“The fear of starvation,” of which the old economists made so much, is, after all, but a poor incentive to work; and the appeal to cupidity by which a man is induced to “speed up” in all the various devices of piece-work is very little better. Yet the factory still depends upon these as incentives to the ordinary workers. Certainly one would wish to protect children from them as long as possible. In a soap factory in Chicago little girls wrap bars of soap in two covers at the minimum rate of 3,000 bars a week; their only ambition is to wrap as fast as possible and well enough to pass the foreman’s inspection. The girl whose earnings are the largest at the end of the week is filled with pride—praiseworthy, certainly, but totally without educational value.
Let us realize before it is too late that in this age of iron, of machine-tending, and of subdivided labor, we need as never before the untrammeled and inspired activity of youth. To cut it off from thousands of working children is a most perilous undertaking, and endangers the very industry to which they have been sacrificed.
Only of late years has an effort been made by the city authorities, by the municipality itself, to conserve the play instinct and to utilize it, if not for the correction of industry, at least for the nurture of citizenship. It has been discovered that the city which is too careless to provide playgrounds, gymnasiums, and athletic fields where the boys legitimately belong and which the policeman is bound to respect, simply puts a premium on lawlessness. Without these places of their own, groups of boys come to look upon the policeman as an enemy, and he regards them as the most lawless of all the citizens. This is partly due to the fact that because of our military survivals the officer is not brought in contact with the educational forces of the city, but only with its vices and crime. He might have quite as great an opportunity for influencing the morals of youth as the school teacher has. At least one American city spends twenty per cent. more in provision for the conviction of youths than for their education, for the city which fails to utilize this promising material of youthful adventure does not truly get rid of it, and finds it more expensive to care for as waste material than as educative material. At a certain age a boy is possessed by a restless determination to do something dangerous and exciting—a “difficult stunt,” as it were—by which he may prove that he is master of his fate and thus express his growing self-assertion. He prefers to demonstrate in feats requiring both courage and adroitness, and it may be said that tradition is with him in his choice. That this impulse is mixed with an absurd desire on the part of the boy to “show off,” to impress his companions with the fact that he is great and brave and generally to be admired, does not in the least affect its genuineness. The city which fails to provide an opportunity for this inevitable and normal desire on the part of the young citizens makes a grave mistake and invites irregular expression of it. The thwarted spirit of adventure finds an outlet in infinite varieties of gambling; craps, cards, the tossing of discarded union buttons, the betting on odd or even automobile numbers, on the number of newspapers under a boy’s arm. Another end which can be accomplished, if the city recognizes play as legitimate and provides playgrounds and athletic fields, is the development of that self-government and self-discipline among groups of boys, which forms the most natural basis for democratic political life later.
The boy in a tenement-house region who does not belong to the gang is not only an exception, but a very rare exception. This earliest form of social life is almost tribal in its organization, and the leader too often holds his place because he is a successful bully. The gang meets first upon the street, but later it may possess a club room in a stable, in a billiard room, in an empty house, under the viaduct, in a candy store, in a saloon or even in an empty lot. The spirit of association, the fellowship and loyalty which the group inspires, carry them into many dangers; but there is no doubt that it is through these experiences that the city boy learns his political lessons. The training for political life is given in these gangs, and also an opportunity to develop that wonderful power of adaptation which is the city’s contribution, even to the poorest of her children. A clever man once told me that he doubted whether an alderman could be elected in a tenement-house district unless he had had gang experience, and had become an adept in the interminable discussion which every detail of the gang’s activity receives. This alone affords a training in democratic government, for it is the prerogative of democracy to invest political discussion with the dignity of deeds, and to provide adequate motives for discussion. In these social folk-motes, so to speak, the young citizen learns to act upon his own determination. The great pity is that it so often results in a group morality untouched by a concern for the larger morality of the community. Normal groups reacting upon each other would tend to an equilibrium of a certain liberty to all, but this cannot be accomplished in the life of the street where the weaker boy or the weaker gang is continually getting the worst of it. And it is only on the protected playground that the gangs can be merged into baseball nines and similar organizations, governed by well-recognized rules.
We have already democratized education in the interests of the entire community; but recreation and constructive play, which afford the best soil for establishing genuine and democratic social relations, we have left untouched, although they are so valuable in emotional and dynamic power. Further than that, the city that refrains from educating the play motive is obliged to suppress it. In Chicago gangs of boys between fourteen and sixteen years of age, who, possessing work-certificates are outside of the jurisdiction of the truant officer, are continually being arrested by the police, since they have no orderly opportunity for recreation. An enlightened city government would regard these groups of boys as the natural soil in which to sow the seeds of self-government. As every European city has its parade-ground, where the mimics of war are faithfully rehearsed, in order that the country may be saved in times of danger, so, if modern government were as really concerned in developing its citizens as it is in defending them, we would look upon every playing-field as the training-place and parade-ground of mature citizenship.
Frederick the Great discovered and applied the use of the rhythmic step for the marching of soldiers. For generations men had gone forth to war, using martial music as they had used the battle-cry, merely to incite their courage and war spirit; but the music had had nothing to do with their actual marching. The use of it as a practical measure enormously increased the endurance of the soldiers and raised the records of forced marches. Industry at the present moment, as represented by masses of men in the large factories, is quite as chaotic as the early armies were. We have failed to apply our education to the real life of the average factory producer. He works without any inner coherence or sense of comradeship. Our public education has done little as yet to release his powers or to cheer him with the knowledge of his significance to the State.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] For further analysis of the census figures relating to children, consult “Some Ethical Gains Through Legislation.” Mrs. Florence Kelley.
[13] School and Society, by John Dewey.
[14] The Play of Man, Groos, page 394.