III
The young teacher took charge of his first school at the age of fifteen, and taught two terms, but in different schools, as he never failed to observe in later years in an attempt to belittle his professional ability. His first experience as a teacher was in the home school at Alto, and in the winter of ’66-7 he taught in what is still popularly known as “the old Dyar school house,” about three miles east of Alto, in the country. The John Kern of this period is described by one of the students as “tall, straight, boyish in appearance, not particular in his personal appearance, usually having his trousers over a boot strap.” Those still living who knew the future senator as a country school teacher take issue with his own estimate of his success. His methods of instruction were those of an original thinker, and ignoring the hard and fast rules, he succeeded in creating an interest among the students with gratifying results. I am indebted to Albert B. Kirkpatrick, one of his students who was in later years to cross swords with him at the bar, for some interesting recollections which reflect light on the character of the youthful pedagogue:
“The school (Dyar) was large for a country school, about sixty, some boys and girls larger than the teacher. On the playgrounds Kern was one of the boys, and you would scarcely know from his conduct that he was a teacher. One day he ordered a large boy to stand upon the floor and on his refusal Kern told him he could do that or take a whipping. After school he kept the stubborn rebel, together with two other boys as witnesses, and proceeded to administer the castigation which, according to report, was quite severe. One day a dispute arose as to the ownership of a rabbit some boy had caught. Kern acted as presiding judge and found that the boy in possession of the rabbit was not the rightful owner, and fixed as his punishment the restoration of the rabbit and the infliction of lashes, which he proceeded to lay on.
“Kern was good in the common school branches, and he especially delighted to read in McGuffey’s Sixth Reader from Patrick Henry and other oratorical notables. He was fine in the school house debates and generally covered about half the school house in his orations, gesticulating wildly and speaking at the top of his voice.
“He was not methodical in his teaching, but original, and the students seemed to learn rapidly. They liked him, as a rule, although he did not then possess those remarkable social qualities that characterized him in after years.”
The “school house debates” referred to were features of the Dyar school literary and debating society, which owed its existence to Kern’s initiative and bore the pretentious name of the Platonian. It was during the period when the country was torn over the problems of reconstruction, and these furnished the topics for the debates. The sixteen-year-old teacher invariably took part, and his chief competitor was usually Jesse Yager, described as “a solid, substantial citizen of the community and a man of great ability.” In these discussions Kern invariably took a positive stand in favor of a liberal policy toward the white people of the southern states who had returned to their allegiance, and the carpet bagger usually came in for an unmerciful scoring. One who often heard him in those days, Jackson Morrow, in recalling the earnestness and vigor of the boy orator, expresses the opinion that these speeches “would have reflected credit upon the best statesmen of the period.” Such views as were held and advocated by the young school teacher were bold indeed for the time and place. Passions still ran high, and Howard county was extreme in its republicanism of the Thad Stevens variety. Strangely enough, the boldness of the pedagogue in no wise detracted from his personal popularity and served to enhance his reputation. Many years afterward, when Kern, soon after his nomination for vice-president, returned to Kokomo to meet his old friends and neighbors in a great non-partisan reception, Jesse Yager, his polemic adversary of the Platonian days, then a very old man, occupied a place on the platform.
It was during the summer of 1866 that the pedagogue, a member of the “Alto Dramatic Society,” made his first and only appearance “on any stage” as an actor in “The Demons of the Glass.” Mr. Morrow gives an interesting description of the occasion.
“The entertainment,” he writes, “was held on a delightful summer evening in a grove not far from the village of Alto. The stage was built of rough lumber and lighted by kerosene lamps, but a full moon flooding the landscape with a mellow light, and the great spreading tops of centuries-old forest trees gave this primitive stage a beauty and dignity hard to surpass. The show was free and the people came en masse from far and near, and when the curtain rose on the entertainment a very large audience was waiting. Kern was easily the star of the evening. So realistic was his acting of the husband and father becoming a drunkard and bringing poverty and ruin on a happy home, that an unpleasant sadness stole over the audience and a strong temperance lesson was impressed upon the people present. As a boy John Kern was an enthusiastic ‘dry.’”
It was toward the close of his last term of teaching that he became an active member of the Methodist church, the occasion of his conversion being a revival meeting held at Albright’s chapel. For a time he became deeply religious, taking his church duties with a seriousness that attracted attention. This ostentatious spirit of worship soon passed.
During these teaching days, when the young pedagogue was preaching temperance, damning the radicalism of the Thad Stevens, protesting against carpetbag government in the southern states, practicing his embryo eloquence upon debating societies in the woods, and experiencing a spiritual awakening, he was attracting attention throughout the community
and county as a youth of precocious ability and rare gifts. This did not affect his natural modesty or his relations with young people of his own age. The society of Alto and the neighborhood could scarcely be described as “fashionable,” but its members were genuine and its friendships real. Writing of his boyish characteristics, Mr. Morrow says: “His friendship was steady and faithful. I never knew him to cut a friend as the mood or occasion might suggest. He appeared to always meet his friend with a smile and a friendly handclasp that impressed one as real, and he manifested his interest in helpful ways. He had been trained to know the value of a dollar, taught that it represented real value and should not be squandered, but if he met a friend in need and he had a dollar in his pocket that dollar was his friend’s at once. He had large sympathies and in a sense he was his brother’s keeper. His general character never changed.”
During these pedagogue days he was giving careful attention to the selection of a college in which to prepare himself for the law, and his choice fell on the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, then the great school of the west, with Cooley at the head of the lecture corps. He had not accumulated so much that he did not have to carefully consider the expense without drawing liberally upon his father, and this he had determined not to do. The living expenses at Ann Arbor presented an attractive prospect as well as the faculty, and in September, 1867, he set out for the university determined to make the most of his opportunities.