Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-08-24
TROUBLES OF LITTLE FOLK
WHEN TEACHER GETS TO WORK
WOES OF CHILDREN BEGIN.
Claim Made That More Infants Are
Martyred in Schoolrooms Than
in Cotton Mills.

Mrs. T.. H. Harris, in the Independent.
If we could be more like the little chill
dren instead of training them to be like
US. We would all come nearer the king
dom of heaven than We do. After while
one of us will remember that his millen-
MUM time was when he was child and
took his days straight from the Maker OF
days, when the important thing was
not to win and to hold, but 1t was the
dawn-song of a bird, the little whispers
of the wind. the definite but unspeakable
communications he had with tiny flowers,
the far and wide loneliness of every field.
And so we shall begin to study the
mind of the child in order to discover its
sources of happiness and to preserve them
just as now we are engaged in destroying
them. For it is the nature of child to
believe, not to learn and .nen believe.
This is why they are happier than
grown people. They can hope SO much
more. They have divine anticipation or
life which is legitimate, but which we
outrage. because, IL our system of edu-
cation does not inveigh against such an
ticipation, 1t destroys too much Of the
capacity for faith. And what we need
for life is more imagination and fewer
penny facts. And when we come TO study
children, not as the Grass, modern psy-
biologists study them, in order to take a
mean advantage and a sort of mathemati-
cal possession of their winged faculties.
but wonderingly, as we study the Word
and the heavens, we snail nave entered
upon the last great period in history, and
the homecoming of man. What 1t Will
be like. no one can tell, for while the law
Is plain that we must be as little chill
dren, we do not know enough about them
yet to initiate them. Their minds and
the great reasons for their faiths are hid
den from us. We have no means by
which their confidence may be translated
and betrayed. The tenderest mother
never wins 1t. No child loves enough to
avow it. and not one of us remembers
thought and believed when we were chill
dren and the world was still our dream
We only recall the awakening, the break
ing of some ineffable spell.
The Lessons Begin.
Usually it was when our elders began
to exercise their misguided consciences in
our behalf that the pages of our happy
minds were first tear-stained. thumb
marked and pencil-scratched with infor-
nation that was foreign to our Maytime
spirits In short we became students,
lined birds upon the ugly tree of knowl-
edge. To be sure, we had some informa
ton already. things that no child ever
tells. And in the way of experimental
knowledge we knew. for example. that
all humble bees were old and III natured.
that grasshoppers were homely and prob
ably insane. We were personally and in
diligently acquainted with sundry blue
bird families. We knew where the first
wood violets were to be found, and at
pinch we could have told who made u.s.
But our world the world of the child. be-
gan 10 fade upon that day when We were
obliged to learn the surnames of all the
letters in the alphabet. Every one de-
clared that there was the greatest pos
sible difference between a b and d. A
b was no less a b. no matter upon which
side it carried its tail aud hump. And
what a stretching OF nerves, it was to
proclaim at last i'm a high treble voice
that 'The cat has the rat!" This was
called reading and we sat down with a
brow burning as it had been stung by a
laurel wreath. How many men and