From many such contests we were saved by the skill of the examiners in Whitehall. From long experience and not, I am sure, from any congenial dullness of mind, they got to know exactly how a thoroughly stupid manager might misinterpret a harmless phrase; and if they kindly forewarned me, I gratefully substituted something suitable to the meanest capacity. The knavish speech may sleep in the foolish ear, but simple speech may kindle amazing suspicion that will blaze into wrath.
In more remote days our reports were twofold. The full report was sent to the Department, and, if approved, was forwarded to the managers. But, in addition, every certificated teacher who had passed through a period of probation had a parchment certificate of merit; and on this it was our duty to inscribe an epigrammatic abstract of the report on the school, or, if he were a class teacher, on his class. The advantage of this “endorsement” was great. It gave managers of schools a complete history of an applicant’s career. It gave an inspector still more valuable information; for in reading previous endorsements he was often able to supply a good deal that was not apparent on the surface. The opinions of some inspectors had a special value. Others were less esteemed. I was told that one very important School Board had a sort of table, equating the official opinions of all the inspectors in England. But I never heard what Mrs. Harris (teste Mrs. Gamp) would have called “my individgle number.”
The ordinary inspector soon acquired the habit of framing his endorsement on the general principles of his craft. It was not thought fair to speak ill of a teacher on his certificate, unless there were special grounds. Therefore one proceeded by judicious omission. If one read that Mr. A. “taught the elementary subjects with fair success” one drew two inferences; (1) that he could not teach anything else; (2) that his discipline was weak, because it was not mentioned. But if it was stated that Mrs. B. “maintained good order, and was particularly successful in teaching handwriting,” it became obvious that her arithmetic was a deplorable failure. So that to the trained eye the suppressio veri was not a suggestio falsi.
But useful as the system was, it was open to two strong objections. Firstly, it was often hard on a teacher, for the inspector might err, and the endorsement was permanent. Secondly, and this was the last straw, it became an intolerable nuisance to the inspector. In a school of 100 children it was easy to be terse, innocuous, and fairly truthful. But I open a recent notebook, and find a school of 600 boys with 21 teachers. Supposing that ten of these teachers want certificate reports; conceive the strain on the imagination, or the commonplace book! Therefore a cynical and eccentric colleague adopted the startling method of applying the same treatment to all. If this school of 600 boys passed a good examination on the whole, but had two weak classes out of the twenty, then the correct summary would be—“The school has on the whole passed a good examination. Standards II.(b) and III.(c) are not equal to the rest.” And he wrote this on the certificates of all the ten men. Eight at least would say, “What have I to do with the two black sheep? Mine are white.” But the inspector replied, like Mrs. Prig, “Who do you think’s to wash one feater, and miss another, and wear out one’s eyes with all manner of fine work of that description, for half-a-crown a day?” Or words to that effect.
It was recorded of another inspector, whose massive intellect had partly given way under the strain of compiling reports, that in a certain school he wrote:
“The master’s wife has lately died: the school has been painted pea-green.
“J. Tearem, H.M.I.”
These records, I said, were indelible: but there was nothing to prevent a teacher from (so to speak) suiciding his parchment certificate and lamenting its loss for the rest of his life. If the parchment was lost, the Department declined to replace it, unless it had been lost by an inspector. Probably the inspectors lost more than the teachers destroyed, but it was rumoured that the latter method was not unknown. An alternative remedy was to erase undesirable words, and, if necessary, to introduce amendments. This certainly was done occasionally, for there were cases of detection, and that suggests the existence of undetected cases. A more remarkable course was to hire, or buy the parchment of a retired teacher, if possible a homonym, and to trade under that new name with such alterations as were necessary. A colleague told me of a case, which he declared was well known in the village in which the vendor lived. It was in Wales, and it was no one’s business to interfere.
A touching story of a lost parchment is told by one inspector. These documents were not issued till after a period of probation, and if results during that period were not satisfactory, the term might be prolonged indefinitely. A London teacher, when her first chance came, was unsuccessful; and when the next chance came she was more than usually anxious. The inspection went smoothly: she began to hope: and day after day she sat like Mariana, lamenting the delay. Then came the joyful announcement that “the certificate of merit would shortly be issued,” and she became more clamorous. It happened one day, that illness kept her at home on the south side of the Thames, and she sent strictest orders that, if the big envelope with official heading arrived, it was to be locked up in the desk with special care. That very day it came, and the assistant mistress in her friendly zeal determined to disregard orders, and with her own hands to carry it to her care-worn chief. It would do her more good than medicine.
She went by steamer up the Thames, Battersea way; and as it was a cold day, she put the precious burden on her lap, and buried her hands in her muff. There came a sudden gust, which lifted the big square envelope, whirled it round, and tossed it into the river. And she was left lamenting.