The Teacher. Abbott Jacob

one among fifty, constituting the lesson. If he misses it, the teacher cannot decide that he was unprepared. It might have been a single accidental error.

      Another teacher, hearing the same lesson, requests the boys to bring their slates, and as he dictates the words, one after another, requires all to write them. After they are all written, he calls upon the pupils to spell them aloud as they have written them, simultaneously, pausing a moment after each, to give those who are wrong, an opportunity to indicate it, by some mark opposite the word misspelled. They all count the number of errors and report them. He passes down the class, glancing his eye at the work of each one, to see that all is right, noticing particularly those slates, which, from the character of the boys, need a more careful inspection. A teacher, who had never tried this experiment, would be surprised at the rapidity with which such work will be done by a class, after a little practice.

      Now how different are these two methods, in their actual results! In the latter case, the whole class are thoroughly examined. In the former, not a single member of it, is. Let me not be understood to recommend exactly this method of teaching spelling, as the best one to be adopted, in all cases. I only bring it forward as an illustration of the idea, that a little machinery, a little ingenuity, in contriving ways of acting on the whole, rather than on individuals, will very much promote the teacher's designs.

      In order to facilitate such plans, it is highly desirable that the classes should be trained to military precision and exactness in these manipulations. What I mean by this, may perhaps be best illustrated, by describing a case: it will show, in another branch, how much will be gained by acting upon numbers at once, instead of upon each individual in succession.

      Imagine, then, that a teacher requested all the pupils of his school, who could write, to take out their slates, at the hour for a general exercise. As soon as the first bustle of opening and shutting the desks was over, he looked around the room, and saw some ruling lines across their slates, others wiping them all over on both sides, with sponges, others scribbling, or writing, or making figures.

      "All those," says he, with a pleasant tone and look, "who have taken out any thing besides slates, may rise."

      Several, in various parts of the room, stood up.

      "All those, who have written any thing since they took out their slates, may rise too, and those who have wiped their slates."

      When all were up, he said to them, though not with a frown or a scowl, as if they had committed some very great offence;

      "Suppose a company of soldiers should be ordered to form a line, and instead of simply obeying that order, they should all set at work, each in his own way, doing something else. One man, at one end of the line, begins to load and fire his gun; another takes out his knapsack, and begins to eat his luncheon; a third amuses himself by going as fast as possible through the exercise; and another still, begins to march about, hither and thither, facing to the right and left, and performing all the evolutions he can think of. What should you say to such a company as that?"

      The boys laughed.

      "It is better," said the teacher, "when numbers are acting under the direction of one, that they should all act exactly together. In this way, we advance much faster, than we otherwise should. Be careful therefore to do exactly what I command, and nothing more."

      "Provide a place, on your slates, large enough to write a single line," added the teacher, in a distinct voice. I print his orders in italics, and his remarks and explanations in Roman letter.

      "Prepare to write."

      "I mean by this," he continued, "that you place your slates before you, with your pencils at the place where you are to begin, so that all may commence precisely at the same instant."

      The teacher who tries such an experiment as this, will find, at such a juncture, an expression of fixed and pleased attention upon every countenance in school. All will be intent; all will be interested. Boys love order and system, and acting in concert; and they will obey, with great alacrity, such commands as these, if they are good-humoredly, though decidedly expressed.

      The teacher observed in one part of the room, a hand raised, indicating that the boy wished to speak to him. He gave him liberty by pronouncing his name.

      "I have no pencil;" said the boy.

      A dozen hands, all around him, were immediately seen fumbling in pockets and desks, and, in a few minutes, several pencils were reached out for his acceptance.

      The boy looked at the pencils, and then at the teacher; he did not exactly know, whether he was to take one or not.

      "All those boys," said the teacher, pleasantly, "who have taken out pencils, may rise."

      "Have these boys done right, or wrong?"

      "Right;" "Wrong;" "Right;" answered their companions, variously.

      "Their motive was to help their classmate out of his difficulties; that is a good feeling, certainly."

      "Yes sir; right;" "Right."

      "But I thought you promised me a moment ago," replied the teacher, "not to do any thing, unless I commanded it. Did I ask for pencils?"

      A pause.

      "I do not blame these boys at all, in this case, still it is better to adhere rigidly to the principle, of exact obedience, when numbers are acting together. I thank them, therefore, for being so ready to assist a companion, but they must put their pencils away, as they were taken out without orders."

      Now such a dialogue as this, if the teacher speaks in a good-humored, though decided manner, would be universally well received, in any school. Whenever strictness of discipline is unpopular, it is rendered so, simply by the ill-humored and ill-judged means, by which it is attempted to be introduced. But all children will love strict discipline, if it is pleasantly, though firmly maintained. It is a great, though very prevalent mistake, to imagine, that boys and girls like a lax and inefficient government, and dislike the pressure of steady control. What they dislike is, sour looks and irritating language, and they therefore very naturally dislike every thing introduced or sustained by their means. If, however, exactness and precision in all the operations of a class and of the school, are introduced and enforced, in the proper manner, i. e., by a firm, but mild and good-humored authority, scholars will universally be pleased with them. They like to see the uniform appearance,—the straight line,—the simultaneous movement. They like to feel the operation of system, and to realize, while they are at the school room, that they form a community, governed by fixed and steady laws, firmly but pleasantly administered. On the other hand, laxity of discipline, and the disorder which will result from it, will only lead the pupils to contemn their teacher, and to hate their school.

      By introducing and maintaining such a discipline as I have described, great facilities will be secured for examining the classes. For example, to take a case different from the one before described; let us suppose that a class have been performing a number of examples in Addition. They come together to the recitation, and under one mode of managing classes, the teacher is immediately beset, by a number of the pupils, with excuses. One had no slate; another was absent when the lesson was assigned; a third performed the work, but it got rubbed out; and a fourth did not know what was to be done. The teacher stops to hear all these, and to talk about them; fretted himself, and fretting the delinquents by his impatient remarks. The rest of the class are waiting, and having nothing good to do, the temptation is almost irresistible to do something bad. One boy is drawing pictures on his slate, to make his neighbors laugh; another is whispering, and two more are at play. The disorder continues, while the teacher goes round examining slate after slate, his whole attention being engrossed by each individual, as the pupils come to him successively, while the rest are left to themselves, interrupted only by an occasional harsh or even angry, but utterly useless rebuke from him.

      But under another mode of managing classes and schools, a very different result would be produced.

      A boy approaches the teacher to render an excuse, the teacher replies, addressing himself, however, to the whole class, "I shall give all an opportunity to offer their excuses presently. No one must come till he is called."

      The class then regularly take their