Another parental fault is, the interference both as to matter and manner in which children are to be taught; and this is sure to be committed in proportion to the self-conceited competency, but real inability of the advising, or rather commanding party. Let a single exemplification suffice, out of very many others I could give of this most ridiculous, but very pernicious fault. I select it because it is one of those occurrences in the “olden time,” the relation of which can hurt the feeling of none, but may afford a useful lesson to many. My informant told me, that many years ago he knew a lady who could barely read and write, to carry a little girl whose acquirements extended not much farther than her own, to a school conducted by a gentleman well qualified for his profession. She announced herself, as having brought to him a pupil, who was immediately to be taught some half dozen sciences, the names of which she had somewhere picked up, but could scarcely pronounce; and that “he must make haste to do it, as the little miss had not much more than a year, if that, to go to school.” I was not told whether or not the teacher laughed in her face, but if he refrained he must have had much more than common control over his risible muscles. “It was enough,” (as the hero of Cherubina says,) “to make a tiger titter.” This most compendious way of manufacturing learned young masters and young misses, when viewed in its effects upon the great interests of our community—upon the happiness of families, as well as of the nation at large, is enough to sicken the heart of any person capable, even in a moderate degree, of serious reflection. Numerous instances have I known, in my limited sphere of observation, especially in female schools, where, just as the pupils had acquired a taste for reading, and were beginning to make good progress in their studies, they were hurried away, and plunged headlong into the vortex of gay, pleasure-seeking company, there to lose—far more rapidly than it was gained—all desire, all anxiety for intellectual culture. Books, together with all the useful lessons they are calculated to impart; the whole long-labored scheme of moral instruction, from which so much good had been anticipated; the anxious preparation for a life of active beneficence, are all forgotten or neglected, for constantly recurring schemes of frivolous gaiety, and utter idleness in regard to all really useful pursuits. The only subject of intense interest which seems to occupy these fanatic devotees of worldly pleasure, is marriage; and provided they can succeed in procuring a wealthy husband for their daughters, all other matters are deemed of very subordinate importance. After the teachers of these unfortunate girls may have been laboring for years to convince them that the value of eternal things is immeasurably greater than that of any merely temporal things whatever, they are to be “finished off,” (as it is called) in the school of the world, where all these calculations are utterly reversed, and present objects alone are made to occupy all their thoughts and time.
Another fault of parents, and I may add guardians too, is to be led away by mere reports in regard to the character of schools and their teachers, without always inquiring for themselves, as they should do where possible, minutely into both. Thus, it often happens that, governed entirely by rumor not to be traced to any authentic source, all will be anxiously hurrying to secure places for their children in schools said to be already full to overflowing, so that no more can possibly get in; while schools of equal merit are carefully avoided, because the same common untraceable rumor proclaims that they are losing all their scholars; which, if not true at the time, soon probably becomes so, from the capricious love of change, and the desire to get their children's brains swept by the new broom, or from the common habit of ascribing all removals of pupils from any schools whatever, to incompetency or misconduct in the teachers. These ebb and flood tides of popularity often happen to the same schools, without any change whatever in the schools themselves, except increased fitness in the teachers, from additional experience. A signal instance of this fell under my observation, many years ago, in the case of a long established, highly respectable, but no longer existing city school. This institution, after maintaining very deservedly a high character for many years, was literally stripped almost entirely naked of pupils, by some utter strangers, who, although possibly as meritorious, were certainly not known to be so, by a single individual of the whole number that immediately sent scholars to them. It is true, that the old school, after the public imagination had time to sober a little, somewhat recovered from the shock, although never sufficiently to regain its former standing. What is called “patronage,” had fled from its walls, which were soon entirely deserted, and answered little other purpose than to present another striking monument of public caprice, fickleness, and folly. This case is cited from no invidious motive whatever—both schools having long ceased to exist; but it furnishes a most striking proof of the existence, as well as of the pernicious effects of the last parental fault noticed. As a necessary consequence of this fault, comes the frequent changes made from school to school, often without any assignable cause, but the mere love of novelty; or some secret, but unfounded dissatisfaction imbibed from the ex parte misrepresentation of the children, most carefully concealed from the teachers themselves. If the matter ended here, it might not do more harm than occasion the loss of the particular pupils to the offending teachers; but the fancied injury, although never communicated to the person chiefly interested in removing the unfounded imputation, is, in general, the more diligently made known to others. With all these, the characters of the teachers are deeply injured, if not entirely ruined, without the possibility of a vindication, from utter ignorance of its being any where necessary. Persons who are thus regardless of what they say of schools and their conductors, and who are so careless as to the sources from which they seek a knowledge of their characters, are liable to be greatly deceived, even when making inquiries, in a manner that appears to them most likely to obtain correct information. Thus, in the opinion of these precipitate and reckless judges, it is at once concluded, that if an individual of their acquaintance has merely been at any particular school, whether in casually passing or specially to see it, this person must necessarily be well qualified to tell, describe, and explain every thing about it; and therefore, that the sentence of approval or condemnation produced by this off-hand judge, must be decisive, although it may go no farther than a simple “ipse dixit”—“he or she said it.” Details are rarely, if ever asked by such inquirers, (for I have often witnessed their method of proceeding) but the mere opinion of the informant, for or against the school, is deemed all sufficient; the brief assertion, “I've no notion of it,” or “I like it mightily,” settles the question. It seems never to be even suspected, that to form a just and impartial judgment in regard to the merits or demerits of any school, requires much more time, learning, knowledge of the principles and management of schools in general, acquaintance with the various modes of instructing youth, but, above all, more power of discrimination than most persons possess. Hence, the characters both of schools and teachers, are generally at the mercy of individuals extremely incompetent to determine what they really are.
Another common fault with many parents and guardians, has always reminded me of the old miser who inquired of his merchant for a pair of shoes, that must be at once “very neat, and strong, and fine, and cheap.” They confound together cheapness and lowness of price, although no two things generally differ more widely; and hence they always endeavor to purchase their schools as they do their merchandise. It is certainly true that a high price does not necessarily make either schools or merchandise of good quality; but it is equally true, that a low price can never have any such effect. The principle of equivalents must be alike consulted in both cases, or no fair, equitable bargain can be made, either for bodily or mental apparel. If much is required, much must be given, provided both parties are free to give and take; and those who act upon different principles—be they parents, guardians, or teachers, deserve to be, and generally are, utterly disappointed.
There is another fault which I will here mention—not on account of any connexion with that just noticed, but because the recollection of it has just presented itself. It is of most fearful import, for I verily believe it to be the foundation of most of the infidelity which prevails among the youth of our country. I mean, the neglect of parents to require their children to seek religious instruction by constant attendance at places of religious worship—places where they themselves, if professors of religion, deem it their sacred duty to attend. They require—nay, insist upon these children seeking classical, scientific, and literary knowledge by attending schools and colleges; how then can they possibly justify, or even excuse their attendance at church, not being at least equally insisted upon. They themselves, unless hypocrites, must deem religious knowledge far more important than all other kinds united. To leave their children then, at full liberty to seek or not to seek it, and to coerce them in seeking these other kinds, is to act, not only inconsistently and foolishly, but wickedly.
One of the greatest and most pernicious faults of all, I have reserved for the last to be noticed. It is the utter indifference which, not only parents and guardians but all other persons except the instructors themselves, appear to feel for the reputation of schools and their particular conductors, although this reputation is really a matter of the deepest interest to the whole community. Of these institutions and their managers, it seems in an especial manner, and most emphatically true, that “what is every body's business is no body's business.” Slander and its effects may certainly be called every body's business, since all are exposed to it; yet no individual appears to think it his own, or likely to be so, until it touches his own dear self, although one of the best modes of protecting himself from it, most obviously is—to manifest, on all occasions, a readiness to protect others. But while men remain so prone to believe ill, rather than good, of their fellow creatures, and are too regardless of any reputations but their own, it is hardly to be expected, that so long as they themselves are safe, much care will be felt whether the persons assailed, are openly or secretly attacked, or whether they have opportunities to defend themselves or not. Hence, there are no courts in the world that exercise a more despotic, reckless sway, than what may justly be called courts of defamation; the only qualifications for which are, a talent and love for malignant gossipping. Even the tribunals of the inquisition make a pretence at justice, by calling the accused before them; but the self-constituted inquisitors of reputation, who often, in the course of their various sessions, sit upon schools and their conductors, disdain to use even the mockery of a trial. With them, to try, to condemn, and to execute the character, while the body is absent, constitute but one and the same act; and like so many grand sultans, whose power is supreme, whose word is law, and whose arguments are the scimitars and bow-strings of death, they are alike uncontrolled and uncontrollable by any considerations even approaching towards truth and justice. If defamation never meets with any thing to check it but the unheeded, unavailing complaints of the immediate sufferers from its diabolical spirit, it will continue greatly to impair, if it does not utterly destroy one of the most copious sources of human happiness—I mean, the heart-cheering confidence, that all will acquire fair reputations by always acting in a manner to deserve them, and that nothing can bereave them of this inestimable blessing, but actual misconduct. It is true, that our laws hold out something like a remedy for slander by known individuals. But what is this remedy? While house-breaking and house-burning have often been made punishable by death—character-breaking and burning have met with no other legal corrective than pecuniary fines, and these too, dependent on enactments hard to be applied to any particular case, and upon the capricious, ill-regulated, not to say, prejudiced, judgments of others. To mend the matter, public opinion generally attaches no small disgrace to the seeking this species of redress; as if to sue for damages to character, implied, on the part of woman, some strong probability of guilt, and on the part of man, a great presumption both of guilt and cowardice. Against the effect of inimical motives, calumnious opinions, and their underhand circulation, no law affords any protection whatever. These matters are entirely beyond the reach of all legislation, and unless they can be cured by moral instruction, moral discipline, and such a public sentiment as will keep alive in every bosom a strong sense of our obligations always to judge charitably and justly of each other, the members of our society, one and all, must still live exposed to this deep and deadly curse of secret defamation. Such is the baneful nature of this deplorable evil, that to fear or despise will only serve to aggravate it—while to live above it, although very comfortable to our consciences, can never entirely prevent the injuries it often has the power of inflicting upon even the best of mankind. The disastrous effects of it upon education, so far as this depends upon scholastic establishments, are incalculable; for although some particular schools might rise or fall a sightless distance above the hopes of their most sanguine friends—below the wishes of their bitterest enemies—without materially affecting the general cause of instruction; yet that cause cannot possibly flourish—cannot even approach its maximum of general good, without far greater protection from public sentiment. It must protect, and with parental solicitude too, the reputation both of teachers and schools, or none whatever, even the best, can be secure of a twelve months' existence. None can possibly last, unless all who have any power of giving the tone and character of public opinion, will unite in marking with the severest reprobation the kind of spirit which so frequently gives birth and circulation to the numerous, unfounded calumnies we so often hear against the very best of them; calumnies too, to the greedy swallowing of which, it forms no objection with many, that they have no authors who have hardihood enough to avow them. But the same violent spirit which ruins some schools by calumny, often exerts itself with so little judgment as to destroy others by intended kindness. Thus, the same tongues which will persecute particular schools in secret—“even unto death,” will praise and puff others so immeasurably, as to excite against them that never dying envy and animosity, which is always roused to action by high seasoned commendation of others. These headlong, unreflecting puffers, are either utterly ignorant, or entirely forget that the world is still full of people who are brothers and sisters, at least in feeling, to that Athenian who voted to banish Aristides, (whom he acknowledged he did not know,) solely, as he declared—“because he was weary and sick at heart, on hearing him every where called the Just.”
The foregoing faults, as far as I can recollect, are the chief and most pernicious of those which attach particularly to parents and guardians. But there are many others to which they are parties, either as principals or accessaries with that great and complicated mass of human beings, which, when considered in the aggregate, constitute what is called—“the public.” These often form themselves into large subdivisions, arrayed against each other with all the bitter animosity of partizan hostility, as the assailants and defenders of particular schools; without appearing, for a moment to reflect, that complete success to either party must sweep from the face of the earth one half of the existing schools, although it is manifest to all who will look soberly at our present condition, that the supply of good schools, still falls very far short of the demand. But if this exterminating war between the partizans and enemies of schools in general is never to cease, would it not be far better for the world, if all the schools in it, with their friends and enemies, were crushed together in one promiscuous mass—that some new, and, if possible, better road might be opened to science, literature and religion?
In education there should be, in reality, but one party—(if I may be allowed to say so) that of knowledge and virtue; but one object, and that object human happiness. Until this principle can be universally established and acted upon—until the class of instructers shall not only be held in higher estimation, but be more secure of being protected by public sentiment, from unmerited obloquy and secret detraction, thousands of those who are most capable of fulfilling all the momentous duties of teachers, will shrink entirely from so thankless, so discouraging an occupation. It is true, that even under present circumstances, we have the appearance of much good resulting from the various attempts to educate the rising generation; but no very extensive advantage—no permanent benefit, at all commensurate to the wants and wishes of our thirteen millions of people, can possibly result from them while things remain exactly as they are. This is not the worst consequence of such a state of public sentiment—for, not only will the accessions of highly qualified persons to the class of instructers be much fewer, but those already belonging to it, will either abandon it, or, perceiving that the privilege of teaching is usually let to the lowest bidder, and that their profession is generally treated as an inferior one, having few claims to generous sympathy, and none to that respect and esteem which would bear them harmless, at all times, against all suspicions of meanness and servility, will insensibly contract the spiritless, submissive feelings which they find are commonly supposed to belong to their situation. Seeing also that a spirit of independence—a nice, high-minded sense of honor, are deemed by many, sentiments of much too exalted a grade for those who follow such a calling, their principles are always in danger of sinking to the level of such a standard, however arbitrary and unreasonable may have been its establishment. Woe to the unlucky wight of a schoolmaster or schoolmistress who happens to be gifted with so rebellious a heart, as to betray any feeling, even approaching to indignant resentment, for such treatment! Silence is their true policy, for it will be considered his or her humble duty; and silence must be kept, cost what it may, unless they are prepared to encounter the worst consequences of derision, scorn, or deprivation of what is called patronage.
It is readily admitted, that persons of this profession are more highly estimated than they were forty or fifty years ago; for I distinctly recollect the time when all I have said of the degrading treatment of teachers generally, both by parents and others, was literally true; when to the question, “who is such a one?” the common reply was, “oh, nothing but a schoolmaster or schoolmistress;” and when they were all commonly viewed precisely as we might imagine from such an answer. But although they have, of late years, been elevated a spoke or two higher up the ladder of respectability, still they are not admitted to a level with several other classes, whose real claims to superiority have no better foundation than their own silly, groundless pride.
The following extract from the London Examiner affords a striking proof that what I have affirmed of the public sentiment relative to the class of teachers in the United States, is true to a still more pernicious extent in Great Britain.
The author remarks, “A trust is generally accounted honorable in proportion to its importance, and the order of the qualities or acquirements requisite to the discharge of it. There is, however, one striking exception to this rule in the instance of the instructers of youth, who, specially appointed to communicate the knowledge and accomplishments which may command respect in the persons of their pupils, are, in their own, denied every thing beyond the decencies of a reluctantly accorded civility, and often are refused even those barren observances. The treatment which tutors, governesses, ushers, and the various classes of preceptors, receive in this boasted land of liberality, is a disgrace to the feelings, as well as to the understanding of society. Every parent acknowledges that the domestic object of the first importance is the education of his children. In obtaining the services of an individual for this purpose, he takes care to be assured” (not always so with us) “that his morals are good and his acquirements beyond the common average—in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, we may add, beyond those which he himself possesses, and on which he sufficiently prides himself. When he has procured such a man as he believes this to be, he treats him with perhaps as much courtesy as his cork-drawer, and shows him less favor than his groom. The mistress of the family pursues the same course with the governess which the master adopts towards the tutor. The governess is acknowledged competent to form the minds and manners of the young ladies—to make, indeed, the future women: but of how much more consequence in the household is she who shapes the mistresses caps, and gives the set to her head-dress—the lady's maid! The unhappy teachers in almost every family are only placed just so much above the servants as to provoke in them the desire to pull them down—an inclination in the vulgar menials which is commonly encouraged by the congenial vulgar and jealous pride of the heads of the house, impatient of the intellectual equality or superiority which they have brought within their sphere. The remark, however, does not apply to the narrow-minded only. All of us regard too lightly those who make a profit of communicating what all of us prize, and what we know entitles us to respect when we possess it. Some carry their neglect or contempt farther than others, but all are, in a greater or less degree, affected by the vicious standard of consideration common in the country. The instructers of youth serve for low wages; that is a sufficient cause for their being slighted, where money puts its value upon every thing and being. The butler and groom, indeed, serve for less than the tutor; but, beside the lowness of price, there is another peculiar ingredient in the condition of the last, which is, the accompaniment with it of a claim to respect on the score of a requital. It is this very claim, so ill-substantiated in hard cash, the secret force of which wounds the self-love of purse-proud nothingness, which sinks the poor tutor in regard below the man of corks or currycombs. We will not deny, too, that there are families in which the care of wine and the training of horses are really accounted, although not confessed, of superior importance to the care and training of youth. These are extreme cases, however, which we would not put. The common one is that of desiring and supposing every thing respectable in the preceptor, and denying him respect—of procuring an individual to instil virtue and knowledge into the minds of youth, and showing them, at the same time, the practical and immediate example of virtue and knowledge neglected or despised in his person. How can a boy (and boys are shrewd enough) believe that the acquirements, the importance of which is dinned in his ears, are of any value as a means of commanding the respect of the world, when he witnesses the treatment, the abject social lot of the very man, who, as best stored with them, has been chosen his instructer? Will he not naturally ask, how can these things obtain honor for me which do not command even courtesy for him who is able to communicate them to me?”