fficials eld is ilways We fornia ifths of F ebruary, 1927 The Woman Who Was Forgotten Bess STREETER ALDRICH ISS MILLER sat on the porch M of her little cottage in the soft June dusk. Miss Miller had a given name, but no one ever used it. In spite of the fact that there were a half- dozen others entitled to the same cogno- men, she alone was ‘‘Miss Miller’ to the entire town. Miss Miller, who had come from the east to this midwest state in her young womanhood, had been prin- cipal of the highschool for years upon years. And now she was old, with not much to show for those years of service to the community. Service is not a sub- stance. It is immaterial, a disembodied thing. You cannot see it, nor show it to your friends, nor put it in the bank. Because this is true, Miss Miller, sitting in the lush warmth of the new-summer evening, faced The Visitor. Naturally cheerful and optimistic, she had avoided ithitherto. If it had been just Old Age she could have gone out to meet it with cheery greeting. But it was harsher— Dependent Old Age. It is a cruel guest. A year had gone by since Miss Miller resigned her position. Voluntarily she had given up her work, to forestall any possible action of the school board. Like a surgeon she had operated. Never must anyone say that she had stayed too long, outgrown her usefulness. The phase of the affair which hurt was the agility with which the board had ac- cepted the resignation. They must have been waiting for it. With hurt pride she had packed her household things, rented her cottage, and gone back east to live for a time with a married niece. Because she had helped the niece through college, she carried in the secret place of her heart, like an unborn hope, the thought that the niece would want her to remain for the rest of her life. By a system of arithmetic as old as the science itself she had worked her problem. It was very simple: a fourth- grade child could have done it. The sum of money in the bank, plus that which would come from the sale of the cottage, made the dividend. The possible num- ber of years which she might live became the rather pathetic divisor. The quo- tient resulted in a yearly sum which, with good judgment, would cover all her expenses, independent of the niece. But inherent caution and good sense had caused her to rent her cottage until bes JOURNAL is privileged to pre- sent this beautiful story through the courtesy of its author and of Editor Merle Crowell of the Ameri- can Magazine, in which it appeared last June. Perhaps it is no mere coincidence that much of Mrs. Al- drich’s life is associated with Cedar Falls, Iowa, where lives that veteran | educator, Homer H. Seerley, inspirer | of ten thousand graduates of Iowa | State Teachers College, over which | he has presided since 1886. There | she was born, learned to read, went | through highschool, finished college, | and taught in the primary training school of the college. In 1907 she married a banker and in 1909 moved to Elmwood, Nebraska. | Her husband died suddenly in 1925. She is now busy rearing her four | children and interpreting the life of | the great prairie area. Her books— Mother Mason (1924) and The Rim of the Prairie (1925)—are a vital part | of a growing native American litera- ture. She is well known also for her | short stories, familiar to readers of the Ladies’ Home Journal, Delineator, Woman’s Home Companion, Harper's Weekly, and other magazines. Hats off to one who has come up through the ranks! Teacher! Mother and homemaker! Interpreter of the best in our life! she could try out the visit. It was well ‘that she had done so, for although the relative’s roof was fully forty feet by fiftyeight, it had not seemed quite large enough for her. The niece had been kind—but the hus- band, and the children! Miss Miller’s sensitive soul shrank from the intrusion which she felt she made. So she had come back to the midwest town which had seen the work of her life. After all, it was home. Today she had finished settling. The old furnishings seemed cordial and friendly. She had a foolish notion that they were glad to see her. Well, she would not leave them again. All day [37] she had been settling them in their ac- customed places. It had taken a long time to put the books on the shelves, for she had visited for a few moments with each one. The Shakespeare set, a geom- etry textbook, the orations of Cicero. The Latin grammar had fallen open at “amo, amat, amamus, amatis, amant.” She smiled at the thought of the yearly struggle she had had with the freshmen to keep them from singsong- - ing it. And now tonight everything was in order, and Miss Miller sat and faced The Thing. It seemed to have devel- oped horns and cloven hoofs, to have taken on a demonlike leer. For the first time she felt genuine panic. If only she might have her old position back. She was not ill, not even so tired, since the year away. Not a faculty was impaired. To slip back into the old groove would not be at all hard. But to start in an- other town under new conditions seemed to her almost impossible. Hitherto she had brushed away all cobwebby troubles with a broom of sane philosophy. But all her keen intelli- gence, all her humor and brave spirit, could not hide The Thing which stood before her tonight. As she faced the fu- ture, she told herself that there was one final sanctuary open to her when the time came—the old people’s home which ier church supported. She had visited it once. A cold hand seemed closing around her heart as she recalled the visit. The home had been pleasant and comfort- able; but the old ladies sitting on the porch aimlessly watching the world go by were alien souls, women from whom the glow of living had departed. Two of them had been having a long and tiresome argument over their knitting. Miss Miller laughed a little to her- self. At least, if she had to go there eventually she would find plenty of things to amuse her. Pathetic roles were not meant for her. Over and over in the deepening dusk she worked on the problem of her life. If she sold her house, she would have nowhere to go. If she retained it, she amas, 38 THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpuCATION ASSOCIATION February, 1927 would not have money enough to keep her many years. She might do private tutoring, take a roomer or two. Again and again, with sweet courage, she tried to work her problem—so much harder than algebra. “Let x equal the un- known quantity,” she said bravely to herself. But there was no answer in the back of the book or anywhere. Not until God closed the book would she find what x equaled. A little boy came running around the corner of the porch with the evening paper. Breathlessly he explained his tardiness: how the cow got out and they had to catch her before he could start with his papers. Miss Miller made a sympathetic comment. She had always been fair with children. She took the paper, went inside, and turned on the light. In a big chair beside her library table she settled herself and looked at the front page. In big black headlines it called to her: Old Highschool to be Razed Work Begins June Tenth And then, because the editor was an alumnus, the third line said quite simply: “Old School, Hail and Farewell!” It affected her unaccountably, this coincidence of the building and her own life. ‘They were both through, she and the old school, both to be torn down. If Miss Miller sat idly for a long time, let no one enter into the hushed aisle of her thoughts. a a time she rose with that energetic birdlike movement which characterized her motions, got her knit- ted white shawl from the closet, and went out of the back door. Down the walk she passed through a little gate in the rear of the yard and turned down the alley to Mr. Larson’s home. That is what she had called him, in dignified courtesy, for all the years that he had been janitor of the high- school: Mr. Larson, instead of Chris. Old Chris was sitting near the back steps with his feet in the cool, dewy grass. He was tipped back in a kitchen chair against the side of the house, a sooty old pipe in his mouth. Seeing Miss Miller, he dropped his chair down on its natural legs, surreptitiously slipped the pipe into the grass, and curled his blue and white socks under his chair. That was the way Miss Miller had af- fected him for several decades. Jim Larson was there, too, with his father. Jim had been one of Miss Miller’s high- school boys, one of the few that she never seemed able to get hold of. A taciturn, gloomy-acting boy he had been, with no kindling response to her over- tures of friendship. She had done her best to draw him out, but he had grad- uated with apparently no attachment for her. He had a wife now and two babies and a harness shop. “Mr. Larson, I saw by the paper to- night that the old building is to be torn down.” Miss Miller had to make an effort to keep her voice steady. She had not realized that it was meaning so much to her. “Yes; they'll begin the tenth, I see.” Old Chris made signs to Jim to bring out another chair for the caller. Even if he retained his own seat, Old Chris knew enough to provide another. “You still have the key, I suppose, Mr. Larson?” Old Chris nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am,” he added. “T wonder if you would let me take it the evening of the ninth that last night before they begin to demolish the building. I’d just like to go over the old place for the last time with a sort of—‘We who are about to die, salute you!’”’ Old Chris had never heard of the Morituri Salutamus, but he recog- nized the emotion in Miss Miller’s voice. “You two men will laugh at me for being so sentimental?” Miss Miller questioned apologetically. “T won’t laugh at you.” Old Chris, at the risk of a conflagration in his thick woolen sock, pushed his pipe farther under the chair. “It’s got me a-feeling blue a’ready.” Before the two had finished talking Jim Larson left. “He doesn’t want to visit with me,”’ Miss Miller thought; “I never got hold of Jim.” There was a little more conversation relative to the school board’s plans, and then Miss Miller left with, “Goodnight, Mr. Larson, and thank you. I'll come for the key, so if you see someone prowl- ing around the old building don’t shoot or call out the constable.” All week the old teacher went about her simple household tasks with some- thing hanging over her. It was as though she had a meeting with a friend or a tryst with a lover, a little like a rendezvous with death. HE evening of the ninth was beauti- ful. As she stopped for the key, old Chris said, “Well, tomorrow is the day they begin. Sort o’ sad, ain’t it?” There was a moon and the heavy scent of syringa, a warm breeze, and crimson ramblers. It had the smell and feel of old commencements. At the schoolgrounds Miss Miller went up the broad front walk, worn with the steps of a thousand youthful feet. In the moonlight all discrepancies in the old building were hidden. One could not see the cracks in the brick nor the settling window frames nor the sag- ging steps. It looked sturdy, unyield- ing. It seemed to be holding up its head proudly. Like Miss Miller! She turned the key and pushed the huge iron latch which had clicked to three generations. Softly she stepped into the shadows of the lower hall. It was warm and friendly, as though it welcomed her home. She crossed the room and mounted the stairs, her hand slipping along the banister, as smooth as old ivory from the polishing of count- less human palms. Straight to the main study hall she passed—a huge room with row upon row of seats half in the moonlight and half in the shadow. Her eyes took in the familiar bookcases along one side, the dictionary stand in the corner, and the big desk on a raised platform in front, with the straight-backed chair behind it. ‘Toward the front of the room Miss Miller walked softly, as the people do in the presence of the dead. A composite picture of all the schools seemed before her. Personalities looked at her from every seat, but Miss Miller did not realize that in point of time they were sometimes twentyfive years apart. * There sat Mart Richardson, mischie- vous, indolent, even stupid in the things he did not like. Mart Richardson was a banker now, heavy-set and opulent her banker, who knew her small bank account to its last cent. There was Annie Grayson’s seat ; Annie Was a missionary in China now. Over there had sat “Red” Hamilton; “Red” was a member of the legislature, slated for Congress by his party. Here sat laughing Nan Buskirk, a happy wife and mother. Their old teacher sum- moned them back, not grown nor suc- cessful, but young and needing her. pag she circled the room, recall- ing a hundred events, funny, ex- citing, or serious. Then she turned toward an inner room, opened the door and stepped into her own office. Once . . . it had been her Gethsemane: One day she had gone in there full of happiness . and the joy of living, engaged to be married. Thc =nerintendent had come 1927 leavy and | and Tiller worn thful incies One k nor e sag- yield- head d the ed to epped ; a igh it d the hand oth as ~ount- ll she upon it and ok in le, the id the front, yehind 1 Miss do in chools looked Miller e they apart. ischie- things in was pulent v her cent. Annie Over “Red” slated re sat r wife - sum- r suc- r. recall- \y, ex turned e door Once ne day ppiness to be 1 come Vol. 16, No. 2 in to her with drawn face, and told her the heart-tearing contents of the tele- gram he was bringing. When she came out, some of her had died. The part that lived she had dedicated to her boys and girls, warming her heart at the fire of their youth, putting into her work all the love and interest she would have given to a husband and home. Miss Miller crossed the little room, opened the one window and sat down by it. The June breeze, sweet with the smell of flowering things, came in and lifted the tendrils of her gray hair. Memory went over the road of the years. After a time she summed them up— the results of the journey. Foolishly she had thought the love and admiration of her boys and girls would compensate for all her devotion. But one could not eat past love nor clothe her declining years in ancient admiration. For the first time bitterness assailed her. It was not right, not just, to give all and receive nothing. She had been a fool to think that if she gave her best, the knowledge of service rendered would be its own reward. Across the street and a block down, some evening social affair was in prog- ress. A dozen cars were gathered at the curbing, and the sound of high gay voices came from across the way. She was left out of even those events now. She had returned from the east, and only a neighbor or two had noticed. She had not been in a pupil’s home for a long time. They had forgotten her. Slow tears came, the more painful, be-, cause she had hitherto met life with high hope, deep courage, broad faith. Miss Miller raised her face to the June sky as though to hold intimate converse with some one. How foolish she had heen to think that by binding herself to Youth she could hold her own light spirits. That early dedication of hers to the lives of her pupils was all Quixotic. That old idea of carrying a torch ahead to show them the way to unrevealed truths was all wasted effort. Not only had she dedicated her life to highschool boys and girls, but also specifically to the ones of this commu- nity. Several times when she had thought to go to a larger city the junior class had prevailed upon her to stay. “Just to see us graduate,” they had pleaded, and she had been weak, soft, yielding like a mother who could not forsake a younger child. Every waking thought she had given to her pupils. There were teachers who heard lessons, and then left their responsibility, like a raincoat, hanging in the hall. She had not been able to do that. It had told on her, too. One cannot expend such energy and not age. Service, like sorrow, may beautify only the heart, not the face of a woman. She had given the best that was in her, not only that their minds should unfold, but for those other sides of their lives—the physical and moral. Strained eyes in a pupil— and she had not rested until the matter was rectified. Recurring headaches—and she had not known peace until the source was traced. And then that other thing, that elusive thing which was neither all physical nor all moral, the attachment of one for another. How she had pondered over it, questioned and advised. Many a mother, less motherly than herself, had either not sensed the danger or, having seen, had lifted no hand to guide. All this she had done for her boys and girls. And what was her reward? Poverty and loneliness. Tears came once more. Some were for her own lost youth and some were for shattered faith in humanity. ae peg in a great whirl of beating wings, a mass of pigeons flew from the bell tower, their bodies almost brush- ing the window. And then, quite plainly, the bell tapped. Miss Miller heard it distinctly, a long, low, resonant sound. Startled, she jumped and looked fur- tively behind her. She had that queer suffocating feeling that one has when he is conscious of a presence near. For the first time she felt a creepy, frightened sensation. Her heart was pounding madly. All at once the building was cold and forbidding. It was as though there were soft footfalls, phantom whisperings. The ghosts of all her yes- terdays seemed haunting the place. Was her brain addled? Had she played too long with her memories? All her poise was gone. She wanted to fly as from a tomb. It seemed now almost a physical im- possibility for her to return through that huge shadow-laden study hall. But there was no other way of egress. She must gather herself together. THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EDUCATION ASSOCIATION 39 With sheer will-power she made her- self cross the office to the door. They came again—those eerie rustlings, low murmurs, faint, mocking laughter. . There even seemed a far-away uncanny chant of “amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant.” ‘The bell tapped again, low, reverberating. The pigeons swirled past the window. With an effort Miss Miller swung open the door. If the room was full of memories they were substantial ones. If it har- bored only dreams, they were material- ized. In the moonlight she could see that the seats were full of people. The tops of the desks supported some. Others crowded the aisles. Several layers were banking themselves around the walls. “Amo, amas, amat,’ they chanted; ““amamus, amatis, amant.” Then there was laughter, high and excited. Someone said, “Oh, don’t frighten her.” And someone else said, ‘““Turn on the lights, Mart.” Blinding lights flashed on. Miss Mil- ler blinked a moment before she could distinguish the countenances. And then —they were as familiar as the faces of children to a mother. Miss Miller grasped, ‘“Why, boys and girls, what is it?” She reached out for something to steady herself and caught at the chair behind the desk. Wide- eyed, she slipped into it and gazed ques- tioningly at the sea of faces. The laughing, buzzing crowd ceased its noise, for -someone was raising his hand. It was “Red” Hamilton, sitting in his old seat and snapping his fingers. “Miss Miller, please may I speak ?” Everyone giggled nervously. But it was the Hon. A. J. Hamilton who arose and stood by the side of the seat: by prcen ago to many of us, more re- cently to others,”’ his smooth, pleas- ant voice began, “we had a loved teacher who gave the very best that was in her that we might become good men and women. Many times after leaving her we said, ‘Some day we will send her a box of flowers.’ “Tomorrow we will write her a letter.’ ‘ ‘Soon we will go to see her.’ But Time sped by on silver wings, and all the to- morrows became the yesterdays. “So tonight we have put those prom- ises to ourselves into action. All that is dross in us has melted away. All that is weak has been left behind. Only that which is best in us has come back to pay her homage. My mind is crowded with a hundred things she did for us, things that came to us forcibly only in years after, when lighted by the 40 Tue JouRNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpucaTIon ASSOCIATION experiences of our own parenthood: the way she looked after our bodies as well as our minds, the manner in which she helped us and advised us in our small troubles, the way she increased our ca- pacity for the enjoyment of good read- ing, her Shakespeare class, which incul- cated in us an undying love for the greatest of bards. I have heard the lovely throaty voice of Ethel Barrymore, and the liquid, melting tones of Julia Marlowe, but never have | heard them read with more depth of feeling than her own: Goodnight, goodnight! As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast. He dropped the third person and turned to the little lady on the platform: “Miss Miller, all the things that you did for us will never be known. ‘They cannot be counted, nor measured, nor weighed. And because this is so, we have come back tonight to tell you that many times in the midst of the world’s work we think of you, that we appreci- ate you, that as long as life lasts we will love you.” When he sat down, Miss Miller half started from the chair. But there was no opening for her to speak: another hand was swinging in midair. It was Mart Richardson, president of the First National Bank. With a great creaking of the desk he succeeded in pulling his bulk from it and rose. “I’m no speechmaker like Red here,” he began jerkily. “But down at my place of business we handle something that speaks louder than words, some- thing that really talks. Now, Miss Mil- ler, years ago you used to make out our report cards, and have us take them home to our folks to sign. I’m not mentioning the time you mailed mine to my father all year instead of giving it to me, having a sort of foolish notion that Uncle Sam would deliver it more safely than I would.” There was a general laugh, and the banker resumed: “What I’m trying to say is that turn about is fair play. Each class you graduated has a report card ready for you to sign. Each class has given you a grade and, just like our old cards, they have to be signed on the back and returned. You sign these on the back, Miss Miller, and return them to my bank tomorrow morning. All right, now. Roll call. Class of ’88.” A middle-aged farmer squeezed out from the crowd around the wall, came forward and dropped the “report card” February, 1927 into Miss Miller’s lap. It was an ob- long piece of paper, thin and white. In the upper right-hand corner a number in three figures kept close company to a dollar sign. “Class of 89!” A pleasant-faced woman rose from a front seat and laid another piece of paper in her old teacher’s lap. “Class of 90!” A. J. Hamilton went forward with the gift of his class. And each class, on to the last one Miss Miller had gradu- ated, continued the little ceremony. Thirtysix checks lay in Miss Miller’s lap—three dozen white messengers of love. a we Miss Miller,’—Mart Rich- ardson had more to say—‘“‘we wanted to give you something, tried to think what you would like best. You know people have to let out their feel- ings in presents. The boys wanted to buy up all the flowers in town, and the girls wanted to get all the candy. But we finally decided we'd just give you the money and let you make your own choice. You know, even the wise men brought gifts of gold. And I say that’s where they were wise.” There was a general laugh, and then the banker con- tinued: “But don’t think for a minute that mere dollars and cents can ever— can ever—”’ Something was going wrong with the fat speaker. His voice broke, but he rallied his forces: ‘“‘Why, when I think of all you’ve done for this community— I—I—” He ran his fingers through his hair in an impatient gesture, and then finished lamely, “Oh, pshaw! I might have known better than to try to make a speech. Let’s open the baskets now and eat.” There was another laugh. But some- one else had risen and was calling out, “Just a minute. Before we eat let’s give a vote of thanks to Jim Larson for get- ting us stirred up. ‘There isn’t one of us but was anxious to do something for you, Miss Miller; but it took Jim to have enough gumption to get us started. I know that he took several days from his business to go to every member of the alumni in town, talk over the phone to those in the country, and write a lot of letters.” . : Jim! A great warmth flooded Miss Miller. Jim Larson, whom she had never been able to get hold of! They did not ask Miss Miller to speak. For that she was very grateful. The baskets were opened and the picnic feast spread in the gymnasium. ‘There were a great many foolish pranks. Someone drew cartoons of all his class- mates, and someone else got out the old physiology skeleton. Eternal Age, pre- tending that there is no age! And Old Chris rang the bell for the last time ; the tolling of the death of the building. B” it was when they were ready to go that the last drop was poured into Miss Miller’s overrunning chalice. It was A. J. Hamilton who broached it: “A few of us have just been wonder- ing if you couldn’t come back into high- school next year, not for the principal- ship but just for the English work. You see, I’d rather you'd teach my girl what good literature is than anybody else I know. We thought maybe you'd consider it, seeing you seem so much better than when you went away.” “Why, yes, Red,’—Miss Miller flushed with the joy of it—‘I could. I feel fine. I feel as well as I ewer did.” Then they left, group by group. Miss Miller had a dozen dinner dates. Not that old indefinite, “Come to see me some time, Miss Miller,” but ‘“Tomor- row night at six” and “Next Friday, on the baby’s birthday.” Every group put the same question, “Are you ready now? We'll take you home?” And as many times she answered, “Thank you. I’m not just ready.” Even when the last group asked her, the answer was the same. It was a woman who intuitively sensed it. “Come on,” she .whispered. ‘“‘Can’t you see? She wants to be left behind.” | Down in the lower hall Miss Miller waited. Erect and smiling, she bade them all good night. Like a mother she stood, watching the last child break the tie which held it to home. Then she stepped back and climbed the stairs to the study hall. Through the moonlit room she walked quickly, definitely, like one with a duty before her. Behind the desk she stepped as though having a sacred rite to per- form. She picked up a piece of chalk, and on the blackboard, which tomorrow and other morrows would no longer be there, she wrote: For life is the mirror of king and slave, *Tis just what we are and da; Then give to the world the best you have And the best will come back to you. Then Miss Miller walked firmly down to the lower hall, passed out of the big worn door and turned the key under the latch that had clicked to a thousand youthful hands. al- irl dy wd ich ler d ” Liss Not me or- on, you she ust ler, 5 a yme ee? ller ade she the she ked uty ped er- alk, row - be e, ve the Teaching the Unity of Art Inez FiELD Damon Director of Music, State Normal School, Lowell, Massachusetts RUTH is self-existent, eternal, un- touched by opinions concerning it. Beauty is a symbol of truth, eter- nal, self-existent. A desire to achieve cer- tain ideals of beauty, pitifully meager though these ideals may be, is common to all humanity. As our opinions concerning truth do not effect truth, so our poor ideas of beauty do not effect the ab- solutism of beauty. While beauty like truth is infinite, never to be compassed, yet to awaken conscious relationships to advancing ideals of beauty, I take to be a prime function of education. That education is becoming increasingly alert to this situation is evidenced by the ex- pansion of public school music and school art courses in our curricula. “Music Appreciation” and “Art Appre- ciation’ —meaning many things to many people—are recurrent in our profes- sional vocabulary. Intentions are com- mendable but results often sterile. YWe pluck from the ether and thrust before the child, ideas sometimes beautiful but frequently unrelated to each other or to the child’s experience. Children are re- quired to listen to talking-machine rec- ords of the teacher’s choosing and inter- pretation, and to draw objects presented to them by the teacher for this purpose. The teacher may see where she came from and where she is going, but she seldom takes the child into her con- fidence.—Would it be treason to harbor the suspicion that the teacher herself may not always know ?—Though the “project method”’ may be doing its best, still, how horribly heterogeneous life must look to the average school child! While beauty as its own interpreter may chiefly be left to do its perfect work unanalyzed, nevertheless true apprecia- tion of any form of art is incomplete without personal reaction. Mere passiv- ity is never the mark of real appreciation. If this reaction can find expression in at- Thoughts M. PF. T. Who loves and longs for hills Where a clear thrush-call Echoes and the silence fills; Where quiet shadows fall In benediction: he knows a joy Which yet is sharpest pain. For storms sweep to destroy But bring life-giving rain. I Gaze on Beauty’s Splendor Lois M. BRADEN I gaze on beauty’s splendor Arrayed in blues and golds I feel a presence near me Which God, Himself, unfolds. The mist unveils a perfect dawn The skies are clear and blue, And all reveals a thought of love That comes from God to you. I gaze upon the splendor Which God, Himself, reveals, And all is calm and peaceful And reverence o’er me steals. tempted participation, perfect motiva- tion is assured. Let us assume then that music, art (graphic art) and _litera- ture are three media for the conveyance of the same message. Starting then with a concrete example of any one of the three—shall we take music first? Let us say to the child—or student (for this procedure, in measure, belongs equally in grades or college) “Draw a picture which makes you feel the same way the music makes you feel.”” “Write a poem which makes you feel the same way the music makes you feel.”” Note what happens. The child at once as- sumes that there is a personal relation- . | ‘HE second-grade child who wrote this bit of music knows the joy which comes with appreciation and knowledge of art. The poems above were written by students of the Massachusetts State Normal School. ship between him and the composition heard, and listening with care he finds himself asking “How does the music make me feel?” ‘What kind of picture —or poem—would make me feel the same way?” ‘What do | need to know about drawing—or English—to be able *to make the kind of picture—or poem It is as sim- It is found that the zest of pursuing the previously obscure se- crets of art and literature, is equalled only by the joy of the chase. The teacher instead of leading, enticing, be- guiling, finds herself panting to keep - up! Surely this quickened sense of beauty and the will to express it, is alone enough to justify these experi- ments in the transmutation of the arts! May I relate a few instances of the working out of this plan. In a fourth grade a poem ‘‘October’s Leaves” is read. ‘Three numbers are played on the talking-machine, one number being “The Whirlwind.” The children un- erringly choose “The Whirlwind” as best representing the spirit of the poem. Children then follow with pencils on paper the rhythmic and melodic sweep of the music. They sketch rapidly— crudely of course—their visualization of the swirling vari-colored leaves. Later in a lesson on design their “swirls” be- come a rhythmic pattern, the motif, a leaf. In a similar way in a sixth grade, the children jotting down the long and short note values of MacDowell’s “To a Wild Rose” worked out a rhythmic pattern. The motif was obviously a rose. This led to the study of rose patterns, imitative, conventional, tradi- tional. Some children preferred one, some another. Some even invented a —which I wish to make ?” ple as this. 42 THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpUCATION ASSOCIATION February, 1927 form. ‘The full blossom on the long stroke, with a leaf or bud on the short seemed to be a common inspiration. On one occasion at the time of a fourth grade music lesson, a sudden ter- rific downpour dashing against the win- dows absorbed the attention of the class. The teacher, bethinking herself, wrote upon the blackboard Stevenson’s lines: The rain is raining all around It falls on field and tree. It rains on the umbrellas here And on the ships at sea. Thereupon the game of composing a tune for these lines, and writing out the music, became an engrossing one. Each child was given opportunity to sing his original tune for the first two lines, the best tune being chosen by the vote of the class. A similar procedure was fol- lowed for the second half of the stanza. A valiant little fellow in offering his tune for the second half, began by say- ing, “I want to make it start off just like hers, but I s’pose it’s wrong!’— referring to the little girl who had con- tributed the opening phrase. Thus did his sense of form and balance conflict with his scruples against plagiarizing! Children throughout the grades are required to become familiar with a cer- tain number of wellknown compositions. Many of them keep notebooks in which they place the name and theme of the composition, a picture of the composer with the date of his birth, and some pic- ture which seems to them to illustrate the mood of the musical number. They never seem to tire of searching maga- zines for these pictures. A little sixth grade boy of European birth, who seemed very forlorn and to lack con- spicuously cultural background, could get no magazines from which to cut his pictures, so drew his own-——a woman praying before an altar for “O Rest in the Lord,” a farmer pausing in his hoe- ing to look up into a tree at a singing bird, for “Hark! Hark! the Lark.” A little girl brought a picture of two laughing children coasting down hill in a snowstorm for Raff's “Cavatina.” When questioned as to the connection between the two, she replied with a pa- tient tolerant smile, ‘““Why, the music is happy, so are the children!” So, again, the human child (like the human adult) is the sum of his own experience and wise is the teacher who can see life through childhood’s lens—and leave it there! As to this work carried on with older school students: in a_ state normal three contrasting compositions were played without title explanation or com- ment of any sort, to two groups of stu- dents. One group had been provided previously with a limited drawing vo- cabulary which might be useful. No hint as to the reason for that vocabulary was given at the time. The other group Ard the happy children Singing, Thew new year song, 6 ipo spirit of the New Year in- spired a sixth-grade child to write this original song, then to set it to music and illustrate it. came entirely unprepared. The com- positions played were the Chopin Waltz in G flat major, that portion of the first movement of Tschaikowsky’s Sixth Symphony containing the Andante theme, and Rhapsodie Guerriere by Sinding. The students were directed to make a sketch—crude if need be—which should evoke the same mocd as the musi- cal number. Those who felt incapable of attempting a sketch could state what they would like to draw if they could. As was expected, those who had the previous drawing vocabulary used it, while those who had it not, went to suc- ceeding classes eager for knowledge and skill with which to express their ideas. Many of the results were delightful. On another occasion a member of the senior class placed upon the blackboard a charming bit of color landscape, dis- tant mountains purple against the sky, quiet water, with tall grasses in the foreground. Glints of gold from a sun- set afterglow touched mountain peaks and water. ‘She suggestion was made to the students that any who wished might write a poem expressing the mood of the picture. A considerable number of poems was brought in, all showing a sensitiveness to the message of the pic- ture. Certain of these poems were then passed on to the members of the music supervisors training class, each mem- ber being asked to choose a poem and write for it a suitable music setting. Suffice it to say that each amateur com- poser caught in a superior way the pur- pose of the work in hand. The mechan- ical means for such expression gave real life to the classes in form and harmony. Here is one of the poems: Thoughts Who loves and longs for hills Where a clear thrush-call Echoes and the silence fills; Where quiet shadows fall In benediction: he knows a joy Which yet is sharpest pain. For storms sweep to destroy But bring life-giving rain. An article of this sort whose bound- aries do not permit of ample specimens of concrete results may seem threadbare, but after all, are the concrete results more than byproducts? The real results are certainly in the hearts and minds of the children and students who are learn- ing to love, recognize, and express beauty and its inexorable and universal laws. EAUTY IN EDUCATION—The inborn love of beauty in the human struggles for expression. The window of a tenement house with its box of greenery goes to prove that it exists and seeks to live. The gaudy colored prints on the wall of a negro cabin testify to the same truth. Weak, crude, elemental as the expression is, it is surprising to find in places most unlikely a longing for the artistic. Such evidence suggests that the love of the beautiful is potentially in every human heart, though crushed it may be by many forces, and often dying of starvation. Should not the hungry be fed and the opportunity for satisfaction be given before it is too late? If beauty is to bring the desired effect, it must be adapted to the child’s plane of development and must answer to his need. In both form and content it must correspond to his life, and so call forth a response. This does not mean that it should be lowered to a child’s immediate whim and taste; if this were true, little beauty might remain! Superficial lik- ings are not to be considered. The guide for selection is not to be what a child thinks he wants, but innate tendencies that will respond to certain stimuli and not at all to others must be reckoned with.—FREDERICA BEARD. nd- ens ire, ilts ilts _ of rmn- ress rsal orn nan low of and ints r to ntal r to for that y in 1 it ying y be tion fect, lane » his nust orth at it liate ittle lik- uide hild rcies and oned The Story of the Alphabet’ Otto F. Ecre The Cleveland School of Art, Cleveland, Ohio 0 YOU KNOw your A B C’s? Each letter character has a his- tory and a reason for its present form. Have you ever questioned the origin and significance of the alphabet? Our transition from barbarism to civ- ilization can be attributed to the alpha- bet. Those great prehistoric discoveries and inventions such’ as the making of a fire, the use of tools, the wheel and the axle, and even our modern marvelous applications of steam and electricity pale into insignificance when compared with the power of the alphabet. Simple as it now appears after the accustomed use of ages, it can be accounted not only the most difficult, but also the most fruitful of all the achievements of the human intellect. Man lived by “bread alone” and with- out the alphabet untold ages, and with a practical alphabetic system not more than 3000 years. So important and won- derful was this step deemed by those who lived nearer the time of its incep- tion—in the time before the wonder of its extraordinary powers had been blunted by long possession and common use—that its invention, as well as that of writing, was invariably attributed to divine origin. Modern investigation always seeks sources other than mythological ones, and thus the science of ancient hand- writing, paleography, came into exist- ence. In the last hundred twentyfive years the writing of the ancient Egyp- tians, which was a “sealed book” for nearly twenty centuries, has been de- eiphered through the efforts of Champol- lion and Young; the mysterious cunei- form characters of ancient Assyria and Babylon have been interpreted by Groto- fend and Rawlinson, and the “missing link” to connect our present alphabetic system to these ancient ones is being partly completed by Sir Arthur Evans, who is compiling and analyzing Cretan —_—_—_——. “Reprinted from an art booklet copyright by Normal T. A. Munder Company, Balti- more, Maryland, and used by courteous per- mission. The border on p. 45 was prepared by Edward B. Edwards and is from a booklet by the same publisher, Pre-alphabet Days. It is Early Chinese. The development of the alphabet is one of the great achievements of the race. Genealogy of Our Letters from. the Phoenician Alphabet 1300 B.C. Phomician 132?-12° BC. |Greck 729-seenc DBC] Evolution of palic Seript mgmengyuge | Pag mere | mame fe nse ono RA sox Aug |A A dyinfA an [A A alalala| [2G -tesesah [IB Bea [B Sy [Bb ble fo le P77} wane Gone | 1 Goml @_ Key | Cc ce fe fe fe | A door Oa] AS daa [D_Dy| pd d]e|d fa! Stet rtetrta “4 stom van | YF Goma POF IF Ff Fle IF T¢ SBA CLI UTA CZ wre dH -ma cum) @ Ht |H Hm] H h_n]d [a Arhund Yoo [Tt tom [tT ee ft « cli fz ie] ‘CRANES SI, oe POM Eh | LA pm Kagh | AK Kum] Kh TKK kp Tk [4] pbb ewhip Lumd AN tonto} | ot PLL ttt [ae [7] DA mane on [MM ua [M_ Em [MO m] m [im [ml ‘94 tn “tan [Nowe [Nm A N nfo [nln | O_O wo Ayin [OO onicm| O on [O_o eo Ts [oe |e} ee oe EY Pp Fir D_Q_=Ni Koph | DO Kepoa | Q_aiq Para q 4 -mad Rech Rrr ri] | WW swath snin | 3 £ Sigml S Ess] S Ff s | # | 3] 4] Xf ww Tae | LT Tu [T Ty] tC ¢ tie [ele PY ein V0 Ve Pw fea] ree oe ee. iV_iv vio ]yi{e es es ee © ES cpt reel te be CERT Cee ein Y U TY Y yiv il yi¥¢i ren ae a ee a characters and pre-Phoenician writing. The story, however, will probably never be told in its entirety. The forms of our letters, with the ex- ception of G, J, U, W, reached their full development two thousand years ago. The Roman letter was the parent of all the styles notwithstanding the diversity that has appeared in Europe since the beginning of the Christian era. With a little imagination it is not dif- ficult to note the resemblance between similar letters of the old Roman capitals and those following that have been desig- nated as script, italic, Old English or black letter, versal, uncial, and an end- less list of alphabet families. The desire for speed, and the influence of the tool, pen, reed, chisel, brush, were the deter- mining factors in the change of form. Curiously enough instead of being archaic, the Roman alphabet, which is now 2000 years old, is still the most useful because of its legibility, and also the most beautiful. We derived twentythree of our letters from the Romans. They had taken probably eighteen of these from the Greeks about the fourth century B..C. and afterwards borrowed elsewhere or invented seven more. Instead of giving them names as the Greeks did, they simply called them by the sounds for which they stood: A (ah), B (bay). They introduced the curve wherever possible, whereas the early Greek letters were all angular—what an interesting [43] analogy is evident in the architecture of those two peoples, the temple pediment and angularity of the Greeks as con- trasted with the dome and arch of the Romans. The Greeks, in their contact with those great traders and “Yankees of an- cient time,’ the Phoenicians, saw the value of their alphabetic writing and inaugurated its use about the' time of the first Olympiad, 776 B. C. Three or four centuries before they gave it to the Romans the ancient Greeks found use for fifteen of the Phoenician letters and then conceived enough to round out an alphabet of twentyfour characters. The changes that took place in the shape of their letters can be attributed to their sense of order; the letters are balanced better and the parts better related. The Greeks were interested in the sound value only, not in the picture value of the symbol, and, therefore, they probably did not notice that A, for in- stance, had ever been a picture of the head of an ox and that it was now drawn upside down; and that the Phoenician name “‘Alpeh’’ meant ox and that they mispronounced the sound in calling it “Alpha.” The Romans borrowed from _ the Greeks and the Greeks had borrowed from the Phoenicians, but where did the Phoenicians obtain their letters? Did they invent them? To what extent were these letters influenced by earlier sys- tems of writings as those employed by the Cretan, Assyrian and Egyptian civ- ilizations? “These are questions that probably will never be answered satis- factorily. Many arguments and theories are advanced. We can, however, trace back with certainty a number of our letters to the Phoenician alphabet of 1000 B. C. Beyond this all is, at present, a matter of conjecture. The Phoenician alphabet consisted of twentytwo pictures of familiar objects. These pictures were rudely and simply made, for writers and readers soon rec- ognized the fundamental characteristics and all unnecessary details were elimi- nated. The great advance that can be credited to them is that they realized that a small number of sound-expressing characters, if well selected, are sufficient to express any word. Other races at this 5 PLL LEED GA) oe RTL OF SS PET EP eS 44 period had phonetic systems but they consisted of numerous symbols and cum- bersome appendages of non-alphabetic characters—“eye pictures” side by side with “ear pictures.” No doubt earlier Phoenician writing passed through the stages of development traceable in so many countries: 1. The pictures or characters suggest- ing the thing or incident (picture writ- ing). 2. The pictures or characters sym- bolizing the thing or idea (ideographic or symbolic writing). 3. The pictures or characters rep- resenting the sound of the thing or idea (phonograms ). 4. The sign suggesting the various sounds of the language (alphabetic sys- tem). To free this last stage from the others was the great Phoenician contribution. A—Why is A the first letter? It rep- resents one of the commonest vowel sounds in ancient languages. Naturally the Phoenician alphabet makers selected a familiar object in the name of which this particular vowel sound was em- phasized. Since food is of primal im- portance, it is not surprising to find that he chose the ox—‘‘Alef” (ah’lef), or rather the head of the ox, for the char- acteristics of animals are chiefly em- bodied in the head. Not only was the ox important as food but also as a beast of burden, for the ox had been harnessed to the plow centuries before the horse was domesticated. Thus one of the earliest and most important of man’s friends among the brute creatures was honored. In making this letter repeatedly and rapidly they became careless and instead of crossing the letter V they tried to ‘make it with one continuous scratching, hence when the Greeks became ac- quainted with it three to five centuries after its invention, the picture had de- teriorated almost beyond recognition. They introduced balance and the V was inverted, and the cross-bar was retained between the lines. Unknowingly they were drawing the ox head upside down; and it remains so with us to this day. The Greeks called the first letter alpha, the Romans called it A (ah) and we call it A (ay), a sound it never pos- sessed in Latin. B—The second letter of the alphabet represents a crude house, roughly out- lined. After food, shelter is an im- portant consideration and this fact was THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpucaTion AssociATION expressed by the early alphabet maker. The Greeks again were ignorant of the picture and careless or indifferent as to the exact name of the character, and thus two triangles instead of the square supporting a triangle were made and the name changed from “beth” to “beta” (ba’ta). Combine the Greek names for the first two letters and we have (alpha- beta) “alphabet.” The Romans short- ened the name “beta,” calling it B (bay) and introduced the curved loops. The original name is familiar to us through names found in the Scriptures: Bethel (house of God) and Bethlehem (house of bread). CA4G—The “ship of the desert,”’ the camel, gave its name to the third letter. Our name for this animal is traceable back to the Phoenician “‘gimel” (ghe’- mel) or “‘gamel” (gah’mel). The long neck and the peculiar angle of the neck in relation to the head could easily be represented. The Greeks made changes similar to those in other letters—they improved the shape and changed the name to “gamma.” The Romans did not forget the curve and gave it both the hard and soft sounds (kay and gay). Later on, about the third century A. D., to distinguish the “g’ sound from the ‘“k”’ sound they added a little bar below the opening. Thus we get both C and G from the picture of the camel. Stevenson said that when he was a child the capital G always impressed him as a genii swooping down to drink out of a handsome cup. Kipling’s story of the invention of the alphabet is filled with similar delightful stories of the picture origin of letter forms. D—rThe next letter D, came from a representation of a door—‘“daleth” (dahleth). It probably pictures the door of atent. A custom that prevails among the Arabs and in a number of countries gave particular importance to the door of a tent—a stranger, or even an enemy, if he entered through the door of a tent must receive food, drink, and shelter. “Daleth” became “delta” with the Greeks and D (day) with the Romans, who, of course, rounded the angle. E—The house picture gave us B, the door, D, and the window, E. “He” (hay) meant to look, to see, or window, and one writer asserts our familiar street cry “hey, there” can be traced to these ancient times. One side bar of the window was lost early. The Greeks at first used this sound February, 1927 for the long “e”’ (epsilon) but after- wards employed the character H or “eta” for the long sound. The Romans at first made no change except to call it “eh.” This is the letter that occurs so fre- quently in English words, and many no doubt recall the interesting use that Poe makes of this fact in his story “The Gold Bug.” F—our letter order does not agree with that of the Phoenicians or the early Greeks. Our sixth letter, F, is missing in classical Greek, but it is found in earlier writings. It comes from a Phoenician representation of a hook or nail (?) “vau.’”’ The Hebrew form re- sembles the latter object. The nail was important in shipbuilding, a common in- dustry of the early traders. When the Greeks used this letter they called it “digamma”’ (double gamma) and _ its form represented one “gamma” (Greek c) superimposed over the other. The Romans called it F (ef) and during the reign of Emperor Claudius the con- sonant V was represented by the F in- verted. This was done because the Latin alphabet had but one character to represent U and V and OCTAVIA became OCTAAIA. H—Two fence posts and three horizon- tal boards gave us our eighth letter, H. The fence was called “cheth” (haith). The Greeks omitted the upper and lower boards thus making it like our H, and called it “eta” (ata). The Romans gave it a soft sound H (hah) just as we do today. [-J—The parts of the human body also played an important part in giving form to the letters of the alphabet. The early peoples recognized the value of the hand and the head and these members gave rise to the letters I and K, and Q and R respectively. The hand in profile bent at the knuckles and wrist gives us the character “yod” (the hand) as used by the Phoenicians. The Greeks, who always liked to have their words end in vowels, added “‘a” and called it “Iota” (e-o’ta). When the Romans. received it, it was simply a vertical stroke, I (ee) which represented the same long “ee” sound as it did with the Greeks, but later they used it both as a consonant and vowel, differentiating the consonant by making the letter I longer, J; but they did not give a distinct letter form for the capital J until the sixteenth century. Pp. 10 € 1€ Vol. 16, No.2 The small j came into being nearly a century later. The dot over the i was first introduced in a thirteenth century manuscript. K.—The silhouette of the open hand, with its radiating lines, discloses the origin of the letter K, “kaph,” which signified hollow or palm. We know that palmistry was practiced by the an- cients, and probably the association of reading the hand and writing influenced the inclusion of this character. The Greeks added their favorite vowel sound, “a” again and thus obtained their “Kappa.” The Romans had no need for this letter at first, as C furnished the same sound. When they did accept it, they made no change. L—tThe ox goad or whip lash, “lamed” (lah med) gave rise to the next letter. Herding oxen and sheep was the impor- tant occupation of the slaves of the Phoenicians and hence the lash, an object so unfamiliar to us, was easily recog- nized by them. The Greeks again added an “a” and called it “lambda” and made it in the form of an inverted V. The Romans, strangely, adhered much more closely to the original form than did the Greeks. M-N ~The Phoenicians were lovers of the sea, and from this source two let- ters were derived, M and N. They ex- plored not only all of the Mediterranean shore at an early date, but they also sailed boldly through the gates of Gi- braltar, and “beyond the world” where they found Britain. They were the first navigators that sailed by night and it is said they discovered the north star. Therefore it is not surprising that water “mem” (maim) is the source of M and that fish, “nun’’ (noon) the source of N. The letter M has changed but little in form, it is the Greek letter “Mu” and the Roman M (em). The head of the fish, from which the letter N is pic- tured, was simplified even more than the head of the ox, in A. It no doubt represents the fisherman’s viewpoint— not a swimming fish but a suspended one. The Greeks reversed the stroke and called it ““Nu’’ and the Romans did not change its form but called it N (en). O—in Phoenicia, as in Egypt, China and Mexico, the eye is one of the com- monest elements found in the writing. It was called “Ayin” (ah-yin). The Greeks used it for two sounds now desig- nated by “Omicron,” little ‘‘o,” and “omega,” great ‘“‘o,” the letter which, strangely, was\placed at the end of the Greek alphabet. We find in the Bible: “IT am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.” How many today would think of using the alphabet for such an important illustration? It is easy to trace the Roman O (oh) from its Greek parent, “‘omicron.” P—Many letter pictures run in pairs—finger and hand, water and fish— and now after eye we find mouth “pi” (pe) which represents the lower lip. The Greeks made little change in the name or shape at first, but later they introduced the angles and made the downward strokes equal. The Romans formed the letter by continuing the curve farther than the Pheenicians and called it “pe” (pay). Q-R—Now we come to Q and R, the letters which were mentioned above as those probably coming from the head. Whether Q (koph) was derived from the picture of the back view of the head and neck, or whether it represents a knot, which, no doubt, was as important to navigators then as it is now, is a mooted question. The Q sound is gut- tural and the tail of the letter is sup- posed to indicate the throat sound. The Greeks soon discarded “koppa,” as it was called, and the Romans went back to the original source for their Q (koo). The back view of the head is the un- usual one for as we look at the drawing of the early races, or memory pictures, or the delineations of a child of seven or eight we find they are almost without exception profile pictures. The Phe- nician “resh” represents the profile and shows very little resemblance to a hu- man being, although at first the features may have been more clearly indicated. The Greeks, as was to be expected, THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpuUCATION ASSOCIATION 45 turned the letter around, and later, oddly enough, introduced a curve mak- ing it exactly like the Roman letter P. The extra stroke which we find in the Roman letter was no doubt due to the carelessness in copying. They pro- nounced it R (air). S—tThere is a common legend explain- ing S, the letter with the hissing sound. Because of its curved shape and its hiss- ing sound many people believe it to be derived from a snake. Its real history is easily followed from Phoenician “‘shin’’ or “sin” (teeth) to the present day. Its form closely resembled our W. The Greeks made it perpendicular for their “sigma”? and the Romans simplified and curved it giving S (ess). "T—our twentieth letter, T, is par- ticularly interesting because it is derived’ from “tahv’” a mark or cross made by people who could not write, and no doubt their signature frequently resem- bled it. We must not forget that even Charlemagne and other kings of the middle ages had to make their mark or trace their initials through stencil plates. The only change of “tahv” to Greek “tau,” and to Roman T (tay) was the raising of the cross bar. U-V-Y-—The letters U, V and Y were all taken from the letter “Upsilon,” and it may have been derived from the queer Hebrew form of “Ayin” which closely resembles Y. The letters U and V were interchangeable. Upsilon, known as the “Samian letter,” was used by Pythagoras as an emblem to represent the parting of the ways—the young man making a choice in life. W —our Anglo-Saxon forefathers con- tributed two letters, W (wen) and another often confused with Y, called “thorn.” These were introduced during the thirteenth century. The French al- ways called the former letter double vay, and in English it may be said to represent double U, as its name indicates. The letter “thorn” had the value of the digraph “th,” and “ye” in old English should be pronounced “the” like the definite article. 46 X-Z -Although we have no direct need for the letter X, for Z can be sub- stituted for it when it is used as an initial letter, and ‘“‘ks’’ when used elsewhere, it has remained in the alphabet since its frequent use by the Greeks. It came from the Roman X (eex) which may have been derived from the Greek “‘ksi.”’ The latter character Phoenician “samech,” meaning a post or resembles the support. The dagger ‘“zayin” from which we obtain our Z must have been important in the daily lives of the Greeks, Hebrews, and Phoenicians for it occupies the sixth place (Zeta) and the seventh in the lat- ter alphabets. ‘The did not change its name or shape, but although there has been little change in 2000 years we see little resemblance to the short in the letter the Romans sword Romans gave to us. Many slight changes that have oc- curred in the formation of the letters of the alphabet may be accounted for. At first the Greeks wrote from left to right in one line and from right to left i r ; e $ : fT ee , ot 3S | am, , ; THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpucATION ASSOCIATION February, 1927 on the next line—a mode of writing which has been termed “‘boustrophedon” because it runs as an ox plow does in a field, up one furrow and down another. It is due to this tact that many letters were reversed from their original proto- types. It is interesting to note that re- cently books for the blind have been em- bossed in this manner. The small letters of the alphabet, sometimes called “lower case” letters be- cause printers keep them in a case below the capitals, or “minuscule letters’ in contrast with “majuscule,” or capital letters, illustrate further changes due to rapid writing of capitals in a cursive or running hand. The few characters selected by the Phoenicians, the great traders, artificers and farmers of the ancient world, not only influenced Greek literature and life, Roman and modern nations in Europe, but also spread eastward to the very walls of China. The Hebrews copied them as a whole and retained the orig- inal names with only slight variations. They did change the shapes because a F , ) _——— different writing instrument was em- ployed. According to a legend, Jehovah gave the letters to Moses, hence all the left curves in Hebrew letter form turn up- ward—as symbols of a finger pointing heavenward. The Phoenician alphabet is also the parent of the Arabic, Indian, Javanese, Corean, Tibetan, Coptic syllabaries and alphabets. No small country ever gave such a great gift to humanity; no large country could have given a greater gift. E he scientific investigator and the scholar has his own peculiar re- He finds a few like-minded per- sons to cooperate with him. Scientific research is not simply a solitary indul- gence of infrequent and eccentric indi- viduals. Little drops of knowledge coalesce into bigger drops, and odds and ends of detailed information gradually get shifted into patterns of great interest and beauty. For the world proves to be indefinitely investigable-—James Harvey Robinson. wards. HIS PICTURE was taken in front of the headquarters building of the National Education Association, Washington, D. C. It is a record of a conference of secretaries of our state associations and the officers of the National Education Association (December 9-11, 1926). Frank E. Reynolds, Ohio; Reading from left to right the faces are J. W. Crabtree, Washington, D. C.; Harold A. Allan, Wash- ington, D. C.; B. H. McIntosh, Wyoming; Stanley R. Oldham, Massachusetts; Virginia; rear, E. G. Doudna, Wisconsin; W. N. Taylor, Mississippi; C. J. Heatwole, Virginia; front, Mary McSkimmon, Massa- chusetts; middle, Uel W. Lamkin, Missouri; rear, J. P. Coates, South Carolina; R. C. Moore, Illinois; fromt, Francis G. Blair, Illinois; rear, John K. Norton, Washington, D. C.; J. P. Womack, Arkansas; front, Charl Williams, Washington, D. G.. 700", J. Herbert Kelley, Pennsylvania; front, William M. Davidson, Pennsylvania; rear, Charles F. Pye, lowa; S. D. Shankland, Wash- ington, D. C.; front, Margaret M. Alltucker, Washington, D. C.; middle, C. G. Schulz, Minnesota; rear, Ernest T. Cameron, Mich- igan; Jule B. Warren, North Carolina; Charles O. Williams, Indiana; N. E. Steele, North Dakota; Harriett M. Chase, Washington, D. C.; Helen Moore, Washington, D. C.; front, Agnes Winn, Washington, D. C.; rear, Joy Elmer Morgan, Washington, D. C. W. W. Trent, West bi

w Drills built according to these specifi- cations will effectively reduce the high cost of forgetting. What are the chief demands of the newer methods of arithmetic teaching?— Briefly they include these points: 1. Problems must be based on reality—of interest to the pupil and of social value. . Instruction in a new topic should be of the “ladder” type, graded in difficulty from easy to hard, or from simpler to more elaborate operations. 3. Time should be spent in computing rather than in copying. Mimeographed or printed practice sheets will reduce the eye strain and tedium that come from copying numbers. A pupil should not be made to copy ali numbers he uses in computation. 4. Pupils should be encouraged to verify each. new process by those already learned. Accuracy demands checking of results. “Answers” to problems are m0 longer included in arithmetic texts. [0 stead pupils are supposed to verify thei work by checking it. 5. Motive for drills should be provided. Speed, as well as accuracy, should be one of the objectives of drill. Drills should be built according to definite specifications. 6. Topics should be organized from the poimt of view of the learner—Marcaret M ALLTUCKER. nN Drill small drill. 10uld pupil ay. ds so ‘ough $ im- ed in ye ar- prob- indi- yecifi- high f the 1g? — ty—of value. be of ficulty ler to rather od or he eye opying ade to tation. verify ready ing of are no S$. In- y their ovided. be one ould be rions. e point LET Dallas strikes the keynote of Texas, and so furnishes a happy introduc- tion to the largest of the states. This is a southern state, yet it is strikingly dif- ferent from most of the Old South. So, too, it is a western state; yet it is not the west of Arizona, nor even of Ne- braska or Colorado. There is a blending of the southern and the western spirit in Texas, and Dallas exemplifies it excellently. The visitor is likely to find the evi- dences of southern influences in little things: unusual words, pronunciation, mannerisms difficult to catalog or ana- lyze. Objectively the southern locale will be most obviously disclosed by the thousands of bales of cotton that jam freight platforms and the wagonloads of the bales encountered on the streets; and by the large number of negroes in the population. A generation or so ago there was still much in the physical appearance of Dallas to tell of its western character. Architecturally there were hold-overs from the false-fronts of the pioneer era; the paraphernalia of the cow country was to be seen on every hand. But Dallas has put all that behind her. One finds her westernism today only in in- tangible things: a certain virility of ex- pression; an impulse toward cama- taderie that spurns too great formality. But for the most part Dallas is metro- politan, and its people have taken to metropolitan ways quite as naturally as their forebears took to the saddle. Some observers have found a third ingredient in the Dallas blend and have Pronounced it, in fact, little more than a northern city in a southern setting. While that is going rather far, there is an undeniable spirit of what the north- erner would call “Yankee progress,” abroad in Dallas. Despite the sixty years that have rolled by since the Civil War, it would be more diplomatic to label this, ‘American energy,” for “Yankee” has connotations of its own in the south even today. Dallas, like many of its fellow Ameri- can cities, has grown with great rapidity from hamlet to metropolis. When Texas entered the union in 1846, the | ONE IMPORTANT respect at least, “This article was prepared for THe Jour- NAL by the National Geographic Society, Washington, D. C. The State of Six Flags population of Dallas consisted of less than a dozen families. It was then on the very edge of civilization with Indian country beyond, and only occasional Copyright Underwood and Underwood AR rerone DAN MOODY of Texas, who will welcome the members of the Department of Superintendence when they meet in Dallas on February 28. wagon trains connecting it with the more settled country to the east. The town was named for George M. Dallas, Vice- president under President Polk, from 1845 to 1849. After the first railroads were laid from the east in the seventies, the town became the starting point for a vast hauling service to all the surrounding country. Wagons jammed the streets, and it was necessary to appoint rather rough and ready special police to un- tangle the horse-drawn vehicles where uniformed traffic officers and flashing lights perform that service today. This function as a great distributing center assumed by the little town when it numbered its inhabitants in four figures remains with Dallas today and has been the principal factor in its growth to a city of 200,000 population. It feeds and clothes and fills the other varied needs of more than a million people, and in turn is the market place for the cotton, grain and much other produce of this multitude. Within a hundred miles of Dallas, one tenth of the world’s cotton is grown, and more [57] than a million and a half bales of it pass through the hands of Dallas busi- ness men each year. Within the past two decades real estate values have increased to such an extent in the heart of Dallas that it has soared upward and now has just such a forest of skyscrapers as marks the cen- ter of many another large American city. Like most other southern and western cities, Dallas is predominantly a city of individual homes. To find homes, each surrounded by its lawn and shrubbery, one must go, in New York, to Long Island or Westchester County; in Chi- cago, to Evanston or Oak Park. Not so in Dallas. The long rows of attached houses, so obvious in Baltimore and Washington and other eastern cities, have not invaded Dallas. Apartment houses, some of them huge structures, have begun to appear, but they strike only a minor note in this city of detached homes. Handsome residences, grouped on the hills at the edge of the city, show the presence of much wealth in Dallas. Fort Worth, one of the five largest cities of Texas, lies only thirty miles to the west of Dallas, and the twin munici- palities maintain a sometimes friendly, sometimes acrimonious rivalry, such as that between the country’s other notable twins: Minneapolis and St. Paul, and Seattle and Tacoma. Fort Worth was far behind Dallas in population until a decade or so ago; but since the develop- ment of a great petroleum industry in northern and middle western Texas, and the establishment of refineries and ad- ministrative headquarters in Fort Worth, the latter has grown surprisingly and is now probably not more than 30,000 or 40,000 behind its rival. Although only thirty miles farther toward the setting sun than Dallas, Fort Worth is much more markedly a western city. While Dallas was more and more taking on its character as a distributing and marketing center for the farmer, Fort Worth was identifying itself with the livestock industry to the west. The establishment in the city a generation ago of huge packing houses by the chief packing companies of the country accentuated this movement. Today, Fort Worth ranks second among the livestock markets States. With the development of the petro- leum industry and the pressing westward of the United 58 THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpUCATION ASSOCIATION of the farmer, Fort Worth’s atmosphere of metropolis of the Texas cow countiy has been colored by other activities. But the western tang has by no means been eradicated. Thousands of ranchmen and cowboys still are drawn to Fort Worth as their nearest big city when they feel the urge to have a brief fling at city life. In Fort Worth, too, a number of pros- perous ranch owners have town homes. There is considerable manufacturing in Fort Worth aside from that con- nected with the packing industry, and it is also important as a distributing center. The difference in a business way be- tween Dailas and its near neighbor seems to be that while both have impor- tant distributing and manufacturing ac- tivities, the emphasis is more on distribu- tion in Dallas, and on manufacturing in Fort Worth. One of Fort Worth’s most interesting establishments is the United States helium extraction plant. In it is produced all of that rare and valuable gas needed for the dirigible balloons of the army and navy. Rail- ways, an electric interurban line, and an excellent highway connect Dallas and Fort Worth, and the trip between the two cities can be made quickly at all hours. Although Dallas and Fort Worth furnish a happy introduction to Texas, they do not tell the whole story. Texas has many facets, and it is only by passing these varied sides in view that one may obtain an adequate idea of this state which has always loomed so big geo- graphically and which in recent years has been rapidly catching up with its area in population, production, and wealth. The unusual history of Texas cannot be overlooked in this hasty view for it affects the character of the state today. Texas was not one of the original Thir- teen States that banded together to form the union; but it has a status that places it closer to those thirteen founding states than any of the other commonwealths that joined after the union was a going concern. And this status makes Texas unique among all her associates. She existed for ten years as a full fledged independent republic with all the ma- chinery of nationhood. At Austin, the republic’s capital, and now the capital of the state, were gathered ministers and envoys from the United States, France, Great Britain, Sweden, and several other countries; and the forms and amenities of world diplo- macy were carried out punctiliously in the little capital. Traditions still linger of the efforts of the French and British ministers to gain the greater influence with the young republic, and of the watchfulness of the envoy from the United States to see that no loopholes were opened to facilitate an attack on the Monroe Doctrine. There is also memory of the opéra bouffe incident of the pigs of a tavern keeper that so annoyed the French min- ister that he asked for his passports. Austin was then not much different from Washington of the same period, a world capital of mud streets and rather primi- tive conveniences. But one must push farther back into time to realize the richness of Texas’ history. The commonwealth is often called ‘““The state of six flags.” But era by era the sovereignties have been seven. First comes the period of French claim by virtue of a colony planted on the Texas coast by. Chevalier La Salle in 1685. The French flag waved only a little while. La Salle’s colony was abandoned and in 1718 the Spaniards, penetrating from Mexico, founded the first of their combined missions and garrisons at what is now the city of San Antonio. For more than 100 years the Spanish flag flew over Texas, to be replaced in 1821 by the Mexican banner when Mexico won her independence from Spain and fell heir to the latter’s posses- sions north of the Rio Grande. American colonization began in Texas with the advent of the Mexican Repub- lic and continued rapidly during the decade and a half that that government’s flag remained aloft north of the Rio Grande. There was trouble between the new settlers and the Mexicans from the first, and when the Americans num- bered perhaps twenty or thirty thousand they began their war of independence, and defeating the Mexican armies, won their freedom in 1836. It was then that the Republic of Texas was organized, to exist until, on February 16, 1846, the Stars and Stripes were raised in front of the old capital of the republic in Austin marking the for- mal entry of Texas into the United States. But this raising of the fifth flag of sovereignty in Texas was not the final major flag incident in the state’s history. When the other southern states seceded in 1861, Texas joined them and for four years functioned under the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy. Finally, on October 13, 1865, the Stars and Stripes were once more raised over Texas. February, 192] Texans are proud of their rich history, of their declaration of independence, and of their separate nationhood. They show this today by their pride in the old Lone Star flag of the republie, which is now the state flag. This banner utilizes red, white, and blue in a simple but most effective way. The third of the flag next to the staff is a vertical band of blue, in its center a single, large, white star. The forward two thirds is made up of two horizontal bands, the upper white, the lower red. The Lone Star flag is used constantly throughout the state in decorations on gala occasions, and it flies, of course, over the state buildings. Texas’ historic past affects the spirit of the people and their government in many ways, but it also affects the state materially in one very important respect. When Texas entered the union she did so virtually through a treaty between individual nations. One provision of this contract was that Texas should re- tain all her public lands. Like a wealthy heiress she kept her great dowery in her own name. In the western states which passed through the territorial stage, the federal government owned all the pub- lic lands, and in many of them these holdings are still vast. In Texas Uncle Sam has never owned a foot of land save those small lots and tracts that have been deeded to him for post offices, court buildings, forts, etc. Like the federal government, Texas maintains a land office to administer its public domain. Many of the millions of acres that the state retained in 1846 have been granted or sold to settlers, but a sizable area still remains and is being constantly disposed of to the advantage of the state treasury. Hundreds of square miles of land in the western part of the state were early set aside as am endowment for the University of Texas. For decades the only income from these properties were grazing fees from cattle- men. In recent years, however, petro leum has been discovered under these lands and millions of dollars in royalties have flowed into the coffers of the Uni- versity. It is likely that as a result of these discoveries the University of Texas will before long be one of ‘the wealthiest educational institutions in the United States. If one saw only a limited area of Texas, and on that based his ideas of the whole, he would be as confused 4 the blind men of the fable who tried to describe an elephant. The first, feel ing a leg thought the animal was like | Ty, ind hey old 1 is izes 10st flag - of hite lade yper Star the ions, state pirit it in state pect. » did ween n of d re- althy 1 her vhich , the pub- these Tnele land that \fiices, Texas fer its illions 1846 rs, but being antage ds of n part as an Texas. 1 these cattle- petro- - these pyalties e Uni- sult of Texas althiest United area of deas of used as 10 tried st, feel- vas like © Vol. 16, No. 2 a tree; the second, feeling its side, con- sidered it like a wall, and so on. If the visitor were set down in east Texas from over the Louisiana border he would de- cide that Texas was a heavily forested state, with here and there a swamp, and that timber must be the most important product. ‘Texas is sixth state in the pro- duction of timber products, but the timbered belt is relatively small and there are vast areas of the state without a tree. Emerging from the forests, the visitor would find himself in huge rice fields on the coastal plains near the Gulf of Mexico, and would have to amend his ideas to include agriculture. Texas ranks second among the states in the production of rice. Hard by the rice fields he would come upon a great sheaf of oil derricks and would realize that Texas is a min- eral producing state as well as a forest and agricultural region. ‘This is only the first of many scattered oil fields that he would find in his journeys over Texas. Altogether they give an annual production worth more than two hun- dred million dollars. Passing through Houston where a great port has been created by a ship canal comparable to Manchester’s, and pausing at Galveston, one of the greatest salt water ports in the United States, the’visitor would pass through more rice fields and then in the low plains would stumble upon an amazing mining opera- tion, where sulphur is “mined” with superheated steam through wells. These unusual “‘mines’’ are in Brazoria and Matagorda Counties. The yellow min- eral is melted by the steam where it lies far under ground, and the fused sub- stance is pumped to the surface. Texas contributes more than half the sulphur produced in the United States and about a quarter of the world production. Passing rapidly south along the coast from the sulphur deposits, the visitor would find in Kleberg County, still another aspect of Texas. This is the heart of the south Texas cattle country, and there is a single ranch more than a million acres in extent. One more ac- tivity has been found in which Texas leads. In south and west Texas are millions of acres devoted entirely to cattle raising. The value of live stock in the State exceeds three hundred million dollars, and no other common- ‘wealth has as many beef cattle, mules, sheep, or angora goats. “ the southern and southwestern zone 0 exas is a large Mexican population, and almost every town has its section of flat-roofed, blocklike, mud houses where the Mexicans live much as they do south of the Rio Grande. If, instead of entering Texas in the east, a visitor were set down first at the southern tip of the state, he would find himself in orange and grapefruit groves and would be tempted to think of Texas Courtesy Dallas Chamber of Commerce as a semitropical region. A considerable area in the lower Rio Grande Valley is semitropical, and there is developing the third citrus fruit region of the United States to dispute markets with Florida and California. This development is recent and has been exceedingly rapid. Four years ago only 125 carloads of fruit were shipped. This season there will be more than ten times as many. The total number of trees is close to the three million mark, and in ten years, it is estimated the annual shipments will reach 20,000 cars. Journeying next through central Texas a visitor will find himself passing beside seemingly unending fields of cotton. This is the black soil prairie country of the state, and so widespread is the cultivation of the white, fleecy fiber that the observer would be tempted to forget his other impressions and to label Texas a land of cotton., Statistics would almost justify him, for Texas grows more than a third of the Ameri- can cotton crop, and more than a fifth of the world’s supply. When the price is favorable Texas’ annual cotton crop reaches a value of more than half a billion dollars. Incidentally, the cotton country is THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpUCATION ASSOCIATION 59 The fields are grown side by side, and the crops are usually rotated. Hundred million dollar corn crops are common in the state. When all of the annual crop values of Texas are totaled they just about reach also a corn country. the billion dollar mark. This places Texas in the leadership of all the states and credits her with approximately one eleventh of the total crop values of the union. Faring westward from the cotton country toward the Mexican and New Mexican boundaries, a visitor will cross hundreds of square miles of semiarid country, chiefly devoted to cattle raising. This is today the main seat of Texas ranching, an activity that once spread much farther east. But even into this cow country the oil driller has pene- trated and some of the richest fields are being developed there. All along the edge of the ranching country, too, farm- ers are penetrating and the one-time ranges are being given to the plow. The final major facet of Texas’ many sided activities is to be found in the far north, chiefly in the “Panhandle.” This cool section of Texas is covered with great wheat fields and takes on the aspect of one of the central states. Texas’ bumper wheat crop in 1919 was one thirtieth of the total United States production and was valued at nearly seventy million dollars. The size of Texas is pretty well known; in truth this obvious fact about the state has often sufficed for outsiders, and has masked the interesting other facts about the state found beneath the surface. With its area of apprommately 265,900 square miles, Texas constitutes about one eleventh of the United States, exclusive of Alaska and other outlying possessions. Although the state might almost be called sparsely populated on the whole, yet it now ranks fifth among the states in total population, having climbed from twentyfifth place in 1850. There is room and to spare, and if the present rate of increase continues, Texas may wake up after some census to find herself first in population as well as in size. Texans are fond of one story that well illustrates the state’s bigness. Jones, representing a Chicago firm, was stationed in El Paso at the western tip of Texas. One day he received a tele- gram from a headquarters associate sug- gesting that he “run over to Texar- kana,” also in Texas, and see a client. “Run over yourself,” Jones wired back, “You're closer than I am.” 5 Books to Share with Friends \ ) THAT BOOK have you recently found especially worthwhile? Something that you have read easily, eagerly, and with profit—either in the field of education or out of it.” This question was proposed by THE JoURNAL to a number of authors of im- portant writings on education. Here are some of the replies. Henry TurNerR Balvey, director of the Cleveland School of Art—The best book I have read in ten years is the Heart of Emerson's Journals, edited by Bliss Perry and published by Houghton, Miffin Company. It’s a good book for read. It throws a strong sidelight on many public characters. It proves the truth of William T. Harris’ contention, that Emerson is our greatest poetic seer. teachers to E. W. BuTTerFIELD, state commissioner of education, Concord, New Hamp- shire—To your list of valuable books, | will suggest one which I have read with profit, The Nature of the World and of Man, by H. H. Newman. SECRETARY TO E. P. CuBBERLEY, Stan- ford University, California—Dr. Cub- berley is away, but answering for him I would say that I have found his Intro- duction to the Study of Education the most interesting and worthwhile book I have read for a long time. I would recommend it. JoHN Dewey, Department of Philos- ophy, Columbia University—lIn the field of education I heartily recommend Mar- tin’s The Meaning of a Liberal Educa- tion, Norton and Co., New York. Out- side this field, Jack Black’s You Can't Win, Macmillan Company. Teachers can also get a great deal out of this book. SusAN M. Dorsey, superintendent of Schools, Los Angeles, California—Every teacher in the country should own and read at least once a year The Teachers Philosophy in and Out of School, by William De Witt Hyde. This is a tiny book but full of valuable suggestions. Another tiny. book that is worth its weight in gold several times over is George Herbert Palmer’s Selfcultiva- tion in English. Epwarp Round Trip Summer Fare from Chicago interested in (Vv) 0 Yellowstone Park - - $59.35 0 Rocky Mountains (Helena—Butte) op 61.95 O Inland Empire (Spokane) - - - 85.05 0 Pacific Northwest — ei ae 90.30 0 Rainier Park - | Tacoma a“ 90.30 0 Alaska (Skagway) os 190.30 (0 Dude Ranch Vacations - - $57. 95 to 66.90 0 Burlington Escorted Tours (allexpense) - $199.00 to 226.00 I'll gladly make your Hotel or Pullman reservations. **Route of the North Coast Limited” THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EpucATION ASSOCIATION University of Vermont Summer Session At Burlington On Lake Champlain July 5, 1927 to August 12, 1927 Courses are offered for graduate students, those desiring credit toward college de- grees, and teachers wishing certification credit, as well as for those studying only for professional or self-improvement. Subjects include: Arithmetic Art for Public Schools Fine Arts Commercial Subjects Mathematics School Administration Modern Languages and Supervision Greek Educational Psychology Latin Philosophy of Educa- Vocal and Instrumen- tion tal Music Educational Measure- Public School Music ments History Methods of Teaching Physical Training In addition to splendid facilities for study the University of Vermont offers superior opportunities for outdoor life and improvement of health because of its location near Lake Champlain, the Adirondacks, and the Green Mountains. Write for further information and il- lustrated bulletins. BENNETT C. DOUGLASS, Director of Summer School University of Vermont, Box B[Burlington, Vt- Boarding Schools FREE Catalogs of all Boarding Schools in U.S. few Camps). Preparatory, Finishing, Military, Collegiate, ete. Educators refer Boys or Girls or Parents here. Free Public Bureau— State Chartered. 20th year. FREE Catalogs and Advice on schools (or camps) meeting needs. American hools Association 1211 Times Building, New York, or 1204 Stevens Building, Chicago Camps—Information diberel A'SUMMER PROPOSITION to teachers Exchange Your Leisure This Vacation for a Profit- able Summer of Travel Rural Education Secondary Education English Unusual Advantages with Agreeable Associates OMEN teachers wanted to travel during the summer va- cation. Definite income to start, with all railroad fare paid. Interest- ing work along school lines offering splendid chance to travel; business training and good income assured. Those who can start earliest and work longest given preference. Pleasant summer territory open. Several teachers last summer aver- aged $500 to $1000 for their sum- mer vacation. This may lead to a successful permanent business ca- reer for you. Give full particulars concerning age, education and time you can start work, in first letter. Address R. A. WHITE Dept. N 800 Cuyahoga Bldg., CLEVELAND, OHIO THE University of Washington Fo pe" § ~SUMMER | . QUARTER TWO TERMS: June 14-July 20 July 21-Aug. 24 INSPIRATION TRAVEL REST RECREATION and STUDY JOIN THE COSMO- POLITAN STUDENT GROUP For Bulletins, Address: DEAN OF THE SUMMER QUARTER University of Washington, Seattle University of Maine Summer Session July 5-August 12. Do your summer work in vacation land. Unsurpassed climate; trips to famed beauty spots. Graduate in- struction in ten subjects; special teachers’ and superintendents’ courses leading to professional certificates. Athletic coaching and physical edu- cation courses. Expenses moderate. Address H. M. ELLIS, Director Orono, Maine The Bowling Green Business University specializes in Training Commercial Teachers. College Department accredited by University of Kentucky and on approved list of Education Departments of most of the States. Can supply well-trained teachers of college rank. Call at our Booth at the Superintendence meet- ing, Dallas. Bowling Green Business University Temple University Broad St. and Montgomery Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. College of Liberal Arts and Sciences Teachers College School of Commerce Professional Schools: Theology, Law, Medicine, Dentistry, Pharmacy, Chiropody School of Music Training School for Nurses University High School Second Semester begins Feb. 7, 1927 SEND FOR BULLETIN Phone, Stevenson 7600 Bowling Green, Ky. February, 1927 (Continued from page A-56) neither absent nor tardy for the entire time, according to word received from Principal Earl E. Mossman, principal of Monroe County High School, Key West, Florida. A PLEA FOR A WIDER participation in the National Education Association— Much has been said in recent years of the educational rank of Texas as com- pared with other states of the Union. Viewed from the most liberal angle, our standing is not as high as we would like to have it. But, fortunately, we are slowly building up a body of real pro- fessional teachers who are seriously set- ting themselves to the task of giving to ‘Texas a superior system of schools. This is no small undertaking, and if we are to succeed, we must utilize every agency that will aid us. We have been slow to recognize the value of our professional organizations. It took years for the idea to dawn on some of our teachers that there were tremendous possibilities in our own State Association. Now the Texas State Teachers Association is con- sidered a powerful and indispensable fac- tor in the educational affairs of Texas. But particularly have we been slow in sensing the value and significance of our national organizations. For the first fiftytwo years of the life of the National Education Association, membership in that organization in Texas did not reach beyond the hundred mark. Not until 1921 did our membership take an up- ward trend. By 1925 the membership had climbed to 2,943—a _ remarkably good showing in comparison with our previous record, but relatively poor when placed alongside of the 15,006 for California, 14,033 for Pennsylvania, and 12,790 for Ohio. It is not merely that we should strive to make a showing of numbers. What we need is the contact furnished by our national organization, the inspiration and the leadership. Texas has kept just a few paces be- hind the procession and, although mak- ing progress, will continue to occupy the same relative position unless we get fully abreast of movements in education. It is even time that we were making some contributions in national leadership rather than following, after the ground has already been laid out. We cannot do this unless we identify ourselves more closely with national movements 4 join hands with those who are shaping the educational policies and principles of this nation—J. O. Webb, N. E. 4. state director and superintendent of schools, Harrisburg, Texas. (Continued on page A-59) — —- Be ee -3 > or a0 cao me alc rkhrelCUrhrOlUCOlC RC UPC llC OlUlUCUrmOlC lO, ee oe eo. ae ee. die. eee eee — zz til hip bly ur for ping -iples A. = sas S ead Vol. 16, No. 2 (Continued from page A-58) HeNRY Forp advocates work to keep boys from crime. He believes that to give boys a chance to work and learn at reasonably paying jobs will do more to solve the question of crime than will quick, harsh court sentences after crime has been done. He gives this as his explanation for ordering the employ- ment officers of his company to hire 5000 boys between the ages of sixteen and twenty as quickly as possible. ANNOUNCEMENT has been made of the World Essay Contest for 1926-27, to be held under the auspices of the Ameri- can School Citizenship League, and is open to students of all countries. —T'wo sets of prizes, to be known as the Sea- bury Prizes, are offered for the best essays on one of the following subjects: (1) Open to students in normal schools and teachers colleges, ““The teacher as an agent of international goodwill”; (2) Open to seniors in secondary schools, “How the youth of the world can pro- mote international goodwill.” The con- test closes June 1, 1927. Information may be had from Fannie Fern Andrews, 405 Marlborough Street, Boston 17, Mass. BEGGING RIDES TO school has become a source of grave danger in many cities. In Newton, Massachusetts, the high- school’s civics class decided to do some- thing about the evil which it named thumbing. It initiated an anti-thumb ing crusade with the following an- houncement : The citizenship classes of the Newton highschools through this notice wish to in- form the citizens of Newton that we con- demn and deplore the practice of “bumming rides,” a habit that has increased consider- ably in the last few years. We hope that the citizens of Newton will not judge the good citizenship of the majority of the pupi!s by the actions and practice of a few who make a habit of “thumbing for lifts,” thus endangering life and limb and becoming a nuisance and danger to the drivers of auto- mobiles, We also request that car owners will help us stop this annoying practice by tefusing to give lifts to the boys and girls who make beggars of themselves by walking in the streets “bumming rides.” ROLLns CoLLEcE, Winter Park, Florida, has created a new depart- ment known as professorship of books, according to the American Library As- ‘oclation. Edwin Osgood Grover, au- thor, editor, and publisher, has been ap- pointed to fill the chair. Introduction of this course is primarily for the pur- 8 of developing reading habits in col- “ge students that will be lifelong. THE JOURNAL OF THE NATIONAL EDUCATION ASSOCIATION Summer Session 1927 June 17th to July 29th Graduate Courses Undergraduate Courses Special Courses for Teachers Also Courses in Music, Law, Engineering, Art For Bulletin of the Summer School, address Dean Isidor Loeb, Director of the Summer Session, Room 204 Duncker Hall, Washington Univer- sity, St. Louis. KR809 Perry Kindergarten Normal School Founded, 1898, by Annie Moseley Perry Thorough training for kindergarten, primary and play- ground positions. Enroll now for entrance in October, 1927. Send for booklet, ‘““Training Children.’’ HARRIOT HAMBLEN JONES, Principal 25 Huntington Ave., Room 316, Boston, Mass. Kindergarten% Elementary COLLEGE Summer Session June 17 to July 29, 1927 Elementary courses to meet the special needs of teachers from nursery school through sixth grade. Credits received for summer work can be applied toward degree. Socialized Activities in History, Geography and Civics. Fine and Industrial Arts for Elementary Grades. Children’s Literature and Story Telling. Large demonstration school. The college environment is particularly favorable for summer study and _ recreation. There is a unique spirit of good fellowship in a delightful, social and cultural atmosphere. New, completely equipped college and dormitory buildings are located in the most desirable section of Evanston. Campus less than two blocks from beautiful Lake Michigan. For summer bulletin address Edna Dean Baker, President, Summer School, Box 26, 2770 Sheridan Road, Evanston, Illinois. STUDY IN THE NATION’S CAPITAL George Washington University SUMMER SCHOOL Six Weeks’ Session, July 5 to August 13, 1927 Nine Weeks’ Session, June 13 to August 13, 1927 Courses are offered in the following departments: Astronomy Home Economics Botany Law Chemistry Library Science Commercial Law Mathematics Economics Medicine Education Philosophy , Physics English Political Science French Psychology Geology Sociology German Spanish History Zoology For announcement of the 1927 Summer School address SECRETARY OF George Washington University WASHINGTON, D. C. MiD-WEST HOCKEY AND SPORTS CAMP at Wetomachek, Powers Lake, Wis. The ideal vacation for all women inter- ested in Land and Water Sports. Beau- tiful lake, good food, low cost. Latest English Hockey methods, expert coach ing. Danish gymnastics. Work, play or rest as you wish. Register for one week or more. July 20th to Sept. ist. Address CHICAGO NORMAL SCHOOL OF PHYSICAL EDUCATION 5026 Greenwood Ave. Founded 1881 by Dr. D. A. Sargent Booklet on request L. W. SARGENT, Director CLARK «xo BREWER TEACHERS’ XO} (Oh Gy Sinem (ach Registration Covers all Seven Offices Permanently NEW YORK Flatiron Building BALTIMORE PITTSBURGH Jenkins Arcade KANSAS CITY 211 North Calvert Street N.Y MINNEAPOLIS Globe Building SPOKANE, WASH. Life Bldg Chamber Commerce Bldg CHICAGO 64 East Jackson Boulevard Box JE, Chicago, Ill. The SARGENT SCHOOL tt Cambridge, Mass. beeen THE JouRNAL OF THE NATIONAL EDUCATION ASSOCIATION February, 1927 NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF TEACHERS’ AGENCIES INCE the organization of the N. A. T. A. in 1914, it has grown until it now embraces approximately the leading teachers’ agencies of the United States. Before being admitted to membership, all agencies were carefully investigated and have subscribed to the Platform and Code of Ethics of the Association. ‘Teachers and school officials now fully realize that membership in the N. A. T. A. is the criterion of reliability. This organiza- tion is maintained for the welfare and protection of the teaching profession and is not a closed organization. Any well-established teachers’ agency, which will agree to abide by the Platform and Code of Ethics, is-welcome to membership. Our ideal was ably expressed by a member in one of our annual meetings as follows: “Beyond the collection of our fee, beyond the teacher whom we place in a position that affords opportunity for greater self-realization, beyond the superintendent, whose problem of getting someone to carry on we have helped to solve, there is the child. He is the ultimate consumer of the services that we sell and he has no voice in the buying. He is entitled to jus- tice, to a fair chance at personal equipment for doing his part of the world’s work that awaits him. Let us never forget him.” Albany Teachers’ Agency, Albany, N. Y. Fisk Teachers’ Agency, Birmingham. Rocky Mountain Teachers’ Agency, Minneapolis. Albert Teachers’ Agency, Chicago. Fisk Teachers’ Agency, Boston. Rogers Teachers’ Agency, Columbus, O. Allied Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Fisk Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Sabin’s Educational Exchange, Des Moines. American Teachers’ Agency, Spritgfield, Mass. Fisk Teachers’ Agency, Philadelphia. Schermerhorn Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. American Teachers’ Bureau, Pittsburgh. Frankford Teachers’ Agency, Los Angeles. Schermerhorn Teachers’ Agency, Cleveland, O. American & Foreign Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Hahn, J. M., Teachers’ Agency, Berkeley, Calif. Schermerhorn Teachers’ Agency, Pittsburgh. Boynton Teachers’ Agency, Los Angeles. Huff, E. L., Teachers’ Agency, Missoula, Mont. Southern Teachers’ Agency, Columbia, S. C. Bryant Teachers’ Bureau, Philadelphia. Interstate Teachers’ Agency, Rochester, N. Y. Southern Teachers’ Agency, Chattanooga, Tenn. | Cary Teachers’ Agency, Hartford. Interstate Teachers’ Bureau, Atlanta. Southern Teachers’ Agency, Richmond, Va. Central Educational Bureau, St. Louis. Interstate Teachers’ Agency, New Orleans. Southern Teachers’ Agency, Louisville, Ky. Clark & Brewer Teachers’ Agency, Chicago. Kellogg’s Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Specialists’ Educational Bureau, St. Louis. Clark & Brewer Teachers’ Agency, Spokane. Love Teachers’ Agency, Fargo, N. Dak. Teachers Exchange, Boston. Clark & Brewer Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Midland Schools Teachers’ Agency, Des Moines. Thurston Teachers’ Agency, Chicago. Cooperative Teachers’ Agency, Buffalo. Musical & Educational Bureau, Boston. Western Teachers’ Exchange, Denver. Corlew Teachers’ Agency, Boston. Ohio Midland Teachers’ Agency, Columbus, O. Western Teachers’ Exchange, Chicago. Davis-Stewart School Service, Lincoln, Nebr. Ohio Valley Teachers’ Agency, Mentor, Ky. Winship Teachers’ Agency, Boston. Eastern Teachers’ Agency, Boston. Oswego Teachers’ Agency, Oswego, N. Y. Yates-Fisher Teachers’ Agency, Chicago. Educators’ Bureau, Indianapolis. Parker Teachers’ Agency, Madison, Wis. Yates-Fisher Teachers’ Agency, Portland, O. Empire Teachers’ Agency, Syracuse. Pratt Teachers’ Agency, N. Y. City. Yates, H. D., Teachers’ Bureau, St. Louis. Fickett Teachers’ Agency, Boston. Rocky Mountain Teachers’ Agency, Denver. Yergensen Teachers’ Agency, Salt Lake City. Clip out for future reference. TEACHERS WANTED NATIONAL TEACHERS AGENCY, INC. PROFESSIONAL TEACHER PLACEMENT SERVICE FISK TEACHERS: AGENCY, 28 E. Jackson Blvd., Chicago. Leader among Teachers Agencies. Philadelphia Syracuse NATIONAL TEACHERS AGENCY, Southern Building, Washington. National in scope. Pittsburgh Indianapolis AMERICAN COLLEGE BUREAU, Chicago Temple, Chicago. College work only. Northampton Memphis EDUCATION SERVICE, 1256 Amsterdam Ave., New York; Steger Building, Chicago. The above organizations, under the direction of E. E. Olp, 28 E. Jackson Blwd., Chicago, com- prise the largest teacher placement work in the United States under one management. ALBERT TEACHERS’ AGENCY, 25 East Jackson Boulevard, Chicago, Ill. Forty-second year. We have secured PROMOTIONS or many thousands of yer -_ superintendents. We need well- men and women for all kinds of School and C positions. Our clients are the everywhere. Our booklet, “Teaching as a Business,” has a message for you. Send for it. OTHER OFFICES 437 Fifth Ave., New York City Symes Building, Denver, Colo. Awarded Gold Medal at Sesquicentennial for lacement Service Keep abreast . Sty udy in your subject Some courses in Edu- cation are ‘‘Genetic Psy- chology,’” ‘‘Story Telling in Primary Grades,’’ ‘*The Rural Teacher’s Prob- lems,”’ ‘‘Study of Psycho- pathic Children, * “Meth. Sie of Teachingin Elemen- tary Gredes,’’ ‘“The Junior Peyton Building, Spokane, Wash. Professional Placement for Progressive Teachers Discriminating Service to School Officials c in 40 High School Movement,” Ee Bcc THE J. M. HAHN TEACHERS AGENCY manding credit ministration and Supervi- towards a Bach- sion,”’ ‘Educational Meas- We fill every sort of educational position from the kindergarten to the university. Our field is elor degree. urements,”’ etc. the twelve westernmost States, the Islands, Alaska, the Orient and Latin America. We are always in quest of outstanding people for important positions. October Bulletin: We note a rapid growth of our College and University Department. We have just absorbed the local Fisk Teachers Agency. J. M. HAHN and Blanche Tucker, Managers Begin any time The University of Chicago 91 Ertis HALL CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 2161 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, California The Everett 0, Fisk Teachers’Agencies ,i5 Sitszs, Pits Srrcuse S77 Schofield Bide. Cero 120 Boylston St.,Boston 415 Congress St., Portland,Me. 808 Title Bldg., Birmingham 409 Journal Bidg., Portland, Ore. 225 Fifth Avenue, New York 649 Union Trust Bidg., Pittsburgh 548 Spring St., Los Send for Circular and Registration Form to any address above THE YATES-FISHER TEACHERS’ AGENCY ,., sour michicaN AVENUE Cl CHICAGO . Harrison 264 Other Office PORTLAND, OREGON, 911-12 Broadway Bldg. wares: Tae att WINSOR & NEWTON’S Oil and Water Colours Used by the Mastersfor Nearly 100Years Poster, Tempera, Show-card Colours, Brushes, Canvas, Sketch Boxes, Easels, Smocks, Pen-painting Outfits, Etching Tools and Outfits, Stencils, ae. ees Sey es For the better vacancies in high schools and colleges, write us. 1377 ARCADE BUILDING Every essential for Artist, Student, and Schook ST. LOUIS, MO. ergata" eisomn |! THE H. D. YATES TEACHERS’ BUREAU ut Illustrated Art Studi d Catal “N” Free, ember ational Association eachers’ Agencies. nates "a Pennant. rs = No teacher enrolled with less than two years (60 semester hours) of college work. No Branch Offices bike ea SPECIALIST INCORPORATED 31 FAST17*5T. 1 New YORK EDUCATIONAL BUREAU - ODEON BLDG.,ST. LOUIS.M° Mention Tue Journat when writing our advertisers,