incident to illustrate his argument. His mental powers must be aroused, quickened, disciplined, and strengthened for future use; and for those ends, the oral recitation presents the best, if not the only efficient means.

The written recitation, in such favor with many teachers, is in no true sense a recitation. It is simply an examination, useful, nay, in a limited way indispensable, but not a recitation. The real uses of a recitation have no play in the written exercise. The power, the personal magnetism of the teacher, and the fruitful suggestion, find no place here. She sits idle and useless. The pupil might familiarize himself with the mechanical parts of a written performance, might improve his penmanship, his spelling and accuracy of expression, but these are the very points that the written exercise commonly ignores. "Shall a pupil in geography receive a deduction from his credits merely because his spelling is abominable?" "Spelling is not geography." "Because he can not paragraph correctly, is his knowledge of history diminished?" His punctuation and his capitals are problematical, but what has that to do with his knowledge of numbers, of personal character, of climate and productions?

The recitation should be oral, instinct with life, and full of interest, with an occasional examination, written briefly, carefully and correctly, with all the elements of a written exercise carefully noted and corrected.

So important a part does the recitation, under the skilful teacher play in the school economy, that in comparison, as it seems to me, the written examination is nowhere; and I am coming more and more to the opinion that a pupil who has acquitted himself with credit in the daily recitations should pass on to the next grade unquestioned, despite any failure in the stated written examination of his class; that a class which has shown itself qualified for the work of the grade should, on its completion, be past to the next grade without the test examination.

The written examination, without any intent or fault of the examiner, may be and often is outside the qualifications of the pupil. The teacher may have erred in her instructions,

but should the pupil suffer? The principal should be so well acquainted with the quality of the instruction, and the application of the class, that it should not be possible for it to come to the end of its grade work without some fitness for advancement. Rarely, I think, should a pupil be put down or kept back by a formal examination, when the daily recitations have been satisfactory. The examination is valuable chiefly in relieving the teacher from the charge of partiality, or prejudice. I have often wished that pupils, that classes, might be promoted, not on the results of any formal examination, but on the promise of their daily work for future success. No one, in preparing a set of questions, can say much of their worth in determining the scholarship, the power, of the pupil. He may strike points, important indeed, but which had been partially neglected by the teacher in her zeal in other directions, and the pupils will fail while exhibiting a power of thought, a skill in analysis of character, a discrimination and judgment, of more worth than an accurate statement of the facts involved. I recall an instance in which the pupil showed an utter ignorance of the subject required, but at the same time, in admitting the disqualification, gave such an evidence of elegant diction, of clear, distinct thought, so much originality, that my better judgment would not permit me to pass any other than a meritorious judgment upon her ability.

I have not dwelt much upon the methods, the details of the recitation; these must depend largely upon the individual teacher and the subject. There is, I think, no best method for all teachers, in presenting any subject. There are certain underlying principles that should always direct and control, certain things to be forever avoided.

Nor should the same method be followed at all times; now should come the topical recitation, in which the pupil can present his views in some fulness and elegance of language; now the quick, short question and answer; the pupil now feeling his way along thoughtfully and carefully, and now prompt with the ready rejoinder; now with the crayon in hand illustrating his descriptions, and again essaying the

abstract argument in concise, discriminating terms; at one time promptly and accurately performing a prepared example, and again applying the principles to a problem with different but similar conditions; taking our pupils out of the ruts of routine, and leading them into ways of thought and intelligence; not machines, but coming men and women. But there should always be, in all these exercises, a tendency, a nearer approach to a distinct enunciation, correct language, pleasing tones, and plain reason. Nor is ease and grace of manner to be forgotten, as shown in rising and sitting, in walking across the room, in standing, holding the book, and handling the pointer. Little things, all, and not to be made the means of annoying the pupil, but to be encouraged, cultivated, cherished; not to be brought into too great prominence, or regarded as the absolute need of the statesman or the successful workman, but as attractive in the school as in the home, and having a larger influence upon the conduct, the character, than is often imagined, and almost inseparable from those kindly relations between teacher and pupil, without which no school can attain to its true position as an educating, civilizing institution.

When our tables of statistics show us 28,000 in the first grade, 16,000 in the second, 9,000 in the fourth, it would seem that we can hardly begin the good work too soon or too lovingly.

Entering the lowest room, while in those sweet, childish tones come up the simple words, "Where do all the babies go?" I often find myself involuntarily coupling with it the daisy line, "Largely underneath the snow." Where are the remainder of the 28,000 who came to us last September?

If our pupils could be, from six to fourteen years of age, under the kindly care and have their recitations under the wise guidance and inspiring breath of earnest, sympathetic teachers, such as may be found in our own schools, whose names answer promptly to my thought, some of whose faces have long been familiar in our schools, and some who can count their length of service only in months, this love of knowing, of learning, would, it seems to me, be kept alive;

the eye would kindle at the thought of the school teacher; the hand, the heart, the mind and soul would all grow quicker, stronger, tenderer; more sensitive to good influence and suggestions, more skilful to do, more hopeful to dare, and stronger to resist evil; truer to the right.

And where, with her sixty pupils, restless with young life, glowing with childish ardor, to do, to try, to know; coming from homes of penury, or of plenty, but all alike hungering for that which shall respond to their wants-where can there be a field of more absorbing interest, of brighter promise, and to the truly chosen, of richer reward? And where should there be awakened a deeper sense of duty and responsibility, brightened by a tinge of higher hope and fonder expectation, than in the recitation room of the Public Graded School?

DISCUSSIONS

MUSIC VIA MODERN LANGUAGES

A STUDY IN CORRELATION

Correlation is the watchword in modern education. We correlate history with literature and art, philosophy with history, modern thought with English, and even cookery with history. Why not correlate music with the teaching of modern languages? Theoretically, this may appear simple, but actually the objection is often justly raised that a large school system affords little room for the exercise of the degree of initiative necessary to work out new methods. However, given superiors who will allow one sufficient latitude, and given a curriculum as varied as that of the Washington Irving High School, the opportunities for correlation are almost endless. And fortunately so; for what could be less in accord with the modern conception of education-fitting for lifethan to attempt to teach anything, especially a modern language, without its proper setting, or to use a German term, without the use of Realien? What could be more valuable than a study of music in connection with Italian, the language of the country which gave birth to the opera and the oratorio, where the most marvelous singers of the past were trained? What would make a deeper impression than to make the study of the French language a medium thru which to trace the French genius for perfection of form and style in its music as well as in its literature and art? Students of music know that Paris was the battleground on which Glück won operatic reforms which antedate those of Wagner by about a hundred years, and that Frenchmen of more recent years have filled their music with a wealth of orchestral color hitherto unknown. What would help to enliven the dreary wanderings thru the mazes of German grammar more than a study of the musical giants which that