Our Girls

by Dio Lewis

TRUE EDUCATION FOR GIRLS.

The School at Lexington, up to the time the buildings were burned, was the truest exponent of education for girls, which has been seen in our country. I say in our country, because my acquaintance with the German methods is not sufficiently complete to justify any comparison between them and the school under consideration.

And yet, as has been shown in other chapters in this work, the curriculum at Lexington was far from philosophical or wise.

The waste of time and money on music and the languages, was immense; the thought of it, even now, awakens in my mind the keenest regrets.

But in this respect, it was no worse than other first-class schools, while in several important particulars, it was greatly superior.

1_st_.—It was a school for girls and young women, and not for young ladies. This is a very important distinction.

2_nd_.—It had a very strong corps of resident teachers, who mingled with the pupils in all their many amusements. In this way a vigilant, earnest public sentiment was developed, which made the trammels and friction of school government quite unnecessary. The girls bore themselves precisely as they would in a drawing-room, in the presence of men and women of dignified manners and fine culture. Indeed, such were the persons constantly mingling with them. They could not escape the feeling that they were placed on their honor. What is called school government, or discipline, we had little or no occasion to think of. If I had space I could tell you some really very touching stories, illustrating the experiences of girls who, for the first time, were in a school where they were not told, but were expected to behave their best.

In so large a company, definite rules were indispensable to concert of action. We had as many rules as other schools, but the spirit in which they were observed, was the distinctive feature of which I have spoken.

I will venture to give one little anecdote, which will serve to illustrate the point under consideration.

One of our bright girls, Mary——, retired on the ringing of the first bell, at half-past eight o'clock; but when the watchman made his nine o'clock round, he found a light burning in Mary's room, and at once left his beat, to report to me. I sent hint to ask if Mary was sick. He returned to say that the light was now out, and that the young woman said she was not sick. He had hardly reported, before Mary appeared at my door in her morning-gown, and said that she was sorry for having failed to observe the hour for turning out the light, but that she had just received a letter from her mother which she wanted very much to answer; that she hoped I would excuse her.

I said, "all right," and she was turning to go back, when, looking very earnestly at me, she said:

"If you knew how much better I behave here, than I ever did at any other school, I am sure you would not blame me for this. When I was at the —— Seminary, we girls spent nearly half our time in devising tricks and dodges. We liked to come it over them, because they were always watching us. Lots of us corresponded with young men, and we left our letters for each other in the crevices of the garden wall; I used to say that if we were half as much interested in our studies, as were in cheating our teachers, we should become as wise as Solomon. But here—why, sir, during all these months that I have been here, I have never heard a word from any girl, which looked like deception. You trust us so completely, and treat us with such respect, that I don't see how the worst girl that ever lived, could even think of doing wrong. It really seems to me, that this spirit in your school is worth more to us than every thing that we could possibly get in our studies."

My own horror of these seminaries, where girls study (under the suggestions and example of the worst among them,) every species of deception and trick, is such, that I would prefer that my daughter should never learn to read the name of the God who made her, rather than acquire all learning and accomplishments, under such demoralizing influences. Thousands of young women while learning a little music and French, acquire a habit of concealment and indirection, which marks all their subsequent career.

In discussing the peculiarities of the Lexington School, I would mention:

3_rd_.—The physical exercises and amusements. The "New Gymnatics" were taught to every member of the school, and practised daily by all, from half an hour to an hour and a half, while dancing was introduced three or four evenings of each week. Besides these, we indulged in many amusing games.

Physical education constituted a part of the regular system, and nothing was left to chance, or to individual proclivity.

In most seminaries, physical exercise is optional with the pupil. If arithmetic were treated in the same way, necessary as it is to civilized life, I fear but little progress would be made.

The average American girl has a delicate body, with numerous aches and weaknesses. The School which does not provide in its curriculum for this average and fundamental condition, seems to me strangely deficient in its educational provisions.

The graduate of a Woman's Seminary, should, like the graduate of a
German University, be as much improved in body as in mind.

Young women, on completing the prescribed course, should be fitted for the active duties of life. This involves, as primary and fundamental, a healthy and vigorous body.

Girls came to our school with the stipulation that they should not room above the second story, not being able to climb higher, who within five months, walked ten miles in three hours, without fatigue.

I was asked to visit a Female Seminary, some miles out of Boston, to witness the exercises of a "Commencement." Seated on the platform with the Principal, she called my attention to the graduating class. Covering her lips with a book, she whispered to me, that "that class of young ladies seated by the organ is the graduating class."

"And they have finished their education?" I asked. She nodded assent.

I gave them a good long look, and felt the wrong so deeply, that I could not resist the temptation to whisper back:

If you had said the girls themselves were finished, I should have understood you; but if you mean that their education is finished, I can only say that it seems to me they have not laid the first stone In the foundation of a true education.

Pale, thin, bent—they had been outrageously humbugged. What amount of languages and music could compensate for this outrage upon the very foundations of their being?

In the Lexington school the course in physical training was very complete. The muscle training was varied and abundant, the pupils retired at half-past eight o'clock, wore no corsets or close dress, kept their extremities warm with flannels and strong shoes, ate plain food, and enjoyed many amusing games and much hearty laughter.

We measured them about the chest, under the arms, on entering the school, and again on leaving, and found that a common increase in eight months was three inches. There was a still more remarkable enlargement of the arms and shoulders, while the change in their manner of walking never failed to impress us all. Female weaknesses, which, in some form, nearly all of them brought to the school, were quickly relieved; and headaches, after the first month of the school year, were almost unknown among us.

I do not wish to protract this discussion of the possibilities in physical development in our girls' schools; but I will say, after such opportunities for observation as no other man on either continent has enjoyed, that it is my deliberate conviction that ninety-nine in every hundred girls, may be so developed, physically, in two years of school life, that they can walk ten miles without fatigue, be free from aches and weaknesses, and be nobly fitted for the grave responsibilities of citizenship and motherhood.

4_th._—I would add that the true school will magnify nature—will make conspicuous in its programme the natural sciences, will push very far the rudimentary English training, will give the most emphatic and determined attention to composition and conversation, and will watch over the manners of the pupil with a truly parental interest.

I have seen coarse, unmannerly boors engaged in teaching girls Latin and Trigonometry. It seems to be thought if they understand the technics of the books, that is enough. Of course they must comprehend what they attempt to teach; but the rare and precious graces in a teacher, are fine manners and conversational powers. More is learned in an hour's conversation with refined, cultured people upon almost any topic, than can be learned in a day from books, even with the assistance of an unrefined, mechanical teacher.

I shall be happy to correspond with parents about the schools of New
England, which are earnest in regard to physical education.