Circumstances force people to live in one place, to see one set of surroundings and meet one kind of folks, until they are led to believe, almost inevitably, that their kind is the kind. Schools are the victims of just such provincialism. Although the school superintendents and principals, and some of the school teachers meet their co-workers from other cities, the people whose children attend the schools almost never have an opportunity to learn intelligently what other schools are doing. This city develops one educational idea, and that city develops another idea. Although both ideas may deserve widespread consideration, and perhaps universal adoption, they will fail to measure up to the full stature of their value unless the people in all communities learn about them intelligently.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] “American Education,” Andrew S. Draper, Boston; Houghton Mifflin Co., 1909, pp. 281–83.
[2] Ibid., p. 275.
[3] Ibid., p. 281.
[4] Idem.
[5] The Responsibility of the School, E. E. Brown, U. S. Commissioner of Education. A pamphlet privately printed in Philadelphia, 1908, containing a series of addresses.
[6] Report on the Programme of Studies in the Public Schools of Montclair, N. J., Paul H. Hanus, Cambridge, Mass., pp. 7 and 8.
[7] Report on National Vitality, Irving Fisher, Washington Government Print., 1909, pp. 76–77.
[8] The Problem of Individualizing Instruction, W. F. Andrew, Education, Vol. 26, p. 135 (1905).
[9] Evolution and Ethics, T. H. Huxley, New York, D. Appleton & Co., 1902, p. 220.
[10] Growth and Education, J. M. Tyler, Houghton Mifflin Co., New York, 1907, p. 21.
[11] Education, H. Spencer, New York, D. Appleton & Co., 1861, p. 162.
[12] Supra, p. 63.
[13] Annual Report, U. S. Commissioner of Education, 1911; Washington Government Print., 1912, Vol. I, pp. 12–13.
[14] Conserving Childhood, Andrew S. Draper; The Child Workers of the Nation, Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Conference on Child Labor, Chicago, Ill., Jan. 21–23, 1909; New York, 1909, pp. 9–10.
[15] Report U. S. Commissioner of Education, 1911, Vol. I, p. 12.
CHAPTER I
THE NEW BASIS FOR EDUCATION[16]
I Can There Be a New Basis?
Can there be a new basis for education? Does the foundation upon which education rests really change? Is the educational system of one age necessarily unfitted to provide for the educational needs of the next? These, and a multitude of the similar questions which people interested in educational progress are asking themselves, arise out of the process of transition that is seemingly one of the fundamental propositions of the universe. All things change, and are changing, from the smallest cell to the most highly organized creature, the noblest mountain range, and the vastest sun in the heavens. To-day differs from yesterday as to-morrow must differ from to-day. All things are becoming.
Test this statement with the observed facts of life. Here is a garden, well-planted and watered. The soil is loamy and black. On all its surface there is nothing, save a clod here and there, to relieve the warm, moist regularity. Come to-morrow and the level surface is broken by tiny green shoots which have appeared at intervals, thrusting through the top crust. Next week the black earth is striped with rows of green. Onions, beets, lettuce, and peas are coming up. Go back to the hills which you climbed in boyhood, ascend their chasmed sides and note how even they have changed. Each year some part of them has disappeared into the rapid torrent. Had you been there in April, you might have seen particles of your beloved hills in every water-course, hurrying toward the lowlands and the sea. While you watch them, the clouds change in the sky, the sunset wanes, and the forest covers the bared hills. Nature, fickle mistress of our destinies, spreads a never-ending panorama before our eyes that we may recognize the one great law of her being—the law of progression.
II Social Change
How well does this principle of change apply to the organization of society! The absolute monarchy of one age yields to the semi-democracy of the next. Yesterday the church itself traded in men’s bodies—holding slaves, and accepting, without question, the proceeds of slavery. To-day machines replace men in a thousand industries. To-morrow slavery is called into question, until in the dim-glowering nineteenth century, men will struggle and die by tens of thousands;—on the one side, those who believe that the man should be the slave; on the other, those who hold that the slavery of the machine is alone necessary and just. Thus is every social institution altered from age to age. Thus is effected that transformation which men have chosen to call progress.
How profoundly does this truth apply to the raw material of education—the children who enroll in the schools! Under your very eyes they lose their childish ways, feel their steps along the precipice of adolescence, enter the wonderland of imagery and idealism, and pass on into the maturity of life. How vain is our hope that the child may remain a child; how worthless our prayer that adult life shall never lay her heavy burden of cares and responsibilities upon his beloved shoulders. Even while you raise your hands in supplication, the child has passed from your life forever, leaving naught save a man to confront you.
From these mighty scythe strokes which change sweeps across the meadows of time, naught is exempt. The petals fall from the fairest flower; the bluest sky becomes overcast; the greatest feats of history are surpassed; and the social machinery, adequate for the needs of one age, sinks into the insignificance of desuetude