Cousin-hunting in Scandinavia

by Mary Wilhelmine Williams

Upon my arrival, I discovered on the table in my room various newspaper clippings which my cousin had made, with me in mind, while I was away in the North. The schools had opened during my absence and the clippings all had to do with the Danish educational system, of which democratic Cousin Lars is very proud. And he may well be, for I think that it is no exaggeration to say that the Danish public school system is the finest in Europe. From one of the clippings I learned that every child in the schools of Copenhagen is being taught to swim; from another, that excellent courses in extension work are given in the evenings at sufficiently low prices to enable all those who wish to improve their educations to do so.

These scraps of information roused in me a desire to visit some of the Danish schools; so Cousin Lars directed me to two near-by schools, one a boys’ “gymnasium” and one a public grade school (folke skole). As in most European countries, the public schools are attended only by the children of the poor—the so-called “working classes.” All who can possibly afford it send their children to private schools, lest they lose caste. The gymnasium is a private institution corresponding approximately to our high school.

I went to the gymnasium first, where I visited a class of boys in modern European history. A young man who was also teacher of English was in charge. At the bell signal the two dozen boys marched in and remained standing beside their desks while the teacher introduced me. “You have all heard of a land called the Far West,” said he in English. “We have with us this morning a lady from that far land who has come to observe your cleverness in history.” The boys laughed, and at a sign from the teacher seated themselves. A boy in the front row handed me a text book and a copy of our old friend, Putzger’s Atlas, which they used; and the lesson began. The subject was Napoleon’s campaigns, and at times the discussion became even exciting. But the order in the room was unspeakable; it was nil. The boys—quite a number of them—visited with each other, and talked in whispers and undertones together instead of attending to their lessons. Frequently the master had difficulty in making himself heard above the noise, and in hearing the students who were reciting. At least a half dozen times while I was there he produced a slight lull by “Sh-Sh,” but that was all; he seemed quite used to just that degree of inattention and disorder and did not appear to mind that a visitor was there taking it all in. The teaching, however, was remarkably good, everything considered, and the boys who were called upon to recite appeared well prepared. After all, order is only a minor point. Unfortunately I had to leave before the end of the period. When I rose to go, the class also rose as one boy, and remained standing while I took my leave and made my exit.

Next I went to visit a public school. It was recess when I arrived, and I found the boys and girls in the large yards at the back of the building, playing in the drizzling rain, under the supervision of several teachers. The bell rang almost immediately, and the children marched in. I had expressed to the principal a desire to visit one of the classes—I did not care which—and presently was introduced to a teacher who asked me to visit his beginning class in English. I had for the time forgotten that English was taught in the grades in Denmark, and was very glad of a chance to see it done. The class consisted of twenty-two little boys and girls averaging about eleven years of age. All were healthy, happy little children, clean, and neatly dressed, though children of the poor. To my relief, the order here was perfect. The children paid strict attention to business. The lesson was conducted entirely in English and was admirably taught and admirably learned; the teacher was a master in his profession. He seemed fond of the work and fond of every one of his flock. His evident success helps me to the conviction that there are men who would make first class primary teachers, even for the tiny beginners, the orthodox theory to the contrary notwithstanding. It was a distinct pleasure to me to witness those little Danish children reading, writing, and speaking my native tongue. Teacher as well as pupils spoke with an accent, but the pronunciation was remarkably good. Two or three times, however, the teacher turned to me to inquire, “Can you understand our English?” And when I replied that it was perfectly clear to me, the children looked pleased. I shortly learned that I was not to be a mere auditor. When the first part of the lesson had been covered, the teacher asked me whether I would read it for the children in order that they might hear a pronunciation free from accent. I was delighted at the chance, so I rose and the children held their breaths while I read:

“Work while you work, and play while you play,
That is the way to be happy and gay,”

and other friendly maxims of my childhood days. When I had finished, a general smile of satisfaction spread over the class. The children had evidently measured their pronunciation against mine and had decided that there was not so great a difference after all. When they had worked through another translation, I again read for them; and again the children smiled their pleasure. And so we alternated until it was time for me to go. When I rose there was a little rustle as of a flock of birds rising in the air; and every little child was on his feet; and every one smiled a farewell as I left the room. I should have loved to borrow the class to teach for a while.

The teacher thanked me heartily for my demonstration of English pronunciation and gave me a most cordial invitation to visit his advanced course in English. Last term, he said, two English ladies had visited this class and had read for the children, thus greatly stimulating their interest in the language. Verily, everything is grist that comes to that man’s mill.

My dip into the educational system of Denmark was finished off by a visit to the school museum, which impressed me as being unique. The museum contains every sort of device to help the teacher—models, charts, pictures, natural history specimens. The prices are plainly marked on the “helps” but the objects are not for sale; they are merely on exhibition for the benefit of the teacher who is trying to keep up to date in her methods. The devices can be obtained at the school supply shops. An excellent teachers’ library is housed in the museum also. And trained educators are on hand to answer questions and to give advice to all perplexed pedagogues.

The idea of having a museum for the inspiration of teachers seemed to me an excellent one, but I supposed it something peculiar to Denmark until the chief director, who spake excellent English, informed me that we had one in my own country—at St. Louis, Missouri. The director also told me several things about the schools of Denmark. The caste system which formerly worked such hardships against the children of the poor, he said, is breaking down; and now the children can pass from the public schools to the gymnasium, which prepares for the University; and promising students who can not afford to pay tuition are granted scholarships. There is no opposition to married women’s teaching in the public schools; and if they have children of their own, it is rather assumed that they make better teachers than unmarried ones. The salaries of public school teachers in Denmark seem to compare favorably with those in the Far West, in view of the difference in the cost of living. After a certain number of years of service all teachers are retired upon a pension; and teachers in the country have always a farm which they work, thus having a source of income besides their salaries.

The school system of the Scandinavian countries, as I have indicated, is very fine; and it is very effective. By it the people are educated both mentally and physically; compulsory education laws exist and are enforced; the amount of illiteracy has been reduced to something less than one per cent. Elementary education is free, and opportunities of various sorts for higher education are given to all at but little cost. Much emphasis is placed upon practical as well as “academic” studies; one finds in the lower schools careful training in hygiene and gymnastics, cooking, sewing and sloyd.