The lights and shades are the things which make the photograph appear natural; and so, in attempting to give a true, and thus natural, picture of my field of labor, I must give the lights and shades. But, in order that my picture may leave a favorable impression upon the mind, I will first give the shades, and then, the lights. I came to this place October 6th, 1877. On the first day only two pupils met me, and the increase, during this and the following months of the same year, was so very small that I began to be discouraged. I called several educational meetings, and, to my surprise, there was no response. I became still more discouraged. Failing to get as large a day-school as I desired, I offered my services at night, for one dollar per month each to those who could not come in the day. A few accepted the offer, and when these few became weary in well-doing and fainted by the way, I offered to teach at night, free of charge, any young man who was not able to pay his tuition. Only one accepted this offer. I then offered to teach vocal music, free of charge, to any who would meet me every Saturday. The first Saturday, none came; the second, eight came, far behind time; and this has been the greatest number that has ever accepted the offer. In my day-school the variety of books was large; the number of misused books was great. I had for several months to labor very hard to reduce chaos to form and order.
But why did I not have a full school all the while? The assigned reasons were various. Many did not know whether I was Baptist, Methodist, or something else; and so sectarianism kept some away; some parents said their children were just out of school, and their minds needed rest—these, and many excuses less plausible, were rendered for non-attendance. After my school was pretty well established and my scholars were somewhat classified, one other fact became apparent, and this was, and is, indeed, a sad fact, viz.: in the acquisition of knowledge, the teacher is considered one distinct party, the parent another, and the child another. Sad fact that, in the pleasant and most beneficial work, teacher, parent, and scholar are not one. When Christmas-day came, most of my patrons said: “It is Christmas, and there should be no school for one week;” and, indeed, I had but little. A short time ago a circus drifted down this way. “Of course,” said many of my patrons, “the children must go to the circus, and omit going to school until the circus is over with”; and they went.
But all shade, says the photographer, makes no picture; and so I will show the lights, and thus complete my picture. Many of my pupils, who were once, apparently, ignorant of what punctuality was, have learned to be punctual. Those who once thought it best to be disorderly, disrespectful, disobedient, careless, idle, and the like, now think it their duty to act differently; and so a much better state of things exists than formerly. Some months ago, when I would ask a reason for working an example in a certain way, the answer invariably was, “because”; and if I asked “because what?” the reply would be lengthened, thus: “because that gets the answer.” But now my pupils can not only work their examples, but tell why.
Strange to say, my third class (by name) is my best class in arithmetic, and the best scholar in this class is the smallest, and probably the youngest—not thirteen, perhaps. This same class is very good in geography, and, indeed, as a class, good in all their studies. My class in composition, for three months, have been endeavoring to understand the theory of composition, and now they are writing, or learning to write, essays according to the theory which they have learned. A few in the class compose very well already. In nearly all of my classes, strange to say, the dark pupils are the ones that stand at the head. In composition, good morals, geography, reading, grammar, writing, the leading scholars are dark—dark in color, but bright in intellect. I think it must be acknowledged that color has no influence over mind. I have several grown men, who have left their farms in the country that they may attend school and receive instruction, which they may impart to others. They are getting along fairly. When I asked my scholars what I should write concerning them, they said, with one accord, “The truth, and nothing but the truth;” and I think I have done just as they said. Clouds still hang over me, but they are not so dark as they were some months ago.
ALABAMA.
Dedication of Emerson Institute.
MR. B. F. KOONS, PRINCIPAL, MOBILE.
Since the burning of Emerson Institute in 1876, our school has passed through some very dark clouds of discouragement. All of last year, and the first four months of this, it occupied an old store, very poorly fitted for school purposes.
In December last, the A. M. A. purchased property known as Holly’s Garden, located near the centre of the city. There are nearly three and three-quarter acres of ground, covered by over one hundred beautiful live oak, cedar, and various other trees, and near the centre of the lot is located quite a comfortable and commodious frame dwelling. Into this we moved the school in January, and have since occupied three rooms, some sixteen by eighteen feet square. In these, we have accommodated about one hundred pupils.