THE GRASSHOPPER TEACHER.
By M. K. Smith. Atlanta University, Ga.
A young lad who had found his way from the West coast of Africa to Atlanta University entered my class in entomology last October. Shortly after, when naming the teachers under whose instructions he came daily, he quaintly designated me as his “grasshopper teacher.”
In order to give some idea of the amount of enthusiasm the common grasshopper is capable of rousing in the mind of the average colored student, it may be interesting to give a brief explanation of the method of study pursued.
The pupils had no particular love for the troublesome insect; in fact, they had hitherto entertained for him a sentiment the reverse of friendly, and when I gave each student a pin upon which a grasshopper (it had been killed by immersion in alcohol) was transfixed, a dissatisfied giggle or a contemptuous sniff from each gave evidence that the little world of the class-room was decidedly out of sympathy with the existing state of affairs.
The African boy refused to touch a “specimen,” and regarded me with an expression in which surprise, fear and defiance were blended. The fear was doubtless the result of experience with poisonous insects in his fatherland, while the surprise was that a grasshopper should usurp the place of a book, for which the savage has all the superstitious reverence which characterizes the civilized student, and the defiance probably arose from a resolution that no earthly power should induce him to touch the strange animal. I did not urge him, but quickly called attention to the insect in hand. Without much difficulty they found the principal parts, to which I gave the names, head, thorax and abdomen. By the time these words were written on the board the class was pacified, for the colored student loves new words whose significations are beyond his comprehension just as well as his white brother. When the shape of the head was considered the students realized for the first time the lack of words which is so general among these people. “It’s like a horse’s head,” broke forth a boy, impetuously, while a hum of approval ran along the forms. I accepted the resemblance, and asked them to observe other things in connection with the head, and very soon the eyes were mentioned. I drew on the board a diagram of hexagonal cells, closely connected, and explained that the compound eye of the grasshopper is composed of facets of similar form and each having power of sight.
“Why, he is better off than we are,” exclaimed a wondering youth. “We have only two eyes apiece, while he has thousands of ’em. What’s that for?”
“God made him that way,” returned another, as he handled his “specimen” a little more gently, while the African boy leaned over to get a good look at those queer eyes that were even nicer than his own.
I then called attention to the position of the eyes on the head and secured the statement that by their being placed just as they are the insect can see before, behind and on both sides at the same time. In a moment more than a dozen hands were waving wildly in the air, while two excited youths came to their feet as suddenly as if they had been moved after the manner of a “Jack in the box.” “I know, I know,” shouted one, “they are there so that he can see danger all round him. Many a time I’ve tried to catch him, and I would steal up behind him and ease my hand up soft, soft (the boy illustrated the action) and then just when I thought I had him, he was off!” and the lad’s hands were outspread to imitate the sudden movement of the insect.
I directed attention to the place where the head joins the thorax. “He’s got a collar on,” shouted one. “What is that for?” “To cover the seam nicely, and keep it from harm,” answered another, before I had time to speak, “and it’s made mighty pretty, too,” he continued, admiringly. “I should like to know what this means?” exclaimed another, who had extended his investigations, and now held up to the astonished gazers the under wings, spread out as they had never before seen them. I wish, dear reader, you could have been with us that day, to have felt with me the delight of those people, who for almost the first time were using their eyes as I think God intended they should be used——to give light to the understanding. “Just like a thin lady’s gray veil,” suggested a little girl, as soon as she found a chance to speak, whereupon a quizzical laugh arose, until she explained that the veil was thin, and not the lady.
The African boy at the very next lesson held out his hand for a “specimen,” and throughout the term was as much interested as the others, striving with all his might to announce his discoveries in correct English. The grasshopper became popular. We studied him for more than two weeks and then felt we were only beginning his acquaintance. The students spent their leisure in watching grasshoppers eat, in studying their habits and in finding out their uses. The lessons went on with an eagerness that made the “grasshopper teacher” fear that something must be wrong, for it seemed against all law and order that teacher and taught should have such an uninterruptedly good time.
The pleasure was ever new, while, side by side with the development of power to think and reason, grew a sense of God’s care over and nearness to his creatures.