utter neglect of any arrangements for preparing teachers for this arduous and difficult profession. The mind of a young child is like a curious instrument, capable of exquisite harmony when touched by a skillful hand, but sending forth only annoying harshness when unskillfully addressed. To a teacher is committed a collection of these delicate contrivances; and, without experience, without instruction, it is required not only that each one should be tuned aright, but that all be combined in excellent harmony: as if a young girl were sent into a splendid orchestra, all ignorant and unskillful, and required to draw melody from each instrument, and then to combine the whole in faultless harmony. And in each case there are, here and there, individual minds, who, without instruction, are gifted by nature with aptness and skill in managing the music either of matter or of mind; but that does not lessen the folly, in either case, of expecting the whole profession, either of music or of teaching, to be pursued without preparatory training.
6. Teachers should become professionals
David P. Page, Theory and Practice of Teaching (Syracuse, 1847), pp. 270-287.
Page, a leading writer on educational subjects, was principal of the State Normal School at Albany, New York.
It has long been the opinion of the best minds . . . that teaching should be a profession. It has been alleged, and with much justice, that this calling, which demands for its successful exercise the best of talents, the most persevering energy, and the largest share of self-denial, has never attained an appreciation in the public mind at all commensurate with its importance. It has by no means received the emolument, either of money or honor, which strict justice would award in any other department to the talents and exertions required for this. This having been so long the conditions of things, much of the best talent has been attracted at once to the other professions; or if exercised awhile in this, the temptation of more lucrative reward, or of more speedy, if not more lasting honor, has soon diverted it from teaching, where so little of either can be realized, to engage in some other department of higher promise. So true is this, that scarcely a man can be found, having attained to any considerable eminence as a teacher, who was not several times solicited —and perhaps strongly tempted — to engage in some more lucrative employment; and while there have always been some strong men, who have preferred teaching to any other calling, — men who would do honor to any profession, and who, while exercising this, have found that highest of all rewards, the consciousness of being useful to others, — still it must be confessed that teachers have too often been of just that class which a knowledge of the circumstances might lead us to predict would engage in teaching; men of capacity too limited for the other professions, of a temperament too sluggish to engage in the labors of active employment, of manners too rude to be tolerated except in the society of children (!), and sometimes of a morality so pernicious as to make them the unfailing contaminators of the young whenever permitted — not to teach —but to "keep school." Thus two great evils have been mutually strengthening each other. The indifference of the employers to the importance of good teachers, and their parsimony in meting out the rewards of teaching, have called into the field large numbers, in the strictest sense, unworthy of all reward; while this very unworthiness of the teachers has been made the excuse for further indifference, and if possible for greater meanness on the part of employers. Such has been the state of the case for many years past, and such is, to a great extent, the fact at present.
It has been the ardent wish of many philanthropists that this deplorable state of affairs should be exchanged for a better. Hence they have urged that teaching should be constituted a profession; that none should enter this profession but those who are thoroughly qualified to discharge the high trust; and, as a consequence, that the people should more liberally reward and honor those who are thus qualified and employed. This would indeed be a very desirable change; it would be the educational millennium of the world. For such a period we all may well devoutly pray.
Section I. — Self-Culture.
The teacher should labor diligently to improve himself. This is a duty incumbent on all persons, but particularly upon the teacher. The very nature of his employment demands that his mind should be frequently replenished from the storehouses of knowledge.
1. He should have a course of professional reading. It will do much for his improvement to read the works of those who have written on the subject of education and the art of teaching. If possible he should collect and possess a small educational library . . .
2. By pursuing systematically a course of general study. Many teachers who have a desire to improve themselves, still fritter away their time upon little miscellaneous matters, without making real progress. It is well in this to have a plan. Let some one study, — it may be geology, or astronomy, or chemistry, or botany, or the pure mathematics, — let some one study receive constant attention till no mean attainments have been made in it ...
3. Keep a journal or common-place book. The habit of composing daily is very valuable to the teacher. In this book he may record whatever plans he has devised with their results in practice. He may enter remarkable cases of discipline, — in short, any thing which in the course of his practice he finds interesting. Those valuable suggestions which he receives from others, or hints that he may derive from books, may be epitomized here, and thus be treasured up for future reference.
But there are other and direct duties which he owes to his profession, which I proceed to consider under the head of
Section II.—Mutual Aid.
Every teacher should be willing to impart as well as to receive good. No one, whatever may be his personal exertions, can monopolize all the wisdom of the world.
How can teachers encourage each other?
1. By mutual visitation. Very much may be done by social intercourse. Two teachers can scarcely converse together an hour without benefiting each other . . .
But not only should teachers visit one another, — it is profitable also for them to visit each other's schools. I have never spent an hour in the school of another without gaining some instruction. Sometimes a new way of illustrating a difficult point, sometimes an exhibition of tact in managing a difficult case in discipline, sometimes an improved method of keeping up the interest in a class, would suggest the means of making my own labors the more successful. And even should one's neighbor be a bad teacher, one may sometimes learn as much from witnessing glaring defects as great excellencies. Some of the most profitable lessons I have ever received, have been drawn from the deficiencies of a fellow teacher.
2. By the use of the pen.. Every teacher should be a ready writer. Nearly every teacher could gain access to the columns of some paper, through which he could impart the results of his experience, or of his reflection. Such a course would benefit him specially, and at the same time it would awaken other minds to thought and action. In this way the attention, not only of teachers but parents, would be called to the great work of education .
3. By Teachers' Associations or Institutes. These are peculiarly adapted to the diffusion of the best plans of instruction. Rightly conducted, they can never fail of being useful . . .
As far as possible, such meetings should be made strictly practical. The older teachers, who usually have the most to do with the management of them, should bear in mind that they are mainly designed to diffuse practical ideas of teaching, particularly among the younger members. Too often, these meetings are made the arena of debate upon questions of very little practical importance to the teacher . . .
Another, and no inconsiderable advantage of such associations, is, that the teacher gains encouragement and strength, by being thus brought in contact with others engaged in the same pursuit. Toiling on alone, in his isolated district, surrounded by obstacles and discouragements, weighed down by care, and finding none to sympathize with him, he is almost ready to faint in his course, and perhaps to abandon his calling. At this crisis, he reads the notice for the teachers' meeting, and he resolves to go up once more to the gathering of his friends. From the various parts of the county, from the populous and crowded city, and from the byways of the country-towns, a goodly number collect together and greet each other. Smile answers to smile, the blood courses more freely through the veins, the spirits, long depressed perhaps, partake of the general glow, and each feels that he is not toiling alone. He feels that a noble brotherhood of kindred spirits are laboring in the same field, under trials and discouragements similar to those which have oppressed him. He derives new strength from the sympathy of friends.
A professional feeling is engendered, which will accompany him to his schoolroom; and when he goes home, it is with renewed vigor and fresh aspirings to be a better man, and a better teacher. He labors with more confidence in himself; and, enlightened by what he has seen and heard, he is far more successful than before. His pupils, too, respond to the new life they see enkindling in him, and go to their work more cheerfully. One difficulty after another vanishes, and he begins to think teaching, after all, is not the worst employment in the world . . .
7. A challenge to the authority of a teacher in a frontier school
Edward Eggleston, The Hoosier Schoolmaster (New York, 1871), pp. 109-114.
Eggleston (1837-1902), historian and man of letters, drew upon recollections of schooldays in his native Indiana for this classic fictional account of a frontier schoolmaster.
The school closed on Monday evening as usual. The boys had been talking in knots all day. Nothing but the bull-dog in the slender, resolute young master had kept down the rising storm. Let a teacher lose moral support at home, and he can not long govern a school. Ralph had effectually lost his popularity in the district, and the worst of it was that he could not divine from just what quarter the ill wind came, except that he felt sure of Small's agency in it somewhere. Even Hannah had slighted him, when he called at Mean's on Monday morning to draw the pittance of pay that was due him.
He had expected a petition for a holiday on Christmas day. Such holidays are deducted from the teacher's time, and it is customary for the boys to "turn out" the teacher who refuses to grant them, by barring him out of the school-house on Christmas and New Year's morning. Ralph had intended to grant a holiday if it should be asked, but it was not asked. Hank Banta was the ringleader in the disaffection, and he had managed to draw the surly Bud, who was present this morning, into it. It is but fair to say that Bud was in favor of making a request before resorting to extreme measures, but he was overruled. He gave it as his solemn opinion that the master was mighty peart, and they would be beat any how some way, but he would lick the master fer two cents ef he warn't so slim that he'd feel like he was fighting a baby.
And all that day things looked black. Ralph's countenance was cold and hard as stone, and Shocky trembled where he sat in front of him. Betsey Short tittered rather more than usual. A riot or a murder would have seemed amusing to her.
School was dismissed, and Ralph, instead of returning to the Squire's, set out for the village of Clifty a few miles away. No one knew what he went for, and some suggested that he had "sloped." But Bud said "he warn't that air kind. He was one of them air sort as died in ther tracks, was Mr. Hartsook. They'd find him on the ground nex' morning, and he 'lowed the master war made of that air sort of stuff as would burn the dog-on'd ole school-house to ashes, or blow it into splinters, but what he'd beat. Howsumdever he'd said he was a-goin' to help, and help he would; but all the sinnoo in Golier wouldn' be no account again the cute they was in the head of the master."
But Bud, discouraged as he was with the fear of Ralph's "cute," went like a martyr to the stake and took his place with the rest in the school-house at nine o'clock at night. It may have been Ralph's intention to have preoccupied the school-house, for at ten o'clock Hank Banta was set shaking from head to foot at seeing a face that looked like the master's at the window. He waked up Bud and told him about it.
"Well, what are you a-tremblin' about, you coward?" growled Bud. "He won't shoot you; but he'll beat you at this game, I'll bet a hoss, and me, too, and make us both as 'shamed of ourselves as dogs with tin-kittles to their tails. You don't know the master, though he did duck you. But he'll larn you a good lesson this time, and me too, like as not." And Bud soon snored again, but Hank shook with fear every time he looked at the blackness outside the windows. He was sure he heard foot-falls. He would have given anything to have been at home.
When morning came, the pupils began to gather early. A few boys who were likely to prove of service in the coming siege were admitted through the window, and then everything was made fast, and a "snack" was eaten.
"How do you 'low he'll git in?" said Hank, trying to hide his fear.
"How do I 'low?" said Bud. "I don't 'low nothin' about it. You might as well ax me where I 'low nex' shootin' star is a-goin' to drap. Mr. Hartsook's mighty onsartin. But he'll git in, though, and tan your hide fer you, you see ef he don't. Ef he don't blow up the school-house with gunpowder!" This last was thrown in by way of alleviating the fears of the cowardly Hank, for whom Bud had a great contempt.
The time for school had almost come. The boys inside were demoralized by waiting. They began to hope that the master had "sloped." They dreaded to see him coming.
"I don't believe he'll come," said Hank, with a cold shiver. "It's past school-time."
"Yes, he will come, too," said Bud. "And he 'lows to come in here mighty quick. I don't know how. But he'll be a-standin' at that air desk when it's nine o'clock. I'll bet a thousand dollars on that. Ef he don't take it into his head to blow us up!" Hank was now white.
Some of the parents came along, accidentally of course, and stopped to see the fun, sure that Bud would thrash the master if he tried to break in. Small, on the way to see a patient perhaps, reined up in front of the door. Still no Ralph. It was just five minutes before nine. A rumor now gained currency that he had been seen going to Clifty the evening before, and that he had not come back, though in fact Ralph had come back, and had slept at Squire Hawkin's.
"There's the master," cried Betsey Short, who stood out in the road, shivering and giggling alternately. For Ralph at that moment emerged from the sugar-camp by the school-house, carrying a board.
"Ho! ho!" laughed Hank, "he thinks he'll smoke us out. I guess he'll find us ready." The boys had let the fire burn down, and there was now nothing but hot hickory coals on the hearth.
"I tell you he'll come in. He didn't go to Clifty fer nothin'," said Bud, who sat still on one of the benches which leaned against the door. "I don't know how, but they's lots of ways of killing a cat besides chokin' her with butter. He'll come in—ef he don't blow us all sky-high!"
Ralph's voice was now heard, demanding that the door be opened.
"Let's open her," said Hank, turning livid with fear at the firm, confident tone of the master.
Bud straightened himself up. "Hank, you're a coward. I've got a mind to kick you. You got me into this blamed mess, and now you want to flunk. You jest tech one of these ere fastenings, and I'll lay you out flat of your back afore you can say Jack Robinson."
The teacher was climbing to the roof with the board in hand.
"That air won't win," laughed Pete Jones outside. He saw that there was no smoke. Even Bud began to hope that Ralph would fail for once. The master was now on the ridge-pole of the school-house. He took a paper from his pocket, and deliberately poured the contents down the chimney.
Mr. Pete Jones shouted "Gunpowder!" and started down the road to be out of the way of the explosion. Dr. Small remembered, probably, that his patient might die while he sat there, and started on.
But Ralph emptied the paper, and laid the board over the chimney. What a row there was inside! The benches that were braced against the door were thrown down, and Hank Banta rushed out, rubbing his eyes, coughing frantically, and sure that he had been blown up. All the rest followed, Bud bringing up the rear sulkily, but coughing and sneezing for dear life. Such a smell of sulphur as came from that school-house!
Betsey had to lean against the fence to giggle.
As soon as all were out, Ralph threw the board off the chimney, leaped to the ground, entered the school-house, and opened the windows. The school soon followed him, and all was still.
''Would he thrash?" This was the important question in Hank Banta's mind. And the rest looked for a battle with Bud.
"It is just nine o'clock," said Ralph, consulting his watch, "and I'm glad to see you all here promptly. I should have given you a holiday if you had asked me like gentlemen yesterday. On the whole, I think I shall give you a holiday any how. The school is dismissed."
And Hank felt foolish.
And Bud secretly resolved to thrash Hank or the master, he didn't care which.
And Mirandy looked the love she could not utter.
And Betsey giggled.
The moral and social values taught in the schools
1. Lessons about goodness, honesty, and obedience as related in stories for young readers
William H. McGuffey, McGuffey's Eclectic First Reader (Cincinnati, 1853), pp. 30-31 80-81,94-96, 100-104.
McGuffey (1800-1873), a college professor in Ohio and Virginia, was the most famous American author of textbooks. Sales of his numerous spellers and readers exceeded 122,000,000 copies.
The Poor Old Man.
Jane, there is a poor old man at the door.
He asks for some-thing to eat. We will give him some bread and cheese.
He is cold. Will you give him some clothes too?
I will give him a suit of old clothes, which will be new to him.
Poor man! I wish he had a warm house to live in, and kind friends to live with him; then he would not have to beg from door to door.
We should be kind to the poor. We may be as poor as this old man, and need as much as he.
Shall I give him some cents to buy a pair of shoes?
No; you may give him a pair of shoes.
It is hard for the poor to have to beg from house to house.
Poor boys and girls some-times have to sleep out of doors all night. When it snows, they are ver-y cold, and when it rains, they get quite wet.
Who is it that gives us food to eat, and clothes to make us warm?
It is God, my child; he makes the sun to shine, and sends the rain up-on the earth, that we may have food.
God makes the wool grow up-on the lit-tle lambs, that we may have clothes to keep us warm.
Pe-ter Holt.
Pe-ter Holt was left at home one day by his par-ents, when they went out to take a ride.
His moth-er told him to stay in the house un-til she came back. "Be ver-y sure that you do not go out a-mong the hors-es," said she, "they may hurt you."
Pe-ter said he would do as he was bid. So his moth-er kiss-ed him and start-ed. He was soon ver-y tir-ed of stay-ing in the house; so he went to the door, and soon aft-er ran down in-to the lot, to look at a lit-tle colt, which his fa-ther had giv-en him.
It was ver-y tame, so he put his hand on its neck, and then on its head. At last he thought it was so tame and gen-tle that he would ride it. He led it to the fence and jump-ed on its back.
The colt had nev-er be-fore felt a-ny thing on his back, and was ver-y much a-larm-ed. It put down its head and ran off at a great rate, and, at last, kick-ed up its hind feet, and threw Pe-ter over its head.
Pe-ter was ver-y much hurt, but he crept home as well as he could. If he had been so bad-ly hurt as not to be a-ble to get home, he might have died in the field be-fore his moth-er came home.
Lit-tle chil-dren may learn from this, that they should al-ways o-bey their par-ents. How ma-ny lit-tle girls and boys have been hurt, because they did not do as they were bid!
I once knew of a lit-tle girl who was told not to cross the street be-fore a car-riage. But she would not stop; and when the car-riage came up, it ran di-rect-ly o-ver her.
The Lit-tle Chim-ney Sweep.
Some time a-go, there was a lit-tle chim-ney sweep, who had to sweep a chim-ney in the house of a ver-y rich la-dy. The lit-tle sweep went up at the kitch-en fire place, and came down in the cham-ber.
When he got in-to the cham-ber, he found him-self all a-lone. He stop-ped a mo-ment to look round up-on the rich things he saw there. As he look-ed on the top of the ta-ble, he saw a fine gold watch, with gold seals to it.
He had nev-er seen a-ny thing so beau-ti-ful be-fore, and he took it up in his hands. As he list-en-ed to hear it tick, it be-gan to play sweet mu-sic. He then thought, that if it was on-ly his own, how rich he would be; and then he thought he might hide it in his blank-et.
"Now," said he, "if I take it, I shall be a thief — and yet no bod-y sees me. No bod-y? Does not God see me? Could I ev-er a-gain be good? Could I then ev-er say my pray-ers a-gain to God? And what should I do when I come to die?"
More A-bout the Chim-ney Sweep.
While the lit-tle sweep was think-ing a-bout tak-ing the la-dy's watch, he felt cold all o-ver, and trem-bled with fear.
"No," said he, "I can not take this watch. I would rath-er be a sweep and al-ways be poor, than steal." And down he laid the watch, and crept up the chim-ney.
Now the la-dy who own-ed the watch was just in the next room, and she could look through, and see and hear all that pass-ed. She did not say a-ny thing to the boy then, but let him go a-way.
The next day she sent for him, and when he came, she said to him, "Well, my lit-tle friend, why did you not take my watch yes-ter-day?" The lit-tle sweep then fell up-on his knees and told the la-dy all a-bout it.
Now, as the lit-tle sweep did not steal the gold watch, nor tell a-ny sto-ries a-bout it, the la-dy let him stay and live in her house. For ma-ny years she sent him to school, and when he grew up, he be-came a good man, and nev-er for-got the com-mand-ment which says, "Thou shalt not steal."
Had he ta-ken the la-dy's watch, he would have sto-len. Then he would have been sent to jail.
Let no lit-tle boy or girl ev-er take things with-out leave, for it is steal-ing; and they who steal are thieves.
You can not steal the small-est pin, with-out its be-ing a sin, nor with-out be-ing seen by that eye which never sleeps.
The Bro-ken Win-dow.
George El-let had a fine New Year's gift. What do you think it was? A bright sil-ver dol-lar! A mcr-ry boy was George, when he thought of all the fine things he might buy with it. And as soon as the sun be-gan to make the air feel a 1 it-tie warm, he put on his cap and gloves, and ran in-to the street.
The ground was cov-er-ed with snow, but the sun shone out, and ev-er-y thing look-ed bright. As George went skip-ping a-long, he met some boys who were throw-ing snow-balls. This is fine sport, and George pull-ed off his gloves, and was soon as bu-sy as the rest. See, how he gath-ers up the snow, and press-es it be-tween his hands.
Now he has hit James Ma-son. But the ball was soft, and James is not hurt. Now he has made an-oth-er ball, and if James does not dodge, George will hit him a-gain. A-way goes the ball! But it miss-ed James, and broke a win-dow on the oth-er side of the street. George was a-fraid that some one would come out of the house and whip him; so he ran off, as fast as he could.
As soon as he got round the next cor-ner, he stop-ped, bc-causc he was ver-y sor-ry for what he had done. Just then he saw a man car-ry-ing a box with glass doors, full of pret-ty toys; and as George was on-ly eight years old, he for-got the bro-ken win-dow, and ran aft-er the man.
More A-bout the Bro-ken Win-dow.
As George was a-bout to buy a lit-tle house with doors and chin-i-neys, and put his hand in his pock-ct for the mon-ey, he thought of the bro-ken win-dow. Then he said to him-self, "I have no right to spend this dollar for a toy-house. I ought to go back, and pay for the glass I broke with my snow-ball."
So he gave back the house to the toy-man, and turn-cd round. But he was a-fraid of be-ing scold-ed or beat-en, and did not know what to do. He went up and down the street, and felt ver-y bad-ly. He wish-ed to buy some-thing nice with his mon-ey; and he al-so wish-ed to pay for the glass he had bro-ken.
At last he said to him-self, "It was wrong to break the win-dow, al-though I did not mean to do it. I will go and pay the man for it at once. If it takes all my mon-ey, I will try not to be sor-ry; and I do not think the man will hurt me, if I of-fer to pay for the mis-chief I have done." He then start-ed off, and felt much hap-pi-er for hav-ing made up his mind to do what was right.
He rang the door bell; and when the man came out, George said, "Sir, I threw a snow-ball through your win-dow. But I did not in-tend to do it, and am ver-y sor-ry, and I wish to pay you. Here is the dol-lar my fa-ther gave me as a New Year's gift, this morn-ing."
The man took the dol-lar, and ask-ed George if he had a-ny more mon-ey. George said he had not. "Well," said the man, "this will be e-nough." So aft-er ask-ing George where he liv-ed, and what was his name, he call-ed him an hon-est lad, and shut the door.
More A-bout the Bro-ken Win-dow.
When George had paid the man, he ran a-way, and felt ver-y hap-py, be-cause he had done what he knew to be right. He play-ed ver-y mer-ri-ly all the fore-noon, al-though he had no mon-ey to spend; and went home at din-ner time, with a face as ro-sy, and eyes as bright, as if noth-ing had gone wrong.
At din-ner, Mr. El-let ask-ed George what he had bought with his mon-ey. George ver-y hon-est-ly told him all a-bout the bro-kcn win¨dow, and said he felt ver-y well, with-out a-ny mon-ey to spend. When din-ner was o-ver, Mr. El-let told George to go and look in his hat.
He did so, and found two sil-ver dol-lars. The man, whose win-dow had been bro-ken, had been there, and told George's fa-ther a-bout it. He al-so gave back the dol-lar which George had paid him, and an-oth-er one with it.
A few months aft-er that, the man came and told Mr. El-let that he want-ed a good boy to stay in his store, and would like to have George, as soon as he left school, for he was sure that George was an hon-est boy. George went to live with this man, who was a rich mer-chant. In a few years he be-came the mer-chant's part-ner, and is now rich. George oft-en thinks of the bro-ken win-dow.
2. The nature of philanthropy
William H. McGuffey, McGuffey's Newly Revised Eclectic Reader (Cincinnati 1844),pp. 50-53.
True and False Philanthropy—Anonymous
Mr. Fantom. I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman. Dear me! Sure that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
Mr. F. Sir, I have a plan in my head for relieving the miseries of the whole world. Everything is bad as it now stands. I would alter all the laws, and put an end to all the wars in the world. I would put an end to all punishments; I would not leave a single prisoner on the face of the globe. This is what I call doing things on a grand scale.
Mr. G. A scale with a vengeance! As to releasing the prisoners, however, I do not much like that, as it would be liberating a few rogues at the expense of all honest men; but as to the rest of your plan, if all countries would be so good as to turn Christians, it might be helped on a good deal. There would be still misery enough left indeed; because God intended this world should be earth and not heaven. But, sir, among all your changes, you must destroy human corruption, before you can make the world quite as perfect as you pretend.
Mr. F. Your project would rivet the chains which mine is designed to break.
Mr. G. Sir, I have no projects. Projects are, in general, the offspring of restlessness, vanity, and idleness. I am too busy for projects, too contented for theories, and I hope, have too much honesty and humility for a philosopher. The utmost extent of my ambition at present is, to redress the wrongs of a poor apprentice, who has been cruelly used by his master: indeed, I have another little scheme, which is to prosecute a fellow, who has suffered a poor wretch in the poorhouse, of which he had the care, to perish through neglect, and you must assist me.
Mr. F. Let the town do that. You must not apply to me for the redress of such petty grievances. I own that the wrongs of the Poles and South Americans so fill my mind, as to leave me no time to attend to the petty sorrows of poorhouses, and apprentices. It is provinces, empires, continents, that the benevolence of the philosopher embraces; every one can do a little paltry good to his next neighbor.
Mr. G. Every one can, but I do not sec that every one does. If they would, indeed, your business would be ready done to your hands, and your grand ocean of benevolence would be filled with the drops, which private charity would throw into it. I am glad, however, you are such a friend to the prisoners, because I am just now getting a little subscription, to set free your poor old friend Tom Saunders, a very honest brother mechanic, who first got into debt, and then into jail, through no fault of his own, but merely through the pressure of the times. A number of us have given a trifle every week towards maintaining his young family since he has been in prison; but we think we shall do much more service to Saunders, and indeed in the end, lighten our own expense, by paying down, at once, a little sum, to release him, and put him in the way of maintaining his family again. We have made up all the money except five dollars. I am already promised four, and you have nothing to do but to give me the fifth. And so, for a single dollar, without any of the trouble we have had in arranging the matter, you will, at once, have the pleasure of helping to save a worthy family from starving, of redeeming an old friend from jail, and of putting a little of your boasted benevolence into action. Realize! Mr. Fantom: there is nothing like realizing.
Mr. F. Why, hark ye, Mr. Goodman, do not think I value a dollar; no sir, I despise money; it is trash, it is dirt, and beneath the regard of a wise man. It is one of the unfeeling inventions of artificial society. Sir, I could talk to you half a day on the abuse of riches, and my own contempt of money.
Mr. G. O pray do not give yourself that trouble. It will be a much easier way of proving your sincerity, just to put your hand in your pocket, and give me a dollar without saying a word about it: and then to you, who value time so much, and money so little, it will cut the matter short. But come now, (for I see you will give nothing), I should be mighty glad to know what is the sort of good you do yourselves, since you always object to what is done by others.
Mr. F. Sir, the object of a true philosopher is, to diffuse light and knowledge. I wish to see the whole world enlightened.
Mr. G. Well, Mr. Fantom, you are a wonderful man, to keep up such a stock of benevolence, at so small an expense; to love mankind so dearly, and yet avoid all opportunities of doing them good; to have such a noble zeal for the millions, and to feel so little compassion for the units; — to long to free empires and enlighten kingdoms, and deny instruction to your own village and comfort to your own family. Surely, none but a philosopher could indulge so much philanthropy and so much frugality at the same time. But come, do assist me in a partition I am making in our poorhouse, between the old, whom I want to have better fed, and the young, whom I want to have more worked.
Mr. F. Sir, my mind is so engrossed with the partition of Poland, that I cannot bring it down to an object of such insignificance. I despise the man, whose benevolence is swallowed up in the narrow concerns of his own family, or village, or country.
Mr. G. Well, now I have a notion, that it is as well to do one's own duty, as the duty of another man; and that to do good at home, is as well as to do good abroad. For my part, I had as lief help Tom Saunders to freedom, as a Pole or a South American, though I should be very glad to help them too. But one must begin to love somewhere; and I think it is as natural to love one's own family, and to do good in one's own neighborhood, as to any body else. And if every man in every family, village, and county did the same, why then all the schemes would meet, and the end of one village or town where I was doing good, would be the beginning of another village where somebody else was doing good; so my schemes would jut into my neighbor's; his projects would unite with those of some other local reformer; and all would fit with a sort of dovetail exactness.
Mr. F. Sir, a man of large views will be on the watch for great occasions to prove his benevolence.
Mr. G. Yes, sir; but if they are so distant that he cannot reach them, or so vast that he cannot grasp them, he may let a thousand little, snug, kind, good actions slip through his fingers in the meanwhile: and so, between the great things that he cannot do, and the little ones that he will not do, life passes, and nothing will be done.
3. The lessons of American history
John Bonner, A Child's History of the United States (New York, 1859), II, 319-320.
I have tried to recount how a few straggling bands of poor wanderers, seeking a scanty living on the wild sea-coast of America, have grown to be one of the greatest nations of the earth. It is a beautiful and a wonderful subject to write about, and I wish, for your sake, that I had written the story with more skill.
No other people, since the world began, ever grew out of so small a beginning to so towering a height of power and prosperity in so short a time. If you seek to know why your countrymen have outstripped all the nations of the earth in this respect, the reason is easily found. The founders of this nation were honest, true men. They were sincere in all they said, upright in all their acts. They feared God and obeyed the laws. They wrought constantly and vigorously at the work they had to do, and strove to live at peace with their neighbors. When they were attacked they fought like men, and, defeated or victorious, would not have peace till their point was gained. Above all, they insisted, from the very first, on being free themselves, and securing freedom for you, their children.
If you follow the example they set, and love truth, honor, religion, and freedom as deeply, and, if need be, defend them as stoutly as they did, the time is not far distant when this country will as far excel other countries in power, wealth, numbers, intelligence, and every good thing, as other countries excelled it before Columbus sailed away from Spain to discover the New World.
4. The history of the United States as presented to the children of the Confederacy, 1863
M. B. Moore, Geographical Reader for the Dixie Children (Raleigh, 1863), pp.13-14.
Southerners tried to supply all of the elements of civilization during the Civil War including textbooks for schools. This is one example of that genre.
The United States.
1. This was once the most prosperous country in the world. Nearly a hundred years ago it belonged to England, but the English made such hard laws that the people said they would not obey them. After a long, bloody war of seven years, they gained their independence; and for many years were prosperous and happy.
2. In the mean time both English and American ships went to Africa and brought away many of those poor heathen negroes, and sold them for slaves. Some people said it was wrong and asked the King of England to stop it. He replied that "he knew it was wrong; but that slave trade brought much money into his treasury, and it should continue." But both countries afterwards did pass laws to stop this trade. In a few years, the Northern States finding their climate too cold for the negro to be profitable, sold them to the people living farther South. Then the Northern States passed laws to forbid any person owning slaves in their borders.
3. Then the northern people began to preach, to lecture, and to write about the sin of slavery. The money for which they sold their slaves, was now partly spent in trying to persuade the Southern States to send their slaves back to Africa. And when the territories were settled they were not willing for any of them to become slaveholding. This would soon have made the North much stronger than the South; and many of the men said they would vote for a law to free all the negroes in the country. The Southern men tried to show them how unfair this would be, but still they kept on.
4. In the year 1860 the Abolitionists became strong enough to elect one of their men for President. Abraham Lincoln was a weak man, and the South believed he would allow laws to be made, which would deprive them of their rights. So the Southern States seceded, and elected Jefferson Davis for their President. This so enraged President Lincoln that he declared war, and has exhausted nearly all the strength of the nation, in a vain attempt to whip the South back into the Union. Thousands of lives have been lost, and the earth has been drenched with blood; but still Abraham is unable to conquer the "Rebels" as he calls the South. The South only asked to be let alone, and to divide the public property equally. It would have been wise in the North to have said to her Southern sisters, "If you are not content to dwell with us longer, depart in peace. We will divide the inheritance with you, and may you be a great nation."
5. This country possesses many ships, has fine cities and towns, many railroads, steamboats, canals, manufactures, etc. The people are ingenious, and enterprising, and are noted for their tact in "driving a bargain." They are refined, and intelligent on all subjects but that of negro slavery, on this they are mad.
6. The large lakes, the long rivers, the tall mountains, with the beautiful farms and pretty towns and villages, make this a very interesting country to travelers.
Continuity and change in the colleges
1. The Yale Report, 1828
"Original Papers in Relation to a Course of Liberal Education," American Journal of Science and Arts, XV (1829), 299-304,306-310,312-313,323-325, 328-331.
The authors of this influential statement were President Jeremiah Day (1773-1867) and Professor James L. Kingsley (1778-1852). They defended the prescribed curriculum built around the classical languages against the charge that it was useless and antiquated. The report provided arguments for generations of academic conservatives and was used as a blueprint for the course of study in many of the nation's new colleges.
Perhaps the time has come, when we ought to pause, and inquire, whether it will be sufficient to make gradual changes, as heretofore; and whether the whole system is not rather to be broken up, and a better one substituted in its stead. From different quarters, we have heard the suggestion, that our colleges must be new-modelled; that they are not adapted to the spirit and wants of the age; that they will soon be deserted, unless they are better accommodated to the business character of the nation. As this point may have an important bearing upon the question immediately before the committee, we would ask their indulgence, while we attempt to explain, at some length, the nature and object of the present plan of education at the college.
What then is the appropriate object of a college? It is not necessary here to determine what it is which, in every case, entitles an institution to the name of a college. But if we have not greatly misapprehended the design of the patrons and guardians of this college, its object is to LAY THE FOUNDATION of a SUPERIOR EDUCATION: and this is to be done, at a period of life when a substitute must be provided for parental superintendence. The ground work of a thorough education, must be broad, and deep, and solid. For a partial or superficial education, the support may be of looser materials, and more hastily laid.
The two great points to be gained in intellectual culture, are the discipline and the furniture of the mind; expanding its powers, and storing it with knowledge. The former of these is, perhaps, the more important of the two. A commanding object, therefore, in a collegiate course, should be, to call into daily and vigorous exercise the faculties of the student. Those branches of study should be prescribed, and those modes of instruction adopted, which are best calculated to teach the art of fixing the attention, directing the train of thought, analyzing a subject proposed for investigation; following, with accurate discrimination, the course of argument; balancing nicely the evidence presented to the judgment; awakening, elevating, and controlling the imagination; arranging, with skill, the treasures which memory gathers; rousing and guiding the powers of genius. All this is not to be effected by a light and hasty course of study; by reading a few books, hearing a few lectures, and spending some months at a literary institution. The habits of thinking are to be formed, by long continued and close application. The mines of science must be penetrated far below the surface, before they will disclose their treasures. If a dexterous performance of the manual operations, in many of the mechanical arts, requires an apprenticeship, with diligent attention for years; much more does the training of the powers of the mind demand vigorous, and steady, and systematic effort.
In laying the foundation of a thorough education, it is necessary that all the important mental faculties be brought into exercise. It is not sufficient that one or two be cultivated, while others are neglected . . . When certain mental endowments receive a much higher culture than others, there is a distortion in the intellectual character. The mind never attains its full perfection, unless its various powers are so trained as to give them the fair proportions which nature designed. If the student exercises his reasoning powers only, he will be deficient in imagination and taste, in fervid and impressive eloquence. If he confines his attention to demonstrative evidence, he will be unfitted to decide correctly, in cases of probability. If he relies principally on his memory his powers of invention will be impaired by misuse. In the course of instruction in this college, it has been an object to maintain such a proportion between the different branches of literature and science, as to form in the student a proper balance of character. From the pure mathematics, he learns the art of demonstrative reasoning. In attending to the physical sciences, he becomes familiar with facts, with the process of induction, and the varieties of probable evidence. In ancient literature, he finds some of the most finished models of taste. By English reading, he learns the powers of the language in which he is to speak and write. By logic and mental philosophy, he is taught the art of thinking; by rhetoric and oratory, the art of speaking. By frequent exercise on written composition, he acquires copiousness and accuracy of expression. By extemporaneous discussion, he becomes prompt, and fluent, and animated. It is a point of high importance, that eloquence and solid learning should go together; that he who has accumulated the richest treasures of thought, should possess the highest powers of oratory. To what purpose has a man become deeply learned, if he has no faculty of communicating his knowledge? And of what use is a display of rhetorical elegance, from one who knows little or nothing which is worth communicating? . . . Our course, therefore, aims at a union of science with literature; of solid attainment with skill in the art of persuasion.
No one feature in a system of intellectual education, is of greater moment than such an arrangement of duties and motives, as will most effectually throw the student upon the resources of his own mind. Without this, the whole apparatus of libraries, and instruments, and specimens, and lectures, and teachers, will be insufficient to secure distinguished excellence. The scholar must form himself, by his own exertions. The advantages furnished by a residence at a college, can do little more than stimulate and aid his personal efforts. The inventive powers are especially to be called into vigorous exercise. However abundant may be the acquisitions of the student, if he has no talent at forming new combinations of thought, he will be dull and inefficient. The sublimest efforts of genius consist in the creations of the imagination, the discoveries of the intellect, the conquests by which the dominions of science are extended. But the culture of the inventive faculties is not the only object of a liberal education. The most gifted understanding cannot greatly enlarge the amount of science to which the wisdom of ages has contributed. If it were possible for a youth to have his faculties in the highest state of cultivation, without any of the knowledge which is derived from others, he would be but poorly fitted for the business of life. To the discipline of the mind, therefore, is to be added instruction. The analytic method must be combined with the synthetic. Analysis is most efficacious in directing the powers of invention; but is far too slow in its progress to teach, within a moderate space of time, the circle of the sciences.
In our arrangements for the communication of knowledge, as well as in intellectual discipline, such branches are to be taught as will produce a proper symmetry and balance of character. We doubt whether the powers of the mind can be developed, in their fairest proportions, by studying languages alone, or mathematics alone, or natural or political science alone. As the bodily frame is brought to its highest perfection, not by one simple and uniform motion, but by a variety of exercises; so the mental faculties are expanded, and invigorated, and adapted to each other, by familiarity with different departments of science.
A most important feature in the colleges of this country is, that the students are generally of an age which requires, that a substitute be provided for parental superintendence. When removed from under the roof of their parents, and exposed to the untried scenes of temptation, it is necessary that some faithful and affectionate guardian take them by the hand, and guide their steps. This consideration determines the kind of government which ought to be maintained in our colleges. As it is a substitute for the regulations of a family, it should approach as near to the character of parental control as the circumstances of the case will admit. It should be founded on mutual affection and confidence. It should aim to effect its purpose, principally by kind and persuasive influence; not wholly or chiefly by restraint and terror. Still, punishment may sometimes be necessary. There may be perverse members of a college, as well as of a family. There may be those whom nothing but the arm of law can reach.
In giving the course of instruction, it is intended that a due proportion be observed between lectures, and the exercises which are familiarly termed recitations; that is, examinations in a text book. The great advantage of lectures is, that while they call forth the highest efforts of the lecturer, and accelerate his advance to professional eminence; they give that light and spirit to the subject, which awaken the interest and ardor of the student. They may place before him the principles of science, in the attractive dress of living eloquence. Where instruments are to be explained, experiments performed, or specimens exhibited; they are the appropriate mode of communication. But we are far from believing, that all the purposes of instruction can be best answered by lectures alone. They do not always bring upon the student a pressing and definite responsibility. He may repose upon his seat, and yield a passive hearing to the lecturer, without ever calling into exercise the active powers of his own mind. This defect we endeavor to remedy, in part, by frequent examinations on the subjects of the lectures. Still it is important, that the student should have opportunities of retiring by himself, and giving a more commanding direction to his thoughts, than when listening to oral instruction. To secure his steady and earnest efforts, is the great object of the daily examinations or recitations. In these exercises, a textbook is commonly the guide. A particular portion of this is assigned for each meeting. In this way only, can the responsibility be made sufficiently definite.
We deem it to be indispensable to a proper adjustment of our collegiate system, that there should be in it both Professors and Tutors. There is wanted, on the one hand, the experience of those who have been long resident at the institution, and on the other, the fresh and minute information of those who, having more recently mingled with the students, have a distinct recollection of their peculiar feelings, prejudices, and habits of thinking. At the head of each great division of science, it is necessary that there should be a Professor, to superintend the department, to arrange the plan of instruction, to regulate the mode of conducting it, and to teach the more important and difficult parts of the subject. But students in a college, who have just entered on the first elements of science, are not principally occupied with the more abstruse and disputable points. Their attention ought not to be solely or mainly directed to the latest discoveries. They have first to learn the principles which have been in a course of investigation, through successive ages; and have now become simplified and settled. Before arriving at regions hitherto unexplored, they must pass over the intervening cultivated ground. The Professor at the head of a department may, therefore, be greatly aided, in some parts of the course of instruction, by those who are not as deeply versed as himself in all the intricacies of the science. Indeed we doubt, whether elementary principles are always taught to the best advantage, by those whose researches have carried them so far beyond these simpler truths, that they come back to them with reluctance and distaste . . . Young men have often the most ardor, in communicating familiar principles, and in removing those lighter difficulties of the pupil, which, not long since, were found lying across their own path.
In the internal police of the institution, as the students are gathered into one family, it is deemed an essential provision, that some of the officers should constitute a portion of this family; being always present with them, not only at their meals, and during the business of the day; but in the hours allotted to rest. The arrangement is such, that in our college buildings, there is no room occupied by students, which is not near to the chamber of one of the officers.
But the feature in our system which renders a considerable number of tutors indispensable, is the subdivision of our classes, and the assignment of each portion to the particular charge of one man. Each of the three junior classes is formed into two or three divisions; and each division is committed to the superintendence of a tutor. Although he is not confined to the instruction of his own division; but makes such exchanges with the other tutors as will give to each the opportunity of teaching his favorite branch; yet by meeting them in the recitation rooms two or three times every day, and by minutely inspecting their conduct on other occasions, he renders a service to the police of the institution, which could be secured in no other way. It is intended that the government should be, as much as possible, of a parental character; a government of mild and grateful influence. But the basis of this must be mutual attachment; such as can spring only from daily and peculiar intimacy. If the same teacher instructs eight or ten different divisions, in rapid succession, it will be difficult for him to feel, that he stands in a very near relation to them all. If the same student attends on a dozen different instructers, in rotation, he may respect them all; but can hardly be expected to view them with any peculiar affection.
The collegiate course of study, of which we have now given a summary view, we hope may be carefully distinguished from several other objects and plans, with which it has been too often confounded. It is far from embracing every thing which the student will ever have occasion to learn. The object is not to finish his education; but to lay the foundation, and to advance as far in rearing the superstructure, as the short period of his residence here will admit. If he acquires here a thorough knowledge of the principles of science, he may then, in a great measure, educate himself. He has, at least, been taught how to learn. With the aid of books, and means of observation, he may be constantly advancing in knowledge. Wherever he goes, into whatever company he falls, he has those general views, on every topic of interest, which will enable him to understand, to digest, and to form a correct opinion, on the statements and discussions which he hears. There are many things important to be known, which are not taught in colleges, because they may be learned any where. The knowledge, though indispensable, comes to us as freely, in the way of our business, as our necessary supplies of light, and air, and water.
The course of instruction which is given to the undergraduates in the college, is not designed to include professional studies. Our object is not to teach that which is peculiar to any one of the professions; but to lay the foundation which is common to them all. There are separate schools for medicine, law, and theology, connected with the college, as well as in various parts of the country; which are open for the reception of all who are prepared to enter upon the appropriate studies of their several professions. With these, the academical course is not intended to interfere.
But why, it may be asked, should a student waste his time upon studies which have no immediate connection with his future profession? Will chemistry enable him to plead at the bar, or conic sections qualify him for preaching, or astronomy aid him in the practice of physic? Why should not his attention be confined to the subject which is to occupy the labors of his life? In answer to this, it may be observed, that there is no science which does not contribute its aid to professional skill. "Every thing throws light upon every thing." The great object of a collegiate education, preparatory to the study of a profession, is to give that expansion and balance of the mental powers, those liberal and comprehensive views, and those fine proportions of character, which are not to be found in him whose ideas are always continued to one particular channel. When a man has entered upon the practice of his profession, the energies of his mind must be given, principally, to its appropriate duties. But if his thoughts never range on other subjects, if he never looks abroad on the ample domains of literature and science, there will be a narrowness in his habits of thinking, a peculiarity of character, which will be sure to mark him as a man of limited views and attainments. Should he be distinguished in his profession, his ignorance on other subjects, and the defects of his education, will be the more exposed to public observation. On the other hand, he who is not only eminent in professional life, but has also a mind richly stored with general knowledge, has an elevation and dignity of character, which gives him a commanding influence in society, and a widely extended sphere of usefulness. His situation enables him to diffuse the light of science among all classes of the community. Is a man to have no other object, than to obtain a living by professional pursuits? Has he not duties to perform to his family, to his fellow citizens, to his country; duties which require various and extensive intellectual furniture.
Professional studies are designedly excluded from the course of instruction at college, to leave room for those literary and scientific acquisitions which, if not commenced there, will, in most cases, never be made. They will not grow up spontaneously, amid the bustle of business . . .
As our course of instruction is not intended to complete an education, in theological, medical, or legal science; neither does it include all the minute details of mercantile, mechanical, or agricultural concerns. These can never be effectually learned except in the very circumstances in which they are to be practised. The young merchant must be trained in the counting room, the mechanic, in the workshop, the farmer, in the field. But we have, on our premises, no experimental farm or retail shop; no cotton or iron manufactory; no hatter's, or silver-smith's, or coach-maker's establishment. For what purpose, then, it will be asked, are young men who are destined to these occupations, ever sent to a college? They should not be sent, as we think, with an expectation of finishing their education at the college; but with a view of laying a thorough foundation in the principles of science, preparatory to the study of the practical arts. As every thing cannot be learned in four years, either theory or practice must be, in a measure at least, postponed to a future opportunity. But if the scientific theory of the arts is ever to be acquired, it is unquestionably first in order of time. The corner stone must be laid, before the superstructure is erected . . .
The question may be asked, What is a young man fitted for, when he takes his degree? Does he come forth from the college qualified for business? We answer, no, — if he stops here. His education is begun, but not completed. Is the college to be reproached for not accomplishing that which it has never undertaken to perform?
But why, it is asked, should all the students in a college be required to tread in the same steps? Why should not each one be allowed to select those branches of study which are most to his taste, which are best adapted to his peculiar talents, and which are most nearly connected with his intended profession? To this we answer, that our prescribed course contains those subjects only which ought to be understood, as we think, by every one who aims at a thorough education. They are not the peculiarities of any profession or art. These are to be learned in the professional and practical schools. But the principles of science, are the common foundation of all high intellectual attainments. As in our primary schools, reading, writing, and arithmetic are taught to all, however different their prospects; so in a college, all should be instructed in those branches of knowledge, of which no one destined to the higher walks of life ought to be ignorant. What subject which is now studied here, could be set aside, without evidently marring the system. Not to speak particularly, in this place, of the ancient languages; who that aims at a well proportioned and superior education will remain ignorant of the elements of the various branches of the mathematics, or of history and antiquities, or of rhetoric and oratory, or natural philosophy, or astronomy, or chemistry, or mineralogy, or geology, or political economy, or mental and moral philosophy?
It is sometimes thought that a student ought not to be urged to the study of that for which he has no taste or capacity. But how is he to know, whether he has a taste or capacity for a science, before he has even entered upon its elementary truths? If he is really destitute of talent sufficient for these common departments of education, he is destined for some narrow sphere of action. But we are well persuaded, that our students are not so deficient in intellectual powers, as they sometimes profess to be; though they are easily made to believe, that they have no capacity for the study of that which they are told is almost wholly useless.
When a class have become familiar with the common elements of the several sciences, then is the proper time for them to divide off to their favorite studies. They can then make their choice from actual trial. This is now done here, to some extent, in our Junior year. The division might be commenced at an earlier period, and extended farther, provided the qualifications for admission into the college, were brought to a higher standard.
Our republican form of government renders it highly important, that great numbers should enjoy the advantage of a thorough education. On the Eastern continent, the few who are destined to particular departments in political life, may be educated for the purpose; while the mass of the people arc left in comparative ignorance. But in this country, where offices are accessible to all who are qualified for them, superior intellectual attainments ought not to be confined to any description of persons. Merchants, manufacturers, and farmers, as well as professional gentlemen, take their places in our public councils. A thorough education ought therefore to be extended to all these classes. It is not sufficient that they be men of sound judgment, who can decide correctly, and give a silent vote, on great national questions. Their influence upon the minds of others is needed; an influence to be produced by extent of knowledge, and the force of eloquence. Ought the speaking in our deliberative assemblies to be confined to a single profession? If it is knowledge, which gives us the command of physical agents and instruments, much more is it that which enables us to control the combinations of moral and political machinery.
Young men intended for active employments ought not to be excluded from the colleges, merely on the ground that the course of study is not specially adapted to their pursuits. This principle would exclude those also who are intended for the professions. In either case, the object of the undergraduate course, is not to finish a preparation for business; but to impart that various and general knowledge, which will improve, and elevate, and adorn any occupation. Can merchants, manufacturers, and agriculturists, derive no benefit from high intellectual culture? They are the very classes which, from their situation and business, have the best opportunities for reducing the principles of science to their practical applications. The large estates which the tide of prosperity in our country is so rapidly accumulating, will fall mostly into their hands. Is it not desirable that they should be men of superior education, of large and liberal views, of those solid and elegant attainments, which will raise them to a higher distinction, than the mere possession of property; which will not allow them to hoard their treasures, or waste them in senseless extravagance: which will enable them to adorn society by their learning, to move in the more intelligent circles with dignity, and to make such an application of their wealth, as will be most honorable to themselves, and most beneficial to their country?
The active, enterprising character of our population, renders it highly important, that this bustle and energy should be directed by sound intelligence, the result of deep thought and early discipline. The greater the impulse to action, the greater is the need of wise and skillful guidance. When nearly all the ship's crew are aloft, setting the topsails, and catching the breezes, it is necessary there should be a steady hand at helm. Light and moderate learning is but poorly fitted to direct the energies of a nation, so widely extended, so intelligent, so powerful in resources, so rapidly advancing in population, strength, and opulence. Where a free government gives full liberty to the human intellect to expand and operate, education should be proportionably liberal and ample. When even our mountains, and rivers, and lakes, are upon a scale which seems to denote, that we are destined to be a great and mighty nation, shall our literature be feeble, and scanty, and superficial?
The subject of inquiry now presented, is, whether the plan of instruction pursued in Yule College, is sufficiently accommodated to the present state of literature and science; and, especially, whether such a change is demanded as would leave out of this plan the study of the Greek and Roman classics, and make an acquaintance with ancient literature no longer necessary for a degree in the liberal arts.
In the British Islands, in France, Germany, Italy, and, indeed, in every country of Europe in which literature has acquired distinction and importance, the Greek and Roman classics constitute an essential part of a liberal education. In some countries, classical studies are reviving from a temporary depression; in others, where no such depression has been experienced, they are pursued with increased ardor; and in none, are they known to be declining in public estimation. There may be more variety of opinion than formerly, as to the use of classical learning in certain departments of life; but the conviction of its necessity in the highest education, that which has any claim or pretence to be denominated liberal, is not known to have sustained any considerable change. The literature of every country of Europe is founded more or less on classical literature, and derives from this source its most important illustrations. This is evident not only from such works as have long since appeared, and which form the standard literature of modern times, but from those most recently published, and even from the periodical works of the day. Classical learning is interwoven with every literary discussion. The fact only is here insisted on, and this is undeniable. Whoever, then, without a preparation in classical literature, engages in any literary investigation, or undertakes to discuss any literary topic, or associates with those who in any country of Europe, or in this country, are acknowledged to be men of liberal acquirements, immediately feels a deficiency in his education, and is convinced that he is destitute of an important part of practical learning. If scholars, then, are to be prepared to act in the literary world as it in fact exists, classical literature, from considerations purely practical, should form an important part of their early discipline.
But the claims of classical learning are not limited to this single view. It may be defended not only as a necessary branch of education, in the present state of the world, but on the ground of its distinct and independent merits. Familiarity with the Greek and Roman writers is especially adapted to form the taste, and to discipline the mind, both in thought and diction, to the relish of what is elevated, chaste, and simple. The compositions which these writers have left us, both in prose and verse, whether considered in reference to structure, style, modes of illustration, or general execution, approach nearer than any others to what the human mind, when thoroughly informed and disciplined, of course approves; and constitute, what it is most desirable to possess, standard for determining literary merit.
But the study of the classics is useful, not only as it lays the foundations of a correct taste, and furnishes the student with those elementary ideas which are found in the literature of modern times, and which he no where so well acquires as in their original sources;—but also as the study itself forms the most effectual discipline of the mental faculties. This is a topic so often insisted on, that little need be said of it here. It must be obvious to the most cursory observer, that the classics afford materials to exercise talent of every degree, from the first opening of the youthful intellect to the period of its highest maturity. The range of classical study extends from the elements of language, to the most difficult questions arising from literary research and criticism. Every faculty of the mind is employed; not only the memory, judgment, and reasoning powers, but the taste and fancy are occupied and improved.
Classical discipline, likewise, forms the best preparation for professional study. The interpretation of language, and its correct use, are no where more important, than in the professions of divinity and law. But in a course of classical education, every step familiarizes the mind with the structure of language, and the meaning of words and phrases. In researches of a historical nature, and many such occur in the professions, a knowledge, especially of the Latin language, is often indispensable. The use of a thorough knowledge of Greek to a theologian, no one will deny. It is admitted that instances may be found of distinguished success in these professions, where the advantages of a classical education were not enjoyed;—but success of this kind proves only that talents may sometimes force their way to eminence through powerful obstacles. In settling a plan of education, the inquiry should be, not what some men of uncommon endowments have done, but what most men find necessary. Even in cases of extraordinary success, such as have been now alluded to, the want of classical knowledge has been often felt and lamented.
In the profession of medicine, the knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages is less necessary now than formerly; but even at the present time it may be doubted, whether the facilities which classical learning affords for understanding and rendering familiar the terms of science, do not more than counterbalance the time and labor requisite for obtaining this learning. Besides, a physician, who would thoroughly investigate the history of his profession, will find a knowledge of the ancient languages, essential to his object. In all the professions, likewise, a knowledge of general literature is of high importance as a qualification for extensive intercourse with mankind. The formality of the professional character, where the course of reading and thinking is confined to one channel, has often been remarked. The mere divine, the mere lawyer, or the mere physician, however well informed he may be in his particular profession, has less chance of success, than if his early education had been of a more liberal character.
2. A critique of the sectarian influence on American colleges, 1829
L. J. Halsey, ed., The Works of Philip Lindsley (Philadelphia, 1859), I, 202-206.
Lindsley (1786-1855) was a graduate of Princeton and president of the University of Nashville where he delivered this baccalaureate address.
A principal cause of the excessive multiplication and dwarfish dimensions of Western colleges is, no doubt, the diversity of religious denominations among us. Almost every sect will have its college, and generally one at least in each State. Of the score of colleges in Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee, all are sectarian except two or three; and of course few of them are what they might and should be; and the greater part of them are mere impositions on the public. This is a grievous and growing evil. Why colleges should be sectarian, any more than penitentiaries or than bank, road or canal corporations, is not very obvious. Colleges are designed for the instruction of youth in the learned languages — in polite literature — in the liberal arts and sciences — and not in the dogmatical theology of any sect or party. Why then should they be baptized with sectarian names? Are they to inculcate sectarian Greek, sectarian mathematics, sectarian logic, history, rhetoric, philosophy? Must every State be divided and subdivided into as many college associations as there are religious sects within its limits? And thus, by their mutual jealousy and distrust, effectually prevent the usefulness and prosperity of any one institution? Why does any sect covet the exclusive control of a college, if it be not to promote party and sectarian purposes?
I am aware that as soon as any sect succeeds in obtaining a charter for a something called a college, they become, all of a sudden, wondrously liberal and catholic. They forthwith proclaim to the public that their college is the best in the world — and withal, perfectly free from the odious taint of sectarianism. That youth of all religions may come to it without the slightest risk of being proselyted to the faith of the governing sect. This is very modest and very specious, and very hollow, and very hypocritical. They hold out false colours to allure and to deceive the incautious. Their college is sectarian, and they know it. It is established by a party — governed by a party — taught by a party — and designed to promote the ends of a party. Else why is it under the absolute and perpetual management and control of a party? They very eagerly and very naturally desire the patronage of other sects, for the double purpose of receiving pecuniary aid, and of adding to their numbers and strength from the ranks of other denominations.
Let any religious sect whatever obtain the absolute direction of a college — located in a small village or retired part of the country— where their religious influence is paramount, perhaps exclusive — where the youth must necessarily attend upon such religious instructions and exercises and ceremonies as they shall prescribe—where, in fact, they can witness no other — where every sermon and prayer and form, where all private conversation and ministerial services proceed from, or are directed by, the one sect — and, is it possible that youth, at the most susceptible period of their lives, should not be operated on by such daily influences, during a period of two, four or six years? How long will the people be gulled by such barefaced impudence — by such unreasonable and monstrous pretensions?
I do not object to any sect's being allowed the privilege of erecting and maintaining, at their own expense, as many schools, colleges and theological seminaries as they please. But, then, their sectarian views should be openly and distinctly avowed. Their purpose should be specified in their charters: and the legislature should protect the people from imposition by the very act which invests them with corporate powers. Hitherto, almost every legislature has pursued an opposite policy, and has aided the work of deception, by enacting that, in the said sectarian institution, youths of all sects should be entitled to equal privileges. Thus the sectarian manufactory goes into operation under the smiles, patronage and recommendation of the people's representatives. Its friends puff it off, and laud it as the people's school, and plead their liberal charter as the talisman that is to guard the people against every insidious attempt at proselytism; and urge the people to contribute their money to build up their promising and most catholic seminary. The bait is seized — the people are cheated — and the sect has its college. Students of all denominations frequent it. And no man of sense and reflection can doubt the consequences . . .
A public college — that is, a literary and scientific college designed for the public generally — ought to be independent of all religious sectarian bias, or tendency, or influence. And it ought, when practicable, to be situated in a town or city where the several sects, composing the body of the people, have their own places of public worship, to which their sons may have free access; and where the public eye may be constantly fixed on the conduct of the Trustees and Faculty. And where every artful attempt at proselytism would be instantly detected and exposed. Some men are so constituted that they cannot help being partisans and bigots. Such men are not fit to be the instructors of youth, except where it is intended that the dogmas of a sect shall be inculcated.
Science and philosophy ought to know no party in Church or State. They are degraded by every such connexion. Christianity, indeed, if rightly interpreted, breathes a pure angelic charity, and is as much a stranger to the strife, and intrigue, and rancour, and intolerance, and pharisaism of party, as science and philosophy can be. But so long as men are not content to be honest Christians, but will be zealous Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodist, Baptist, Quakers or Romanist, we must so organize our public seminaries of learning, as that all may intrust their sons to them without fear of danger to their religious faith.
3. A plan for a modern university, 1851
Henry P. Tappan, University Education (New York, 1851), pp. 68-70, 88-95.
Tappan (1805-1881), a professor of philosophy and author of many works on that subject, became president of the University of Michigan in 1852. There he attempted to implement the ideas set out in this work but encountered so much opposition that he resigned in 1863.
It were well to commence about this time some experiment of a different kind — a new experiment, and yet one of no doubtful issue, if we can carry it out to its issue. If we can give it a beginning and a middle, we know what its end must be. The establishment of Universities in our country will reform, and alone can reform our educational system. By the Universities we mean such as we have before described—CyclopÊdias of education: where, in libraries, cabinets, apparatus, and professors, provision is made for studying every branch of knowledge in full, for carrying forward all scientific investigation; where study may be extended without limit, where the mind may be cultivated according to its wants, and where, in the lofty enthusiasm of growing knowledge and ripening scholarship, the bauble of an academical diploma is forgotten. When we have such institutions, those who would be scholars will have some place to resort to; and those who have already the gifts of scholarship will have some place where to exercise them. With such institutions in full operation, the public will begin to comprehend what scholarship means, and discern the difference between sciolists and men of learning. Then we shall hear no more inane discussions about the expediency of discarding Latin and Greek; for, classical scholars there will then be, who will have an opportunity of showing the value of the immortal languages, and the immortal writings of the most cultivated nations of antiquity. Then we shall have mathematicians prepared for astronomers and engineers. Then we shall have philosophers who can discourse without text-books. Then, too, we shall have no more acute distinctions drawn between scholastic and practical education; for, it will be seen that all true education is practical, and that practice without education is little worth; and then there will be dignity, grace, and a resistless charm about scholarship and the scholar.
The philosophic idea of education being thus developed in the highest form of an educational institution — where alone it can be adequately developed — it will begin to exert its power over all subordinate institutions. There will now be demanded a preparation suitable for undertaking the higher degrees of scholarship, and schools and colleges will receive a new impulse and will be determined to their proper form. We shall not now attempt to learn a little of everything in the lower institutions; but we shall learn that which is requisite to prepare for the higher, and we shall learn that well. The influence of the higher will be to give limitation, order, consistency, and thoroughness to the lower. And there will be diffused through all schools of every grade, and for both sexes, new ideas of intellectual discipline, and the sense of an elevated life and duty. Education now will have an authority to define it, examples to illustrate it, and the voice of a Divine spirit to call it forth.
We might have had Universities ere this, had we not wasted our means and energies in unfruitful schemes and misappropriations. We have wasted large sums in erecting expensive buildings in many different places for small collections of students, which, had they been concentrated, would have given for several uncertain colleges a stable University, with ample provision of books and the whole material of learning, and with endowed professorships.
We have delayed this great work of founding Universities too long. We cannot well afford to wait for any new sign from heaven before we begin this work. Is there any impertinence in calling upon all scholars and true friends of learning to consider whether we may not now create at least one great institution of learning that may vie with the best of the old world? And if we designed to show the spirit of this undertaking in a few words, we would say, that it is required for the successful development of such an institution, that it should neither cheapen its education at the expense of its intellectual life and aliment, nor be tempted to do so; that it should be adequate to educate the many, and yet not be destroyed if compelled, for a time, to educate the few; that it should be removed alike from the conflicts and jealousies of sects in the Church, and of parties in the State; and that it should be faithfully consecrated to science, literature, and art.
No part of our country presents equal facilities with the city of New York, for carrying out this great undertaking. New York is really the metropolitan city of our country. The centre of commercial activity, the vast reservoir of wealth, it takes the lead in the elegancies and splendor of life, in the arts of luxury and amusement. It is also the great emporium of books and the fine arts. Here resort the professors of music and of the arts of design. Here literary men are taking up their abode. Here literary institutions of various kinds and grades have already come into being. Here are libraries established by associations or by individual munificence, which are enlarging themselves from year to year. Commerce, wealth, and elegance invite, nay, demand the invigorating life, the counterbalancing power and activity of intellectual cultivation. Whatever is requisite for a great Institution of Learning can here be most readily collected; and here are the means in profusion of creating whatever the well-being and glory of our city and of our country may require. By adding to the natural attractions of a metropolitan city the attractions of literature, science, and art, as embodied in a great University, students from every part of the Union would be naturally drawn together. We should thus have a fully appointed national Institution where the bonds of our nationality would be strengthened by the loftiest form of education, the sympathy of scholars, and the noblest productions of literature.
A great Institution would collect together all that is now scattered and isolated among us, be the home of scholars, the nurse of scholar-like endeavors, the regulating and harmonizing centre of thought and investigation. Our whole population would feel the plastic power of intellectual development and progress; society would receive new forms and habitudes from a learned class, and knowledges be widely diffused by public lectures under the direction of an elite corporation.
But what shall be the form of this Institution?
We would take as models, in general, the University of Paris, the Universities of England before they were submerged in the Colleges, and the Universities of Germany.
In the creation of such a University we would at the very beginning collect a choice, varied, and ample library, second to none in the world in books to aid students in attaining ripe scholarship, and in promoting investigation in every department of knowledge — a library distinguished more for valuable and directly available resources of scholarship than for curious and antiquarian collections, estimated rather by the character than the number of its volumes. At the same time we would collect all the necessary apparatus for Physics and Chemistry; we would furnish a noble Observatory; we would found a rich Cabinet of Natural History; and we would open a gallery of the Fine Arts.
Thus with a full store of the material of science, literature, and the arts, would we lay the foundation of a University. We should thus meet aspirations and wants which, in our country, have hitherto been only disappointed, and call into the walks of learning, by commanding attractions, ingenuous minds that in despair have hitherto given themselves to other pursuits.
We would constitute four Faculties, a Faculty of Philosophy and Science, a Faculty of Letters and Arts, a Faculty of Law, and a Faculty of Medicine. Under these should be comprised a sufficient number of professorships to make a proper distribution of the various subjects comprehended under the general titles. These professorships should be endowed to an extent to afford the incumbents a competency independently of tuition fees. The necessity of such endowments must be obvious when we reflect that studious men require undisturbed minds, and that there are branches of knowledge which the interests of the world demand to have taught — such as Philology, Philosophy, the higher Astronomy, Mathematics, and Physics, while at the same time the number of students will be comparatively few.
It may be a question whether fees of tuition should be required of students, or whether the lectures, together with the libraries and cabinets, should be thrown open gratuitously to the public, as is done in the University of Paris. In this case the professorships, of course, would require to be more amply endowed.
The Professors of the different Faculties should be required to give courses of lectures, on the subjects assigned to them, to the Academical Members of the University. They should also be required to give popular courses to the public in general, on subjects selected by themselves.
By the Academical Members, we mean those who shall be admitted upon examination, or upon a Bachelor's degree from any College, and who shall enroll themselves as candidates for the University degrees.
These degrees may be of two grades. The lower grade may comprise Master of Arts, Doctor of Philosophy, Doctor of Medicine, and Bachelor of Laws; the higher grade may comprise Doctor of Laws, Doctor of Theology, and other degrees to mark a high and honorable advance in Medicine, and in Philosophy, Science, Letters and Art.
Those of the first grade to be awarded after three or four years' study, and upon examination. Those of the second grade to be awarded as honorary degrees to men distinguished in the walks of life for their attainments and professional eminence, and to individuals who remain for a still longer term of years connected with the University in learned pursuits. It is, of course, understood that the provisions of the University are to be such as to enable students to pursue favorite branches of science, or learning in general, for an indefinite term of years.
One concurrent effect of this organization would be to elevate the character of Academical degrees, by making them the expression of real attainments, and honorable badges of real merit.
In connection with the popular courses of lectures, there should, also, be established courses particularly designed for the benefit of those engaged in commerce and the useful arts. This would give rise to another class of students besides the Academical, who might avail themselves of every advantage of the University possible to them under the degree of preparation they may have made, and under the pressure of daily business avocations. So also, others besides Academical students might attend the lectures in Law and Medicine, or indeed any courses which they might please to select, but without being considered as candidates for University degrees.
The result would be that the libraries, cabinets, laboratories, and lecture rooms of the University would become the resort of students of every grade; it would thus become the great centre of intellectual activity, and a fountain of learning open to the whole populace.
The different public libraries of the city might, also, be connected with it under their distinctive names; and new libraries might be founded by new donors, under new names, in the same connection, like the different libraries of the English Universities.
It will be remarked that we have omitted a Faculty of Theology in the constitution of this University. As each denomination of Christians has its peculiar Theological views and interests, it would be impossible to unite them harmoniously in one Faculty. It is most expedient, therefore, to leave this branch to the Theological Institutions already established by the several denominations. But still a connection of an unobjectionable character might be formed between Theological Institutions, especially those existing in this city, and the University, productive of very rich benefits. The students of the former might be admitted not only to the libraries of the latter, but also to the lectures on history, philosophy, philology, and general literature, when distinguished lecturers on these subjects gave promise of advantages additional to those enjoyed in the Theological Institutions. Indeed an arrangement might be made by which students undergoing prescribed examinations in philosophy, natural theology, philology, and history, and presenting certificates from their Professors of having completed satisfactorily their Theological courses, might be admitted to the degree of Bachelor in Theology. Students of the Free Academy, also, after having completed their courses in that Institution, might be admitted into the University as Academical Students, or otherwise according to the preparation they may have made.
Thus all our Institutions of learning would grow into a harmonious whole.
With respect to its religious and moral character it should embody in its constitution: First, an entire separation from ecclesiastical control and a renunciation of all sectarian partialities. Secondly, but as every thing that relates to human welfare, needs to be taken under the protecting and nurturing wings of Christianity, it should acknowledge Christianity to be the only true religion, the Bible to be of Divine inspiration, and the supreme rule of Faith and Duty, given freely to all men to be read and received with entire freedom of conscience and opinion.
To carry out these principles it should provide for an equal control of all denominations of Christians acknowledging these principles; it should institute a course of lectures on the evidences of Christianity and on Christian morality; and the reading of the Scriptures together with prayer should constitute a daily public service to be conducted by the Professors in the presence of the students.
No religious profession, however, should be required for admission to the University, but it should be open to students of all creeds as well as of all nations.
For the full development of such an institution, ample funds are required; but that private munificence can accomplish it we fully believe. If the attention of our community can be aroused to the necessity, the interest, the glory of such a work, the accomplishment of it cannot be long delayed.
4. The demands of democracy on higher education
Francis Wayland, The Education Demanded by the People of the U. States (Boston, 1855), pp. 24-27.
President Wayland (1796-1865) of Brown University drew attention in this essay to those circumstances of American life that were encouraging the colleges to redefine their purpose and reconstruct the curriculum. His reforms of 1850 in Brown's academic program placed the school among the innovative leaders in higher education. [1a]
We have a population increasing in wealth with a rapidity wholly unprecedented. The intellect of this people is aroused to action by the means universally provided for common school education. This awakened intellect is stimulated to uncommon activity by the legitimate effects of the democratic principle. Now, can a philanthropist, a patriot, or a statesman, hesitate for a moment, when he is called upon to determine the principles by which the higher education of such a people should be governed?
Shall we, having educated the whole people up to a certain point, giving to all equal advantages for self-development, then reverse our whole system, and bestow the advantages of higher education only upon a few? Shall we say that the lawyer, and physician, and clergyman, need a knowledge of principles in order to pursue their callings with success, while the farmer, the mechanic, the manufacturer, and the merchant require no knowledge of the laws upon which the success of every operation which they perform depends? Shall we say that we need a literary class of men, and for the education of these we will make ample provision, while for all the rest it makes no manner of difference whether they be thoughtful, independent and self-reliant, or nothing but mere hewers of wood and drawers of water? Shall we say that intellect is to be cultivated and talent developed in one direction alone, or developed in every possible direction? I cannot conceive it possible for American citizens to hold any divided opinion on this subject. He would certainly be a rare man who would openly contend for such a distinction as these questions suppose. We are all equal. We are all left each one for himself to work out his own destiny, and to make provision for those that shall come after him. Every one needs knowledge, knowledge of the laws which shall command success in his own avocation. Every one needs that knowledge which shall enable him to form correct judgments, and all men need it equally. Wherever a provision is made for education by private munificence, all men may reasonably expect to share it without distinction; where provision is made by the public, they may rightfully demand it. Nothing can be conceived of, more diametrically opposed to the first principles of our government, than to impose a tax upon the whole, and then appropriate it to the benefit of a part.
But it will, I presume, be answered, that I am contending where there is no adversary; that all our institutions of learning are equally open for all, and that all men may avail themselves of their advantages if they be so disposed. All this I grant. But I ask, for whom were our present systems of collegiate education devised? — for the few or for the many? They were originally designed exclusively for the clergy, and in the fatherland they have been perpetuated for the clergy and the aristocracy. They are, in this country, devised mainly for the professions, and their success is measured by their results upon the professions. The learning which they cultivate is in kind and amount measured by the demands of the professions. But I ask, as I have done before, have not the mechanic and the merchant, the farmer and the manufacturer, as much need of knowledge, each in his own profession, as the lawyer, the minister, and the physician? Have they not as just a claim on the money taken from their own earnings, as those classes which have been so exclusively favored? May they not then justly demand that not only education in higher knowledge shall be provided for them, but that it shall be education of which they may profitably avail themselves; so that they may enter upon their career in life, under as favorable auspices as those who prefer what arc sometimes called literary professions?
It would seem then that, in devising a system of higher education for our country, we should commence with the self-evident maxim, that we are to labor not for the benefit of one but of all; not for a caste, or a clique, but for the whole community. Proceeding upon this ground, we should provide the instruction needed by every class of our fellow-citizens. Wherever an institution is established in any part of our country, our first inquiry should be, what is the kind of knowledge (in addition to that demanded for all) which this portion of our people needs, in order to perfect them in their professions, give them power over principles, enable them to develop their intellectual resources and employ their talents to the greatest advantage for themselves and for the country? This knowledge, whatever it may be, should be provided as liberally for one class as for another. Whatever is thus taught, however, should be taught, not only with the design of increasing knowledge, but also of giving strength, enlargement and skill to the original faculties of the soul. When a system of education formed on these principles shall pervade this country, we may be able to present to the world the legitimate results of free institutions; by pursuing any other career we may render them a shame and a by-word.
5. The Morrill Act, 1862, donating federal lands to the loyal states for the foundation and support of colleges
U.S. Statutes at Large, XII, 503-505.
Through this act, introduced by Representative Justin Morrill of Vermont, the federal government became a major sponsor of higher education. Although the act specifically required land-grant institutions to supply instruction in "agriculture and the mechanic arts," they were to offer traditional college subjects as well. Many important decisions regarding the organization and operation of the new colleges were left to the states.
Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled. That there be granted to the several States, for the purposes hereinafter mentioned, an amount of public land, to be apportioned to each State a quantity equal to thirty thousand acres for each senator and representative in Congress to which the States are respectively entitled by the apportionment under the census of eighteen hundred and sixty: Provided, That no mineral lands shall be selected or purchased under the provisions of this act.
Section 4. And be it further enacted. That all moneys derived from the sale of the lands aforesaid by the States to which the lands are apportioned, and from the sales of land scrip hereinbefore provided for, shall be invested in stocks of the United States, or of the States, or some other safe stocks, yielding not less than five per centum upon the par value of said stocks; and that the moneys so invested shall constitute a perpetual fund, the capital of which shall remain forever undiminished (except so far as may be provided in section fifth of this act) and the interest of which shall be inviolably appropriated, by each State which may take and claim the benefit of this act, to the endowment, support, and maintenance of at least one college where the leading object shall be, without excluding other scientific and classical studies, and including military tactics, to teach such branches of learning as are related to agriculture and the mechanic arts, in such manner as the legislatures of the State may respectively prescribe, in order to promote the liberal and practical education of the industrial classes in the several pursuits and professions in life.
No portion of said fund, nor the interest thereon, shall be applied, directly or indirectly, under any pretence whatever, to the purchase, erection, preservation, or repair of any building or buildings.
Any State which may take and claim the benefit of the provisions of this act shall provide, within five years, at least not less than one college, as described in the fourth section of this act, or the grant to such State shall cease; and said State shall be bound to pay the United States the amount received of any lands previously sold, and that the title to purchasers under the State shall be valid.
No State while in a condition of rebellion or insurrection against the government of the United States shall be entitled to the benefit of this act.
The higher education of women
1. Emma Willard proposes advanced instruction for women in "female seminaries," 1819
Emma Willard, A Plan for Improving Female Education, reprint of the 2d ed., 1819 (Middlebury, Vt.: Middlebury College, 1918),pp.5-6, 13-16.
Miss Willard (1787-1870) proposed to improve women's education but not to make it an exact copy of collegiate instruction for men. She felt education for women should be adjusted to women's needs and responsibilities by including "domestic instruction" and "the ornamental branches." Her hope of securing support from the New York legislature was disappointed but in 1821 she established the Troy (New York) Female Seminary with the assistance of citizens of that city.
The idea of a college for males will naturally be associated with that of a seminary, instituted and endowed by the public; and the absurdity of sending ladies to college, may, at first thought, strike every one to whom this subject shall be proposed. I therefore hasten to observe, that the seminary here recommended, will be as different from those appropriated to the other sex, as the female character and duties are from the male. The business of the husbandman is not to waste his endeavours, in seeking to make his orchard attain the strength and majesty of his forest, but to rear each, to the perfection of its nature.
That the improvement of female education will be considered by our enlightened citizens as a subject of importance, the liberality with which they part with their property to educate their daughters, is a sufficient evidence; and why should they not, when assembled in the legislature, act in concert to effect a noble object, which, though dear to them individually, cannot be accomplished by their unconnected exertions.
If the improvement of the American female character, and that alone, could be effected by public liberality, employed in giving better means of instruction; such improvement of one half of society, and that half, which barbarous and despotic nations have ever degraded, would of itself be an object, worthy of the most liberal government on earth; but if the female character be raised, it must inevitably raise that of the other sex: and thus does the plan proposed, offer, as the object of legislative bounty, to elevate the whole character of the community.
As evidence that this statement does not exaggerate the female influence in society, our sex need but be considered, in the single relation of mothers. In this character, we have the charge of the whole mass of individuals, who are to compose the succeeding generation; during that period of youth, when the pliant mind takes any direction, to which it is steadily guided by a forming hand. How important a power is given by thi