This lady was invited to dine at the home of the school board president; a prominent judge, a wealthy Republican politician—and incidentally a gross bar-room animal. The primary purpose of the judge was to get the lady to appoint his daughter as a teacher in her department; but before bringing up that subject, he brought up another one. “I want you to know,” he said, “that I realize you are a Socialist, and that you teach the girls free love.” The lady rose up, and said: “I will not discuss that question with you, Judge Smith.” “All right,” said Judge Smith; “you don’t need to, but I’ve got the goods on you just the same.” The lady’s reply was: “I don’t know what you’ve got, and I decline to permit you to tell me.” But Judge Smith laughed, and went on to tell. “You’ve given the girls a poem by Walt Whitman called ‘The Mystic Trumpeter,’ and I took the trouble to read it, and I know what’s in it.”
Now, I will not complete the story. If I should quote you the lines to which the bar-room judge objected, apart from their context, you also might misunderstand. Get the poem, which you will find in “Leaves of Grass,” the section called “From Noon to Starry Night,” and read a piece of real eloquence. Meantime, I conclude this chapter with letters from two teachers. I have many to the same purport, but the book is long, and two will serve as types of all. A man teacher in California writes:
I have a humiliating request to make of you, Mr. Sinclair. Not having made provision for going out of the teaching business, I am afraid to have you mention the —— matter. The story will be unfailingly traced to me in what will probably be a brief time, considering the interest commanded by your “Goose-step,” and retribution will be sure to follow. I have so many sins to answer for before such unpromising judges within the next year that I have not the courage to add this delightful one to the rest just now. Will you sacrifice those two paragraphs?
The other letter is from a man teacher in the far Northwest:
You may think it strange that I am writing to you to repeat my request that you in no way use my name in connection with the data that I sent to you for “The Goslings,” nor word any passage in such a way that my name could be associated with any of the facts that it contains. I believe that I have sent newspaper clippings confirmatory of the various statements of fact; in any case, omit any seemingly significant item rather than connect my name with it. As you well know, if any person here should suspect me of having so much as passed on to you information of common knowledge which is contained in newspaper clippings, in a very short time it will reach the ears of those who would unhesitatingly put an end to my professional career. At my time of life, with a family, and a very meagre portion of this world’s goods, I cannot afford to allow my name to be associated with an enterprise of this kind, however much I may be in sympathy with it. With physical condition not at all vigorous and no trade or business experience, you can readily understand what publication of my name, or the faintest suspicion of me, would lead to. Although my wife is the only person here whom I have told of my action, she has become very apprehensive of late, lest something creep into your book which would fasten suspicion upon me; in fact, she is verging into a highly nervous state, unable to drive the thought out of her mind. May I ask, in order that her anxiety may be relieved, that you send me a letter assuring me that my name, or any words that may indicate me as a contributor of data, be kept from the pages of “The Goslings.”
CHAPTER LXXXI
THE SCHOOL SERFS
We have asked the question: is a teacher a citizen? I can name a few places in the United States in which a teacher may be a citizen, provided he or she is willing to give up promotion and honors. Under those conditions a teacher may be a citizen in Chicago, Milwaukee,[[M]] and New York, and I might think of a few other places if I searched my memory. On the other hand, if I wished to name places where a teacher is not a citizen, I could cover every state in the Union, and districts large enough to include several states.
[M]. It is amusing to note that after writing this sentence I learned from a Milwaukee teacher that the Teachers’ Association was at first denied admission to the “Recreational Council,” a league of civic organizations for school improvement, upon the explicitly stated ground that teachers are not citizens!