In these days of model schools it is difficult to find an innovation or to advance a theory of improvement which has not already been made; but it seems to me there is one crying grievance from which all schools suffer, and which I should like to do my little mite to redress. My ideal of a school-master is the one in the opera of “Billy Taylor.” His creed is summed up in the quatrain.
“When a pedagogue, I’d often wish,I’d give prizes to theworstboys at school.The good boys I would like to swish,But alas! I would not break the rule.”
“When a pedagogue, I’d often wish,I’d give prizes to theworstboys at school.The good boys I would like to swish,But alas! I would not break the rule.”
Since the pleasant duty of awarding prizes has fallen to my lot, I am determined to award them according to my theory, and lest my reasons for bestowing them may not be perfectly clear to all,and the system of reasoning by which my results are attained appear somewhat illogical, I will endeavor to explain my reasons.
What, for instance, can be more absurd than the usual way in which the prize is chosen for the individual obtaining the highest per cent. in an examination? What, forsooth, is awarded but a collection of books!!! Yes! To the very person who is supposed to know all that books contain! It would be much more logical to my thinking to give the aforesaid set of books to a poor plucked student who would be so glad to avail himself of a little of their weighty contents.
For, and in consideration of the aforesaid reason, and for other valuable consideration, I hereby assign, transfer and set over unto you, my dear Miss Reidy, this little volume. It may seem small, but believe me therein is comprised a respectable proportion of human knowledge. It will be your consolation in time of need. In it you will find every thing a mortal mind may desire. Do you desire wealth? You will find it described on all that certain lot, piece or parcel of column 2, situate, lying and being on page 303. Or perhaps happiness is your aim? That you will find near thesoutheast corner of page 133, the same being therein described as the State of Enjoyment.
In short, you will have no wish unfulfilled. Go,read yeand be wise, and however friends may forsake you, be sure this faithful Dict. will never fail you.
Another striking injustice in the bestowal of prizes is the fact the teachers get none of them, and who, pray, is more entitled to them? Is it not the teacher who has crammed and coached the unfortunate students to the saturation point? Now, in my model school, no such injustice shall be done, but, what to offer? There’s the question. Of course a teacher’s mind is a compendium of all human knowledge, therefore books would be out of place. So, Mr. Mason, to you I offer no gaudy volume, but only this little machine, adapted for physical culture. It is warranted to exercise every one of the blank muscles of the human body at once; besides cultivating the artistic taste. Note the graceful curve it describes in the air! Note the harmony of color in the handles! Take it, dear teacher, to have, to possess, and to enjoy the same unto yourself, your heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns forever.
Another striking incongruity is the fact thatthe best student is generally a pale, slender girl, or one on which the ravages of disease have set their mark. To this delicate creature is given a prize of books which will still further tax her powers. Now, would it not be wiser to minister to the body diseased and award a prize of this nature. Will Miss Hilda Busick step this way? Permit me to ask you one question.Be you sick?That is all I wish to know.Be you sick?If that be so, dear friend, take this in time. It is warranted to cure every ill under the sun, and taken internally or externally makes no difference. Take it, and bless your fortunate star which brought this to your lot rather than a pile of dusty volumes.
For you, dear Miss Clancy, I was at a loss, but knowing that your future career will be a busy one, I thought this little engagement slate might be handy. You see you can hang it up in your office when you are called away to take down a sermon of Phillips Brooks, or to report the World’s Fair of ’92, and the horde of stenographer-hunters may subscribe their names here and their humble supplication that you will attend to them on their return. The other side of the slate may be used in casting up bills.
I quite agree with Miss Sharp that patriotic sentiments ought to be inculcated, and for this reason I have chosen this little flag of our country which I beg she will accept; accompanying it is a little bundle of fire-crackers dear to every patriotic heart. The best way to appreciate them is to tie them together with their fuming little projecting frizzles, set fire to the last one and throw them on the street; the result will astonish you, I am sure.
And now, my dear friends, you have seen the merits of my system, but it is with pain that I point out its only defect. I give prizes to the worst ones at school, the only trouble is there are so few “worst” that the list of prize-winners is naturally small. But I hope you will acknowledge that its defect is amply compensated for by its other excellencies.
Listen my friends, and you shall hearAdreadfulpoem which I have here.’Tis about the class of ’91,And a harrowing tale when once begun.A tale that will make you all shiver and shake;The thought of it now is making me quake.’Tis a tale of struggle and grief and woe,Of the girls who wrote fast, and the girls who wrote slow,Of girls who came early, of girls who came late,Of those who had plenty, others, none to dictate.Of the girls who held pencils as if they were pills,Of others, who held them as if they had chills.Of the dear darling girls who did everything (write) right,Of other unfortunates weeping all night,Oh! indeed, my dear friends, ’twas a terrible sight.Of a dear kindly teacher who came every night,And who stayed long after the electric light,Of the class in a circle the teacher around,While he watched every outline, and heard every sound.And the five minutes recess to catch the fresh air.Of return to the circle and “catching” it there;Of the girls who can stand up and read as they’d write.Of others who couldn’t if they stood up all night;Ah! yes indeed, ’twas a pitiful plight.Of Complaints and of Answers, of Leases and Deeds;Of all kinds of letters for business men’s needs;Of good sound advice as we all neared the end,From our dear kind Instructor, who is “also our friend.”Of that dread Monday eve which had long been expected;Of the papers accepted, and the papers rejected.Of this beautiful calm which has followed that night;And I’m sure that my teachers and classmates uniteIn thanking Class ’90 for this pleasant sight.
Listen my friends, and you shall hearAdreadfulpoem which I have here.’Tis about the class of ’91,And a harrowing tale when once begun.A tale that will make you all shiver and shake;The thought of it now is making me quake.
’Tis a tale of struggle and grief and woe,Of the girls who wrote fast, and the girls who wrote slow,Of girls who came early, of girls who came late,Of those who had plenty, others, none to dictate.Of the girls who held pencils as if they were pills,Of others, who held them as if they had chills.Of the dear darling girls who did everything (write) right,Of other unfortunates weeping all night,Oh! indeed, my dear friends, ’twas a terrible sight.
Of a dear kindly teacher who came every night,And who stayed long after the electric light,Of the class in a circle the teacher around,While he watched every outline, and heard every sound.And the five minutes recess to catch the fresh air.Of return to the circle and “catching” it there;Of the girls who can stand up and read as they’d write.Of others who couldn’t if they stood up all night;Ah! yes indeed, ’twas a pitiful plight.
Of Complaints and of Answers, of Leases and Deeds;Of all kinds of letters for business men’s needs;Of good sound advice as we all neared the end,From our dear kind Instructor, who is “also our friend.”Of that dread Monday eve which had long been expected;Of the papers accepted, and the papers rejected.Of this beautiful calm which has followed that night;And I’m sure that my teachers and classmates uniteIn thanking Class ’90 for this pleasant sight.
Hail! To our friends, both one and all,Hail! To our neighbors, great and small,Hail! To the sweet June air and sun,Hail! To the Class of ’91.For the past eight months we’ve been working,Working with might and main,To get Phonographic outlinesFixed firmly in our brains.But now our work is ended,Our Winter’s work is done;Then hip hurrah, hurrah, hurrah,For the Class of ’91!And we smile as we think of the hoursThat we thought so fraught with pain;They have gone like the fleeting shadows,N’er to return again.And now we can sit in our cosy homes,And watch the drizzling rain;It used to be, “Put up your umbrellaAnd don’t you miss the train.”I was seated one night, with book and pen,The midnight oil burned low;While on the table spread before me lay,A legal doc. with verbiage slow.When all at once on the still night air,Rang a terrible shriek, so wild and shrill,It curdled the warm blood in my veins,And made my very heart stand still.I rushed to the casement, and open it flewThe pale moon shone in the azure sky,And like costly gems, ’neath a cloud of lace,Gleamed the stars in the Milky Way.And I looked and shuddered,For what did I see,But Thomas and Maria a lookin’ at me,Their voices were pitched in the high key of C.Classmates, now step to the front,And make your bow to the business world,We are ready to work for honest hire,With our banners all unfurled.And now in conclusion we bid you adieuAnd make room for the Class of ’92.Now give three cheers, and three times threeFor this glorious G. S. M. & T.God’s blessing be on it forever, we say,May it know naught but prosperous days.
Hail! To our friends, both one and all,Hail! To our neighbors, great and small,Hail! To the sweet June air and sun,Hail! To the Class of ’91.
For the past eight months we’ve been working,Working with might and main,To get Phonographic outlinesFixed firmly in our brains.
But now our work is ended,Our Winter’s work is done;Then hip hurrah, hurrah, hurrah,For the Class of ’91!
And we smile as we think of the hoursThat we thought so fraught with pain;They have gone like the fleeting shadows,N’er to return again.
And now we can sit in our cosy homes,And watch the drizzling rain;It used to be, “Put up your umbrellaAnd don’t you miss the train.”
I was seated one night, with book and pen,The midnight oil burned low;While on the table spread before me lay,A legal doc. with verbiage slow.
When all at once on the still night air,Rang a terrible shriek, so wild and shrill,It curdled the warm blood in my veins,And made my very heart stand still.
I rushed to the casement, and open it flewThe pale moon shone in the azure sky,And like costly gems, ’neath a cloud of lace,Gleamed the stars in the Milky Way.
And I looked and shuddered,For what did I see,But Thomas and Maria a lookin’ at me,Their voices were pitched in the high key of C.
Classmates, now step to the front,And make your bow to the business world,We are ready to work for honest hire,With our banners all unfurled.
And now in conclusion we bid you adieuAnd make room for the Class of ’92.
Now give three cheers, and three times threeFor this glorious G. S. M. & T.God’s blessing be on it forever, we say,May it know naught but prosperous days.
My Dear Pupils:
This is the last night of our course, and since we have studied our final lesson together, it has occurred to me that this would be a good opportunity for a little talk with you, as you are about to leave this school and go out into the world. First of all, I want to tell you, as I have many times told you before, how very much I have enjoyed my work in connection with this class during the past Winter. There is a certain satisfaction in feeling that I have been able to help you to learn something, and this feeling is increased by remembering that I, too, have been learning, and that my knowledge of the art of shorthand has been enlarged by teaching it to you. You, on the other hand, must keep in mind the fact that you have not learned all there is to be learned about Phonography. Though you may livemany years, and practice Phonography all your life, you probably never will feel that you have a perfect knowledge of all the details of the art. This, however, need not discourage you, but, on the contrary, should fill you with pleasure to think there is something yet to be learned, and thus the fascination which the study of Phonography has had for you during the past few months, can never diminish so long as you have a desire to advance more and more towards perfection. It is not to be expected that you will for any length of time remember everything that I have ever said to you with regard to the advantages of shorthand or its practical use; but of one thing I feel very sure, and that is that whatever I have said that is worth anything will at some future time recur to you when you need it most, and when it will probably be better understood than it is now.
There is one fact that I wish very strongly to impress upon you, namely, that you have, by your diligent study of the past Winter, gained something which is of priceless value to you, and, if used aright, something which must some day, sooner or later, prove of particular advantage. This practical knowledge of shorthand which you now possess issomething which cannot be bought or sold; it is something which you can never wholly forget; it is something which many persons would give a great deal to obtain; and I therefore charge you to guard it with care, and treasure it as a talent for the right use of which you will some day be held accountable. Do not by any means give up your practice. Even if you cannot continue it regularly, do not abandon it altogether, but look upon your shorthand as a mine of intellectual wealth which, if rightly worked, will yield rich results.
And now, one word more: be diligent, be persevering, be true to whatever trust is reposed in you; and, if you seek a reward outside of the natural satisfaction that will come from work well done, remember the word of One who said, “Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things.”
With hearty congratulations upon your success, and with the most cordial wishes for your future prosperity, I bid you God-speed.
[A]’Tis said, alas, that life must have its sorrows,That with the roses cruel thorns should grow;And though we fondly dream of love’s to-morrows,Must every heart the grief of parting know.
[A]
’Tis said, alas, that life must have its sorrows,That with the roses cruel thorns should grow;And though we fondly dream of love’s to-morrows,Must every heart the grief of parting know.
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the authors’ words and intent.