Salem State University - Clipper Yearbook

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A True Story. The College Man was a tall, broad-shouldered individual of prepossessing appear- ance and the grave mien of a Harvard Senior. He had finished his course at college and was now attending Normal School, from which place he was sent to the N- School to observe. Now it happened that at noon of his first day there the principal, an old friend of his, came to him in sore need of assistance. 4' The first grade teacher is absent. IVill you take her place for the afternoon? he asked. The College Man could not refuse, so after consenting to assume the responsibilities of inst1'uctor of these five-year-olds for the brief period of two hours, he proceeded, with all the gravity possible, to the room occupied by the primary grade. As no plan was given him he began to recall his childhood days, and amidst the childish clatter and shufiie of many feet, he had faint remembrance of reading ff Mary had a little lamb and writing f' I see a cat, besides singing numerous cradle songs. Having decided upon his plan of action, and having sighted fifty-four anxious faces gazing at him from behind fifty-four tiny desks, the College Man decided to ff attack writing first. When the preliminary directions had been given he took a pen from his desk. 4' What is this, children? he asked in a most professional manner. ff A pen, piped fifty-four wee voices from fifty-four wee tots in front of him. ff Children, weire going to write the word 4 pen '. Watch me as I write it. U Pen was straightway arrayed in white chalk on the blackboard. 4' Now, children, you write this. And the College Man awaited the result. Presently one little hand in the corner was raisedg H I can't write that first letter I wailed the distressed individual. The College Man proceeded to show her the neces- sary strokes, and turning to help another who was struggling with the same difficulty, he beheld fifty-two hands wildly waving in the air, and heard a chorus of --4' I can't Write that letter! accompanied by, ff My pen's broke X f' Well, children, sighed the College Man, ff I guess we won't write 5 we'll read. Take out your readers. Straightway fifty-four sets of writing materials were plunged into fifty-four desks and the same number of readers took their places. ff Turn to page ten, we'll read the lesson on the f Bird's Nestf Read the first line, Mary. Mary arose and meekly began. The bird builds a nest of strawf' ff Stop that noise I commanded the College Man. HYou read the first line, Samuel 2 Samuel, with all the dignity of a Wilkins-for that was his family name-arose and proceeded to sound as Mary had done, only in a much higher key. ff Stop that noise l shouted the College Man, I told you to read ll' Fifty-four grave faces beheld their gentleman CQ teacher and great was their fear. Yea, verily! Mary was crying already. One brave little boy in the back row now arose. 'f Our other teacher always makes us read that wayf' he volunteered. 0 well, said the College Man, 4' That's all rightg I guess we won't read any more this afternoon, children, we'll sing instead. 11

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varying opinions of men who grow up in the same community, apparently under almost identical influences, attending the same schools, equally responsive to the dictates of reason and conscience. No two men can have precisely identical experiences. So no idea means precisely the same thing to two men, however they may be apparently pre- disposed to think or act alike. At some point or another, there has been a divergence of interpretation, and when an angular difference has once been established, the actual interval, according to linear measure, tends constantly to increase. The story of a good deed, or of a bad deed, is heard and judged, in one way or in another, according to our previous conception of the person to whom it is attributed. Especially is this judgment affected by the harmony or disagreement between that person and ourselves in matters of religion, politics, social relations, occupation, and the like. The difficul- ties which schools sometimes find in the study of certain periods of history, when their pupils are from families of varying shades of political or religious belief, furnish ex- cellent illustrations. The ff open mind, -and the open mind is not a merely empty mind,-which enables a man to seek only the truth, in whatsoever direction it may lead him, and to judge evidence according to its intrinsic value alone, is one of the rarest possessions of human beings. These matters, of course, go even further, and affecting men's opinions, determine their conduct also. The ditferenees are not merely academic, but they are expressed in our acts, such as our adherence to this or that religious com- munion, our votes, our discharge of social obligations, our alms-giving, our treatment of associates of all ranks and conditions. So those who in childhood played together with the utmost community of feeling and interest, sometimes find themselves in middle life far removed from each other in sympathy and in opinion,-perhaps even bitterly antagonistic. It is always ditlicult to resume an interrupted friendship. Again, the understanding of the process we have been discussing enables us to see the true value of so-called H forgotten knowledge. Because knowledge has apparently been forgotten,-that is, because it is not or perhaps cannot be recalled in the form in which it originally came to us, it does not follow that it has been lost, in any proper sense of that term. Our food does its work in allaying, for the time being, the craving of appetite, and then, subjected to the process of digestion, that which is useful is 1'e- tained for assimilation, and that which is waste is removed from the body. An analo- gous process goes on in the disposition of new ideas. Some of them are adjudged worthless by tho sifting activities of the mind to which they have presented themselves, and they leave practically no impress upon its nature or its life. The others are assim- ilated into its very being. They do not, perhaps, retain t.heil' identity, but they are worked into its fiber and bet-ome in very truth, a part of it. The body does not mere- ly receive, select und transform its foodg the food, in turn, becomes the body and peri- odically entirely renews it, although it remains the snlnc body. So the mind has its expo:-ieinvf-sg it knows, fe:-ls and wills. These experiences, in their turn, are not simply phenomena nf the mind, ---they are ultimately, in their sum, the inind, which, however, like the body, pro.'4erves its identity. W. P. Becklvith. Sober is a desi-ri :tire ad'oetire in the coin raratiro do free thus coin iared-- Josi- .la 1 tive nobr, colnpnrutive rwlwr, supvrlntiw,- uolwsl. io

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The truth was, he was in a hard place. It was only twenty minutes after two and he had already attacked and rejected two lessons, confused fifty-four little brains, and driven Mary Smith to tears. Mary finally subsided, however, much to his relief, and a song was chosen. The children started to sing on fifty-four different pitches and discord reigned supreme. Could it be avoided ? No I Because the College Man didn't remember the pitch or key of the ff Butterfly Song. So, in the middle of the first strain, he arose with a puckered brow and exclaimed, ff Don't sing any more, children, don't sing l His musical ear could endure no more. It was now half past two. How was he to keep these fifty-four noisy, restless chil- dren busy for an hour and a half more? His head reeled when he thought of it and his eyes blurred when he looked at the first grade reader. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to himg he would try blackboard drawing. It proved to be a novelty and its eiect was magical. After this he told them a fairy story he had once read, and so the after- noon dragged on. Never had he experienced such joy as thrilled him at the sound of the four o'c1ock bell. After putting on fifty-four pairs of overshoes and the same number of coats and caps he locked the school-room door, thankful that the ordeal was over. What an afternoon he had spent! Slowly the College Man walked toward home, more tired than after a footfball game, but thankful in his heart that he was not a first-grade teacher. 0. L. M2 '05. A Sonnet. '06 J is for Judgment Day when Junior marks come out, U is for H Unity which they'll soon learn about, N is for Normal work, quite strenuous, no doubtg I is for Ignorance, 'tis their first state of bliss, Us for the wonder when they find what real work is ! lt is for glaring Red which they so gaily flaunt, S is for Science-room which they so sadly haunt. '05 5 is for Serious, it is the Seniors' mien, E is for liloquenoe, their ignorance to screen, N is for Negligence, a common fault, I weeng I is for Interest in eflueation's themes, 0 is their Outlook, and oft it misty seemsg ll is the longed for Rest., a Senior's dream of bliss, S is the Sadness felt at leaving S. N. S. I2