School Credit for Home Work

by L. R. Alderman

SPRING VALLEY SCHOOL, OREGON, WHERE HOME CREDITS WERE GIVEN, 1911-1912

In answer to the query of some visitors if this giving of credit for home work did not interfere with school work, Mr. O'Reilly pointed to the record in the county spelling contest, in which his school had earned 100 per cent that month.

The county superintendent, Mr. Seymour, had announced that a banner would be given to his rural schools showing that they were standard schools as soon as they should meet certain requirements. These requirements were well-drained school grounds; school building properly lighted, heated, and ventilated; schoolhouse and grounds neat and attractive; sanitary outbuildings; walk made to building and outbuildings; individual drinking-cups; the purchase each year of one standard picture; thorough work on the part of teacher and pupils; the enrollment of every pupil in the spelling contest; and an average of 95 per cent in attendance. Spring Valley was the first school in the county to receive the banner and become a standard school.

The county superintendents of Oregon were assembled at Salem in January, 1912, for the purpose of grading teachers' examination papers. They were much interested in what they heard of Mr. O'Reilly's work at Spring Valley and accepted with great pleasure the invitation of Mr. Seymour to visit the school. As that day in Mr. O'Reilly's school is significant, I wish to quote an article about it written by T. J. Gary, superintendent of Clackamas County. Mr. Gary's article was printed in one of the Oregon City papers in January, 1912.

Last Saturday seventeen county school superintendents and the superintendent of public instruction drove through the wind and rain to Spring Valley, Polk County, to attend a parent-teachers' meeting. Why? Because we had heard much of a new plan that was being tried out by the teacher, pupils, and parents of the school in that beautiful valley. Did we go because it was a new plan? No. If we should try to investigate every new plan we would be going all the time. We went because we thought we saw a suggestion, at least, of a solution of two very important problems: "How to bring the school and the home into closer relation," and "How to make the boys and the girls in the country love their home."

We arrived at the Spring Valley School at 10.30 A.M. and observed first a board walk from the road to the schoolhouse door and a well-drained school-yard free from all rubbish, such as sticks, pieces of paper, and so forth.

Upon entering the room we observed that the directors had made provision for the proper heating, lighting, and ventilation of the schoolroom. On the walls were three nicely framed pictures, the "Sistine Madonna," "The Christ," and "The Lions," all beautiful reproductions of celebrated works of art. The building was a modest one, much like many school buildings we find through the country, but there was about it that which said plainer than words can say it, "This is a well-ordered school."

Looking to the right, we saw on a partition wall, on the floor, and on the side wall, a variety of articles: aprons, dresses, doilies, handbags, handkerchiefs, kites, traps, bird houses, and various other things made by the boys and girls of the school. At the left in the other corner of the room were loaves of bread, pies, cakes, tarts, doughnuts, and other tempting things prepared by the girls and boys. The writer sampled various edibles, among them a cake baked by Master Z——, son of our ex-superintendent, J. C. Z——. I can cheerfully say that it was the kind of cake that makes a man want more.

These things were all of interest to us, but the one thing we were most curious to know about was the system the teacher had of giving credits for home work; not school work done at home, but all kinds of honest work a country girl or boy can find to do. Pupils were given five minutes credit for milking a cow, five minutes for sleeping in fresh air, five minutes for taking a bath, and so on through the long list of common duties incident to home life in the country. The rule of the school is that any pupil who has earned six hundred minutes may have a holiday, at the discretion of the teacher. If the pupil asks for a holiday to use for some worthy cause the teacher grants it, providing it does not interfere too much with the pupil's school work.

Space will not permit my giving a more detailed account of the plan. I trust that enough has been given to show the principle involved. The teacher was subjected to volley after volley of questions from the superintendents, but was able to answer all of them with alacrity. The chairman called upon the parents to give their testimony as to the success of the movement. I cannot write here all that was said, but will give two statements as fair samples of all.

One good motherly-looking country woman said: "Before this plan was started I got up in the morning and prepared breakfast for the family, and after breakfast saw to the preparation of the children for school. Now, when morning comes the girls insist upon my lying in bed so that they may get breakfast. After breakfast they wash the dishes, sweep the kitchen, and do many other things as well as make their own preparation for school. I think the plan is a success. My only fear is that it will make me lazy."

One father said: "I have two boys—one in the high school and Jack, here. It was as hard work to get the older boy out in the morning as it was to do the chores, and as Jack was too young to be compelled to do the work, I let them both sleep while I did it. Now, when the alarm sounds, I hear Jack tumbling out of bed, and when I get up I find the fires burning and the stock at the barn cared for; so all I have to do is to look happy, eat my breakfast, and go about my business. Yes, it is a great success in our home."

At this point Superintendent Alderman said: "Jack, stand, we want to see you," and Jack, a bright, manly-appearing country boy of fourteen years stood blushing, while we looked our appreciation.

One man told of the many things that his daughter had done, whereupon it was suggested that she might do so much that her health would be in danger. A pleasant smile flitted across the face of the father as he said, "Daughter, stand and let these men see if they think you are injuring your health." A bright, buxom, rosy-cheeked girl—the very picture of health and happiness—arose while we laughed and cheered.

To the question, "Does this work interfere with the work of the school?" the teacher pointed to the record of the school in a spelling contest that is being conducted in this county, and read "100 per cent for this month; 98.12 per cent for last," and said, "No, I find that the children have taken more interest in their work and are making more progress than before."

When alone, after time for reflection, I thought, "One swallow does not make a summer" and one school does not prove that this is a good plan. In Spring Valley the conditions are ideal,—a board of directors who do their duty, a citizenship that is far above the average, girls and boys from well-ordered homes of a prosperous people, a teacher who would succeed anywhere with half a chance, a wide-awake, sympathetic county school superintendent,—and yet I thought if this is good for the Spring Valley School, might it not be a good thing for all our schools? I have not reached a conclusion, but have had much food for thought, and am more than pleased with my experience and observation.

What do you think about it, gentle reader? Is it a passing fancy? A fad, if you please? Or is it a means for training boys and girls to habits of industry and to a wholesome respect for honest toil? Will it bring the home and the school into closer relation? And will it cause the country boys and girls to love their homes, to love the country with its singing birds, its babbling brooks, its broad fields and friendly hills?

There was not a school in the State that responded better to any movement initiated by the State or county than the one in Spring Valley. Every pupil was greatly interested in the boys' and girls' industrial and agricultural contest which Oregon carried on that year for the first time. The children raised cabbage plants at school, protected from the cold by a tent that Mr. O'Reilly provided. They planned to sell them to the neighbors in order to get money for seeds, but were sadly disappointed, when they came to school one morning, to find that a cow had broken in during the night and destroyed almost every plant. The owner of the cow paid them the value of the plants, but they were never quite so happy over the fund as they would have been if the plants had been allowed to grow.

Six weeks before the end of the school year Mr. O'Reilly began making Saturday trips to Salem to arrange for the fair with which he intended to close the school. The merchants subscribed liberally for prizes both for the children's work and for the athletic events which Mr. O'Reilly had planned for the afternoon. A local piano house sent out a piano for the occasion, and an amusement company put up a merry-go-round, and stands for lemonade, ice-cream, and all the rest that goes with a first-class picnic. The picnic was held in the grove a short distance from the schoolhouse. Mr. O'Reilly and the neighbors had made a platform for which the children's work formed the background,—dresses, bird houses, fancy work, cakes, bread, and other articles,—and had made seats of rough lumber for the crowd. And a crowd it was, for the whole county was interested in the Spring Valley School. This was one of the first local fairs in connection with the county school fairs which were held throughout the State, and the awards were also to be made to the children who had earned the most credits in the home credit contest.