The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1902-12-30
RANDOM THOUGHTS.


A new born spirit destined there to stay,
TIL waited once again upon its way
To cold and darkness. or to fairer skies,
A little while in innocence lies
In regions rightly ruled by elf and fay,
Where passing clouds but shade the light Of
And night brings only sleep to weary eyes.
A happy land with no beyond unknown,
Close -cinctured with kind walls by mortals
made,
Where hang but simple gauds OF quaint device.
Here dwells the child contented, yet alone,
And i'll advised is he who dares invade
The kingdom called The Children's Paradise.
Not many human beings would
willingly destroy the paradise of
children-that little world which
a child makes for itself, and in
which it is so innocently happy;
but the ignorance which makes
it, is also responsible for its de-
struction.
Most of US were children once
upon a time-we understood as a
child, we thought as a child; but,
when we became men and put
away childish things, we forgot
childhood so completely that ever
since we have been surprised
and grieved because old heads
refuse to grow on young should
ers.
How many parents and teach
ers forget that play is not only
an instinct of childhood, but is
actually essential to its natural
and highest development. Small
wonder the Jesuits succeeded
where the Jansenists failed, and
that Rousseau and Pestalozzi
made more impression with their
visionary or simple devices than
the ready rod of a Busby.
Everywhere Nature seeks to
teach us wisdom. The young of
all animals gambol and play the
live long day. What a waste
of time," says the moralist. The
philosopher looks more closely,
and finds that these apparently
objectless sports from the ideal
curriculum of perfect school of
preparation for after life, of
which the Principal is the fond
mother. The pupils are perfect
| ly happy. Their school is their
playground. Can this be said of
any human teaching machine :?
Do you remember, reader, your
old schoolroom, the hard seats,
the long tasks, the irritable ped
agogue, the punishments, the
nagging, the deadening discip-
line ? Do you remember that
lovely autumn afternoon when
the woods were stored with treas
ure, and the sunlight wandered
across the stuffy schoolroom, and
the country sounds stole in
through the open door, and your
very soul revolted against your
long confinement =? Do you re-
member how, when you thought
freedom was yours, the strident
voice from the platform bade you
stay to atone for some fault that
you knew not to be a fault till
your autocrat told you SO? II
we treated our young dogs and
horses as some of US were treat
ed, we should expect them to die.
Sometimes our children die-die
because they are denied their
right to play; die mental and
moral death which is far worse
than mere physical dissolution.
Children must not only play;
but they must be taught to play.
There is whole character train
ling in a well regulated game.
Self-denial, courage, unselfish'
ness and that splendid health
which alone permits perfect men
tai and moral balance, are all
learned on the wisely-managed
playground. And in school,
where the mental training nee.
essary for a complete education
must be carried on, still children
must play. Information may be
driven into the brain with a rod
but culture comes only through
the open window of the mind. A
mind antagonized through harsh
ness, injustice or an unattractive
routine is incapable of true de.
velopment. Therefore work
should be play. In other words
the schoolmaster must take ad
vantage of a child's instincts
and, as it were. let the chilo
teach itself. The inquisitivenesS
of the young is part of the play
instinct. The skilful pedagogue
gives it free scope, and informa.
ton is impaired. The child loves
to do things. The clever teacher
makes his self-sought tasks
harder and harder to keep pace
with this craving, and mental
capacity grows. Thus even work
is play and the schoolmaster is
the boys best friend instead o1
!; his natural enemy.