CUTTING SUGAR-CANE ON THE SCHOOL'S FARM
CUTTING SUGAR-CANE ON THE SCHOOL'S FARM
A class of people in the South also favoured industrial education because they saw that as long as the Negro kept abreast in intelligence and skill with the same class of workmen elsewhere, the South, at present free from the grip of the trade union, would continue free from its restrictive influences. I should like to make a diversion here to call attention to the fact that official records show that within one year about one million foreigners came into the United States, yet practically none of theimmigration went into the Southern States. The records show that in 1892 only 2,278 all told went into the States of Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. One ship sometimes brings as many as these to New York in one trip. Foreigners avoid the South. It must be frankly recognised by the people of that section that for a long period they must depend upon the black man to do for it what the foreigner is doing for the Great West, and that they cannot hope to keep pace with the progress of people in other sections if one-third of the population is ignorant and without skill. If the South does not help the Negro up, it will be tying itself to a body of death. If by reason of his skill and knowledge one man in Iowa can produce as much corn in a season as four men can produce in Alabama, it requires little reasoning to see that Alabama will buy most of her corn from Iowa.
An instance which illustrates most interestingly the value of education that concerns itself with the common things about us, is furnished by Professor Geo. W. Carver, the Director of our Agricultural Department. For some time it has been his custom to prepare articles containing information concerning the condition of local crops, and warning the farmers against the ravages of certain diseases and insects. Some months ago a white landholder in Montgomery County asked Mr. Carver to inspect hisfarm. While doing so, Mr. Carver discovered traces of what he thought was a valuable mineral deposit used in making a certain kind of paint. The interests of the agricultural expert and the landholder at once became mutual. Mr. Carver analysed specimens of the deposits in the laboratory at Tuskegee and sent the owner a report of the analysis, with a statement of the commercial application and value of the mineral. It is an interesting fact that two previous analyses had been made by chemists who had tabulated the constituents with greatest accuracy, but failed to grasp any idea of value in the deposits. I need not go into the details of this story, except to say that a stock company, composed of some of the best white people in Alabama, has been organised, and is now preparing to build a factory for the purpose of putting the product on the market. I hardly need add that Mr. Carver has been freely consulted at every step, and that his services have been generously recognised in the organisation of the concern.
Now and then my advocacy of industrial education has been interpreted to mean that I am opposed to what is called "higher" or "more intellectual" training. This distorts my real meaning. All such training has its place and value in the development of a race. Mere training of the hand without mental and moral education would mean little for the welfare of any race. All are vital factorsin a harmonious plan. But, while I do not propose that every individual should have hand training, I do say that in all my contact with men I have never met one who had learned a trade in youth and regretted it in manhood, nor have I ever seen a father or mother who was sorry that his children had been taught trades.
There is still doubt in many quarters as to the ability of the Negro, unguided, and unsupported, to hew out his own path, and put into visible, tangible, indisputable forms the products and signs of civilisation. This doubt cannot be extinguished by mere abstract arguments, no matter how ingeniously and convincingly advanced. Quietly, patiently, doggedly, through summer and winter, sunshine and shadow, by self-sacrifice, by foresight, by honesty and industry, we must re-enforce arguments with results. One farm bought, one house built, one home neatly kept, one man the largest tax-payer and depositor in the local bank, one school or church maintained, one factory running successfully, one truck-garden profitably cultivated, one patient cured by a Negro doctor, one sermon well preached, one office well filled, one life cleanly lived—these will tell more in our favour than all the abstract eloquence that can be summoned to plead our cause. Our pathway must be up through the soil, up through swamps, up through forests, up through the streams and rocks; up through commerce, education, and religion!
In my opinion we cannot begin at the top to build a race, any more than we can begin at the top to build a house. If we try to do this, we shall reap in the end the fruits of our folly.
When the first few students began to come to Tuskegee I faced these questions which were inspired by my personal knowledge of their lives and surroundings:
What can these young men and women find to do when they return to their homes?
What are the industries in which they and their parents have been supporting themselves?
The answers were not always to my liking, but this was not the point at issue. I had to meet a condition, not a theory. What I might have wanted them to be doing was one thing; what they were actually doing was the bed-rock upon which I hoped to lay the foundation of the work at Tuskegee.
It was known that a large majority of the students came from agricultural districts and from homes in which agriculture in some form was the mainstay of the family. I had learned that nearly eighty per cent of the population of what are commonly called the Gulf States are dependent upon agricultural resources, directly or indirectly. These facts made me resolve toattempt in downright earnest to see what the Tuskegee Institute could do for the people of my race by teaching the intelligent use of hands and brains on the farm, not by theorising, but by practical effort. The methods in vogue for getting enough out of the soil to keep body and soul together were crude in the extreme. The people themselves referred to this heart-breaking effort as "making a living." I wanted to teach them how to make more than a living.
I have little respect for the farmer who is satisfied with merely "making a living." It is hardly possible that agricultural life will become attractive and satisfactory to ambitious young men or women in the South until farming can be made as lucrative there as in other parts of the country where the farmer can be reasonably sure of being able to place something in the bank at the end of the year. For the young farmer to be contented he must be able to look forward to owning the land that he cultivates, and from which he may later derive not only all the necessities of life, but some of the comforts and conveniences. The farmer must be helped to get to the point where he can have a comfortable dwelling-house, and in it bathtubs, carpets, rugs, pictures, books, magazines, a daily paper, and a telephone. He must be helped to cherish the possibility that he and his family will have time for study and investigation, and a littletime each year for travel and recreation, and for attending lectures and concerts.
GRINDING SUGAR-CANE AT THE SCHOOL'S SUGAR-MILL
GRINDING SUGAR-CANE AT THE SCHOOL'S SUGAR-MILL
But the average farmer whom I wanted to help through the medium of the Tuskegee Institute was far from this condition. I found that most of the farmers in the Gulf States cultivated cotton. Little or nothing in the form of stock or fowls, fruits, vegetables, or grain was raised for food. In order to get the food on which man and live stock were to live while the cotton crop was being grown, a mortgage or lien had to be given upon the crop, or rather upon the expected crop, for the legal papers were usually signed months in advance of the planting of the crop.
Cotton in the South has been known for years as "the money crop." This means that it is the one product from which cash may be expected without question as soon as the crop is harvested. The result of this system has been to discourage raising anything except cotton, for the man who holds the mortgage upon the crop discourages, and in some cases prevents, the farmer from giving much of his time and strength to the growing of anything except cotton, since the money-lender is not sure that he can get his money back from any other crop.
The result of this has been that, beginning in January, the farmer had to go to the store or to the money-lender for practically all of his food during the year. The rate of interest which the farmer hadto pay on his "advances" was in many cases enormous. The farmer usually got his "advances" or provisions from a storekeeper. The storekeeper in turn borrowed money from the local bank. The bank, as a general thing, borrowed from New York. By the time the money reached the farmer he had to pay in not a few cases a rate of interest which ranged from 15 to 30 per cent. If he failed to make his payment at the end of the year he was likely to be "cleaned up"—that is, everything in sight in the way of crops or live stock was taken from him. After being "cleaned up" he would either try to make another crop on the same rented farm—trusting to Providence or the weather for better luck—or else move to another farm and go in search of some one else to "run him," as the local expression describes the process. Not a few of the farmers whom I met had been "cleaned up" half a dozen times or more.
In addition to having to pay the high rate of interest for food supplies and clothing advanced, the ground rent was also to be paid. By far the greater part of the land was rented. This, of course, had a hurtful effect. Because the man who tilled the land did not own it, his main object was to get all he could out of the property and return to it as little as possible. The results were shown in the wretched cabins and surroundings. If a fence was out of repair, or the roof of the houseleaked, the tenant had no personal interest in keeping up the premises, because he was always expecting to move, and he did not want to spend money upon the property of other people.
Instead of returning the cotton-seed to the ground to help enrich the soil, he sold this valuable fertiliser. The land, of course, was more impoverished each year. Ditching and terracing received little attention. The mules with which the crops were made were rented or were being bought "on time," as a rule, and the farmer did not have enough direct interest in them to encourage him to spend money in keeping them in prime condition. Besides, the food fed to the animals was not raised on the place, but had to be bought.
Another serious result of the "one-crop" system was that the farmers handled almost no cash except in the fall. To the ignorant and inexperienced men of my race this was hurtful. If by any chance they were able to pay their ground rent, and the principal and exorbitant interest charged for their "advances," and have a few dollars in cash left, the money did not remain with them long, for it came into their hands about Christmas time, when the temptation to spend it for whisky, cheap jewelry, cheap buggies, and such unprofitable articles was too strong to be resisted. Had the same value been in the hands of the farmer in the form of corn, vegetables, fruit, stock, or fowls it would have beennot only less likely to be wasted, but it would also have been available for the farmer and his family during the whole or the greater part of the year.
The conditions which I have described had a discouraging effect upon many people who tried to get their living from the soil. As numbers of them expressed it to me, if they worked hard during the year they came out at the end in debt, and if they did not work they found themselves in debt anyhow. Some went so far as to perform only sufficient work to "make a show" of raising enough cotton on which to get "advances" during the year, with no thought of ridding themselves of debt or of coming out ahead.
Notwithstanding these conditions, there were instances each year of individuals who triumphed over all these difficulties and discouragements and came out with considerable money or cotton to their credit. These men soon got to the point where they could begin to buy their own homes.
In justice to the class of men in the South who advance money or provisions each year to the farmers, I ought to say that many of them deplore the state of affairs to which I have referred as much as any one, but with them it is simply a system of lending money on uncertain security. If these advances were not made, in many instances the farmers and their families would starve. The average merchant prefers to deal with the man whoowns his land and can pay cash for his goods, but the many ramifications of the mortgage system make both the farmer and the money-lender slaves to the one-crop plan. If cotton fails, or if the tenant abandons the crop before it is matured, the money-lender is bound to lose. Both with the farmer and the money-lender it has been like the old story of the man hugging the bear, each desperately anxious to find a way to get free.
From the first I was painfully conscious of the fact that I could do very little through the work of the Tuskegee Institute to help the situation, but I was determined to make an effort to do what I could. Many of my own race had been reduced to discouragement and despair. Before the school could begin its practical help I spent all the time that could be spared in going about among the people, holding meetings, and talking with individual leaders, to arouse their ambition, and inspire in them hope and confidence.
My first effort was to try to help the masses through the medium of the thing that was nearest to them, and in which they had the most vital and practical interest. I knew that if we could teach a man's son to raise forty bushels of corn on an acre of ground which had before produced but twenty bushels, and if he could be taught to raise this corn with less labour than before, we should gain the confidence and sympathy of that boy's father at once.
In this connection I have often thought that missionaries in foreign countries would make greater progress if at first more emphasis were placed upon the industrial and material side than upon the purely spiritual side of education. Almost any heathen family would, I believe, appreciate at once the difference between a shack and a comfortable house, while it might require years to make them appreciate the truths of the Bible. Through the medium of the home the heart could be reached. Not long ago I was asked by a missionary who was going into a foreign field what, in my opinion, he ought to teach the people, and how he ought to begin. I asked him what the principal occupation of the people was among whom he was going, and he replied that it was the raising of sheep. I advised him, then, to begin his missionary work by teaching the people how to raise more sheep than they were raising and better sheep, and said that I thought the people would soon decide that a man who could excel them in the raising of sheep might also excel them in the matter of religion, and that thus the foundation for effectual mission work might be laid.
The first few students of our school came largely from the farming districts. The earliest need at the Tuskegee School was food for teachers and students. I said: "Let us raise this food, and while doing so teach the students the latest andbest methods of farming." At the same time we could teach them the dignity and advantages of farm life and of work with their hands. It was easy to see the reasons for doing this, and easy to resolve to do it, but I soon found that there were several stubborn and serious difficulties to be overcome. The first and perhaps the hardest of these was to conquer the idea, by no means confined to my race, that a school was a place where one was expected to do nothing but study books; where one was expected not to study things, but to study about things. Least of all did the students feel that a school was a place where one would be taught actually todothings. Aside from this, the students had a very general idea that work with the hands was in a large measure disgraceful, and that they wanted to get an education because education was something which was meant to enable people to live without hand work.
In addition to the objections named, I found that when I began to speak very gently and even cautiously to the students about the plan of teaching them to work on the farm, two other objections manifested themselves with more or less emphasis. One was that most of the students wanted to get out of the country into a town or a city, and the other that many of them said they were anxious to prepare themselves for some kind of professional life, and that they therefore did not need the farmwork. The most serious obstacle, however, was the argument that since they and their parents for generations back had tilled the soil, they knew all there was to be known about farming, and did not need to be taught any more about it while in school.
These objections on the part of the students were reinforced by the parents of many of them. Not a few of the fathers and mothers urged that because the race had been worked for two hundred and fifty years or more, now it ought to have a chance to rest. With all of my earnestness and argument I was unable in the earlier years of the school to convert all the parents and students to my way of thinking, and for this reason many of the students went home of their own accord or were taken home by their parents. None of these things, however, turned the school aside from doing the things which we were convinced the people most needed to have done for them.
I shall always remember the day when we decided actually to begin the teaching of farming—not out of books, but by real and tangible work. In the morning I explained to the young men our need of food to eat, and the desire of the school to teach them to work with their hands. I told them that we would begin with the farm, because that was the most important need. The young men were greatly surprised when the hour came to begin work to find me present with my coat off, ready to begindigging up stumps and clearing the land. As my first request was more in the form of an invitation than a command, I found that only a few reported for work. I soon learned, too, that these few were ashamed to have any one see them at work. After we had put in several hours of vigorous toil I noticed that their interest began to grow, because they came to realise that it was notmyfarm they were helping to cultivate, but that it belonged to the school, in which we all had a common interest. The next afternoon a larger number reported for duty. They were still shy about having any one see them at work, however, and were especially timorous at the idea of being caught in the field by the girl students.
Gradually, year by year, the difficulties which I have enumerated began to melt away, but not without constant effort and very trying embarrassments. It soon became evident that the students had practical knowledge of only one industry, and that was the cultivation of cotton in the manner in which it had been grown by their fathers for years. Another defect soon became evident, and that was that they had little idea of caring for tools or live stock. Plows, hoes, and other farming implements were left in the field where they were last used. If quitting time came when the hoe was being used in the middle of a field or at the end of a row, the tool remained there over night. Where the last plowing in the fall was done, there the plow would mostlikely spend the winter. No better care than this was given to wagons or harness, and mules and horses shared this impartial neglect.
It was the custom in the earlier days of the school—as it is now—for students and teachers to assemble in the evening for prayers. After considerable ineffective effort to teach the students to put their implements away properly at night, I caused a mild sensation at evening prayers by calling the names of three students who had left their implements in the field. I said that these three students would be excused from the room to attend to this duty, and that we would not proceed with the service until their return, and that I felt sure they would be more benefited by prayer and song after having done their work well than by leaving it poorly done. A few lessons of this kind began to work a notable betterment in the care with which the students looked after their implements, and attended to other details of their daily round.
THE REPAIR SHOP
THE REPAIR SHOPAll of the broken furniture of the school is mended here
I cannot emphasise too often the fact that my experience in building up the Tuskegee Institute has taught me year by year the value of hand work in the building of character. I have frequently found one concrete, definite example illustrating the difference between right and wrong worth more than hours of abstract lecturing on morality. I have told girls many times that a dish is either thoroughly washed and dried or it is not. If a thing is not well done, it is poorly done. Furthermore, I have taught our girls from the beginning of this school that a student who receives pay for properly attending to dishes, and does her work poorly, is guilty of two wrongs. She is guilty of falsehood and guilty of receiving money for doing something which she has not done.
This lesson taught in the kitchen, with the carelessly cleaned utensil in evidence as an illustration, has a power that is hard to resist. Just so the implement left in the field over night has many times been made to teach the same lessons—of warning against untruth and dishonesty. Leavingit there was untruthful, because the student had said by his action that he had properly performed the work of the day; it was dishonest because the school had been robbed of a portion of the value of the implement by reason of the rain and dew falling on it and causing it to rust and depreciate in value.
In the beginning our methods of instruction in farming were primitive and crude, but month by month, and year by year, steady growth encouraged our efforts. One difficulty to which I have not referred was that the land on which we began work was not the richest in the world. When attention was called by the students and others to the poor quality of the soil, I replied that poor soil was the best in which to begin the teaching of agriculture, because this would give us an opportunity to learn to make poor land rich. I told them also that if we could teach the students how to cultivate poor land profitably they would have little difficulty in making more than a living upon fairly good or rich soil.
Apart from the problems found on the school grounds, our methods were at first misunderstood by school officials in high authority throughout the country, and our aims were not appreciated by other schools established in the South for the education of my race. I remember that after I had spoken for an hour at a meeting of a State Teachers' Association, trying to explain themeaning and advantages of industrial education or hand work, a teacher arose and asked the State superintendent, who was present, a very simple question regarding the subject. The superintendent replied that he would have to refer the question to me, as the subject was one that he had never heard discussed before. It happened occasionally that students on their way to the Tuskegee Institute were asked if they were going to an "ox-driving school," the question implying, I suppose, that the main thing taught at Tuskegee was ox-driving. Our critics, however, did not know that at the time we were too poor to own oxen, and that on our little farm we had nothing in the way of draught animals except one poor blind horse which a white friend in Tuskegee had given us.
During the first year the training in agriculture on the school farm consisted of about two hours of work daily for each of the young men students, the remaining time being spent in the class rooms. The outdoor period, during the first school session, was mostly spent in grubbing up stumps, felling trees, building fences, making ditches, and in plowing the ground preparatory to planting a little crop. We had few implements with which to do this work, and most of these were borrowed. The reader will realise how hard it must have been under these conditions to make the student feel that he was acquiring new knowledge of farm life. As I recall it now, I amsure that the main thing that we were able to teach the students in those early days was that book education did not mean a divorce from work with the hands.
Gradually we were able to secure more land for farming purposes and to cultivate what we did have to better advantage. As the school grew, we learned more about the proper fertilisation of the soil, and how to use labor-saving machinery more effectively. It was surprising to note how many of the students believed that farm labour must from its very nature be hard, and that it was not quite the proper thing to use too much labour-saving machinery. Indeed, many of the white planters in certain sections of the South have until recently refused to encourage the use of much agricultural machinery, for the reason, as they stated it, that such assistance would spoil the Negro "farm hands." For some years the Tuskegee Institute did not escape this charge. As our department of farming grew from month to month, I was not afraid to let it be known that I felt certain that one result of any proper system of hand trainingwasto spoil, or get rid of, the ordinary "farm hand." If one will study the industrial development of the South, he will be forced to the conclusion that one of the factors that has most retarded its progress has been and is the "farm hand." This individual has too long controlled the agriculture of the South.With few exceptions, he is ignorant and unskilled, with little conscience. He seldom owns the land which he pretends or tries to cultivate. Too often he is a person who has no permanent abiding place, and if he has one it is probably a miserable one-room cabin. The "farm hand" can be hired for from forty to sixty cents a day. In fact, I have known of cases where such men were hired for twenty-five cents a day and their board; and they were very dear help even at that price.
IN THE AGRICULTURAL LABORATORY
IN THE AGRICULTURAL LABORATORY
I believe that most of the worn-out and wasted fields, the poor stock, the run-down fences, the lost and broken farm tools and machinery, as well as the poor crops, are chargeable to the "farm hand" whom, I have been warned so many times, I must be careful not to spoil. Such a man is too ignorant to know what is going on in the world in progressive agriculture. He is without skill to such an extent that he knows almost nothing about setting up and operating labour-saving machinery. His conscience has not been trained, and hence he has little idea of giving an honest day's labour for a day's pay, and of doing unto others in matters of labour as he would have others do unto him.
It will be seen at a glance that such a worker in the soil as this cannot compete with the farmer of the Northwest, who owns the land that he cultivates, who is intelligent, and who uses the latest improved farm machinery. One such man is worth as muchto the general industrial interests of a country as three "farm hands." No country can be very prosperous unless the people who cultivate the soil own it and live on it. I repeat, then, that one of my first thoughts in beginning agricultural training at the Tuskegee Institute was to help to replace the "farm hand" of the South with something better.
As an illustration of the need of new ideas in farming, and of the effect that the long-continued cultivation of a single crop has upon the tiller, I remember that some years ago I invited a farmer into my office and explained to him in detail how he could make thirty dollars an acre on his land if he would plant a portion of it in sweet potatoes, whereas if he planted cotton, as he had been doing for years, he could make only fifteen dollars per acre in the best season. As I explained the difference, step by step, he agreed with me at every point, and when I came near to the end of my argument I began to congratulate myself that I had converted at least one man from the one-crop system to better methods. Finally, with what I fear was the air of one who felt that he had won his case, I asked the farmer what he was going to cultivate on his land the coming year. The old fellow scratched his head, and said that as he was getting old, and had been growing cotton all his life, he reckoned he would grow it to the end of his few remaining years, although he agreed with me thathe could double the product of his land by planting sweet potatoes on it.
Soon after we had succeeded in clearing the trees and stumps from a few acres of ground, we planted a small crop. This crop, as I have stated, was not very different from others which the students had seen planted or had taken part in planting at their homes, because the school was poor in implements and stock. The main difference between our first crop and those which the students had come into contact with at their homes was that ours was to some extent a diversified crop. The increasing number of students soon made it necessary to increase the acreage of land cultivated. In the first few months of the Tuskegee Institute the students boarded in families. This made it difficult to get the greatest value out of our farm products. Partly to overcome this, we arranged to begin boarding the students upon the school grounds. Here another difficulty presented itself. It was found that a student would be of little value to the farm and would gain very little in knowledge and skill if he worked only a few hours each day. We discovered that, after there had been subtracted the minutes required for him to reach his work, get his tools, and otherwise prepare himself, little time would be left for getting actual results out of the soil. In order to overcome this weakness in our system, we decided to follow in some measure the planoriginated by General Armstrong at the Hampton Institute. This was to have the students study in the class rooms during four days of the week, and work on the farm two days. The students, however, for a long while referred to these two days as "lost days."
It was often amusing, as well as interesting, to note the intense faith of the students in their books. The larger the book and the bigger the words it contained, the more highly it was revered. At this time there were almost no text-books which dealt with industrial subjects. For this reason, any one who wanted to give instructions in such branches had, in a very large measure, to "blaze" his way. The absence of text-books on these subjects made it all the more difficult at first to combine industrial and academic teaching. We partly solved the problem by having the students work two days at some industry and study four days in the school-room.
We found it advisable to consider not only the best system of teaching in our practical work, but the economic values also. We felt that it would be possible to teach the students the latest and best methods of performing all kinds of hand work, and at the same time show them the dignity of such service. But in addition to this we wanted the students to do such work as they could about the school, work which otherwise would have been done by hired men not connected with the institution.
ROAD-BUILDING BY TUSKEGEE STUDENTS
ROAD-BUILDING BY TUSKEGEE STUDENTS
We felt, therefore, that the fair thing to do would be to arrange some scheme by which the student would receive compensation for all the work of value which he did for the school. This we felt was not only just, but would emphasise another valuable element in teaching. The lack of this economic emphasis I have always felt to be one of the weak points in manual training. To enable us to meet this condition, we decided to have the students board on the school grounds, to charge them eight dollars per month for their board, and then to give them credit on their board-bills for all the work they did which proved to have productive or money-saving value.
Aside from the economic results of the work, we knew that the mere effort on the part of the student to help himself through school by labour would prevent our making "hot-house plants" of our students, and would prove worth while in character building. In all cases payment for work depended upon the individual efforts of the students. One of the dominating purposes kept always in mind was to give the student a chance to help himself by means of some industry. In this connection, I beg to say that in my judgment the whole problem of the future of my race hinges largely upon the question: "To what extent will the Negro, when given a chance, help himself, and make himself indispensable to the community in which he lives?"
We soon learned that in the practical application of our scheme the average student would earn from two to three dollars a month by working two days in the week, leaving only five or six dollars to be paid in cash. Some students were so much in earnest that they worked out more than half of the eight dollars. This opportunity proved a godsend to most of the students, as very few of them were able to pay the eight dollars a month in cash during nine months of the year. Aside from other considerations, we began to find out that we could quickly test the worth of a student by the degree of earnestness which he evinced in helping himself through labour with his hands. After a little while, many of the students began to take great pride in telling their parents at the end of each month how much they had helped themselves through their work on the farm or in other industries. This information and enthusiasm came in time to have its influence in leading the parents to appreciate the value of hand training.
As the school grew in size and experience, it became apparent that we ought to find a way to help the large number of young men and women who were constantly seeking admission, but who had no money with which to pay any portion of their expenses. We became convinced that some of the most promising and worthy students were those who came from the country districts, wherethey had had very few advantages of book education. They had little or no money, but they had good strong bodies, and were not ashamed to work with their hands. In reaching this class of students I found that my experience at the Hampton Institute was of great advantage. We decided to start a night school for students who could not afford to go to school in the day time. The number who availed themselves of this arrangement was very small at first. We began by making a written contract with each student to the effect that he or she was to work during the whole of the day at some industry, and study in the class room for two hours at night, after the day's work was completed. In order to put this plan upon a sound basis, the following form of contract was signed:
TUSKEGEE NORMAL AND INDUSTRIAL INSTITUTE.(INCORPORATED.)This agreement, made the seventeenth day of October, 1902, between James C. Black, of the first part, and Booker T. Washington, Principal of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, of the second part,Witnesseth, that the said James C. Black has agreed faithfully, carefully and truly to serve The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, in whatever capacity the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., or those deputed by him, may designate, from date hereof to the seventeenth day of October, 1904.In consideration of service to be rendered by James C. Black,the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., has agreed to allow said James C. Black eight dollars per month, provided he remains until October 17, 1904; otherwise he has agreed to pay him at the rate of one-fifth of that sum per month for the time he may have been in the service of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute; this latter amount to include all amounts which may have been charged against said James C. Black.It is agreed, further, that the amount earned shall be reserved in the hands of the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., the same to be used in paying the expenses of said James C. Black in the regular classes of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute. In case the said James C. Black leaves school voluntarily, or is dismissed after the expiration of the time for which he agrees to serve, he is to forfeit all that the school may owe him at that time.It is further agreed that no part of what said James C. Black may earn shall be transferred to another's account, but shall be kept for James C. Black's exclusive use after he shall have entered the Day School.It is distinctly understood that what said James C. Black may earn is for the purpose of paying board, and no part can be drawn in cash.In witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hands and seals.James C. Black(L. S.)Booker T. Washington(L. S.)Witness: {Abram T. Blackett{George F. May
TUSKEGEE NORMAL AND INDUSTRIAL INSTITUTE.
(INCORPORATED.)
This agreement, made the seventeenth day of October, 1902, between James C. Black, of the first part, and Booker T. Washington, Principal of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, of the second part,
Witnesseth, that the said James C. Black has agreed faithfully, carefully and truly to serve The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, in whatever capacity the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., or those deputed by him, may designate, from date hereof to the seventeenth day of October, 1904.
In consideration of service to be rendered by James C. Black,the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., has agreed to allow said James C. Black eight dollars per month, provided he remains until October 17, 1904; otherwise he has agreed to pay him at the rate of one-fifth of that sum per month for the time he may have been in the service of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute; this latter amount to include all amounts which may have been charged against said James C. Black.
It is agreed, further, that the amount earned shall be reserved in the hands of the said Booker T. Washington, Principal, etc., the same to be used in paying the expenses of said James C. Black in the regular classes of The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute. In case the said James C. Black leaves school voluntarily, or is dismissed after the expiration of the time for which he agrees to serve, he is to forfeit all that the school may owe him at that time.
It is further agreed that no part of what said James C. Black may earn shall be transferred to another's account, but shall be kept for James C. Black's exclusive use after he shall have entered the Day School.
It is distinctly understood that what said James C. Black may earn is for the purpose of paying board, and no part can be drawn in cash.
In witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hands and seals.
James C. Black(L. S.)Booker T. Washington(L. S.)
Witness: {Abram T. Blackett{George F. May
The system we decided to use at Tuskegee divided the school into two classes of students: those who worked with their hands two days in the week, and spent four days in the class room; and the night students, who, through the first year of their course, worked all day with their hands and spent their evenings in the class rooms. Of course, the student who worked ten hours each day was paid more than the one who laboured only two days in the week. The night-school students were to earn, not only their board, but something in addition. The surplus was to be used in paying their expenses in the regular day school after they had remained in the night school one or two years as they might elect. The night school, besides other opportunities, gave the student a chance to get a start in his books and also in some trade or industry. With this as a foundation, I have rarely seen a student who was worth much fail to pass through the regular course.
The night school had not been in session many weeks before several facts began to makethemselves prominent. The first was the economic value of the work of the night students. It was plain that these students could perform much labour for which we should otherwise have had to pay out cash to persons not connected with the institution. It is true that the work at first was crude, but it should be remembered that in the earlier years the whole school was crude. All work in laying the foundation for a race is crude.
The economic value of hand work at the Tuskegee Institute can be illustrated in no better way than by data of the construction of our buildings. When a friend has given us twenty-five thousand dollars for a building, instead of having it constructed by an outside contractor, we have had the students produce the material and do the work as far as possible, and through this method a large proportion of the money given for the building passes into the hands of the students, to be used in gaining an education. The plan has a double value, for, in addition to the twenty-five thousand dollars which is diverted into channels through which a large number of students get an education, the school receives the building for permanent use.
BUILDING A NEW DORMITORY
BUILDING A NEW DORMITORYStudents draw plans, dig foundations, make the brick, cut timber, which they saw and make into joists and frames. The painting,plastering, plumbing and roofing are also done by the students under the direction of their instructors.
Let us value the work at Tuskegee by this test: The plans for the Slater-Armstrong Memorial Trades' Building, in its main dimensions 283 × 315 feet, and two stories high, were drawn by a coloured man, our instructor in mechanical drawing. Eight hundredthousand bricks were required in its construction, and every one of them was manufactured by our students while learning the trade of brick-making. All the bricks were laid into the building by students who were being taught the trade of brickmasonry. The plastering, carpentry work, painting, and tin-roofing were done by students while learning these trades. The whole number of students who received training on this building alone was 196. It is lighted by electricity, and all the electric fixtures were put in by students who were learning electrical engineering. The power to operate the machinery in this building comes from a 125 horse-power engine and a 75 horse-power boiler. All this machinery was not only operated by students who were learning the trade of steam engineering, but was installed by students under the guidance of their instructor.
For other examples of the amount of work that our students do in the direction of self-help, I would mention the fact that they manufactured 2,990,000 bricks during the past twelve months; 1,367 garments of various kinds have been made in the tailor shop, and 541,837 pieces have been laundered in the laundry division by the girls.
Agriculture is the industry which we plan to make stand out most prominently; and we expect more and more to base much of our other training upon this fundamental industry. There are two reasons why we have not been able to send out as manystudents from our agricultural department as we have desired:
First, agriculture was the industry most disliked by the students and their parents in the earlier years of the school. It required nearly ten years to overcome this prejudice.
Second, nearly all of our buildings, seventy-two in number, have been built by the students, and the building trades have, of necessity, been emphasised. As soon as the building period slackens, we shall be able to send out a larger number skilled in all the branches of agriculture.
I have been asked many times about the progress of the students in the night school as compared with those in the day school. In reality, there is little difference. A student who studies two hours at night and works with his hands ten hours during the day, naturally covers less ground in the text-books than the day student, yet in real sound growth and the making of manhood, I question whether the day student has much advantage over the student in the night school. There is an indescribable something about work with the hands that tends to develop a student's mind. The night-school students take up their studies with a degree of enthusiasm and alertness that is not equalled in the day classes. I have known instances where a student seemed so dull or stupid that he made practically no progress in the study of books. He was awayfrom the books entirely for a few months and put to work at a trade; at the end of a few months he has returned to the class room, and it has been surprising to note how much more easily he could master the text-books than before. There is something, I think, in the handling of a tool that has the same relation to close, accurate thinking that writing with a pen has in the preparation of a manuscript. Nearly all persons who write much will agree, I think, that one can produce much more satisfactory work by using the pen than by dictation.