The bright children now are getting more attention and do not have the drag of the very slow. They are easier to manage because they are kept busy. The slow children are getting more for their time, for they cannot now depend upon the bright children to do all the work and reciting. They do not feel out of place and they work with more zest. These slow children when placed with the brighter ones usually slump, will not take part in the class activities, get dissatisfied, and frequently become chronic troublemakers. Any teacher who ever tries teaching them alone will never go back to the old way. It does not pay to mix slow and bright, backward and progressive children, for it retards both. It is a fallacy to think that children learn from brighter ones to any great degree.

Lastly, there are the special classes. So many mistakes have been made in organizing classes by mental tests that we were very cautious. Our promotions were based upon teachers' estimates primarily, combined with the factors of I. Q., mental age, health, and social development. We tried to make no special promotion unless we were convinced it was the thing to do. Let me cite one case. K. tested 12 years, 9 months, mental age, while the median of his class was 11 years, 9 months, and the norm for his grade about a year still lower. He was barely passing in his work, was in mischief frequently, but was strong physically and all right in social ways. We concluded that he did not have

enough to do, that he had too easy a time to pass, and was developing a habit of being lazy. Consequently we promoted his, placing him in a small group of about fifteen of the brightest children in his halfyear class. The result has been excellent, for now he has to work hard to pass and make a showing with the group where he is, and he has almost entirely quit being mischievous. An entirely different case is that of E., who ranked far ahead of her class in both I. Q. and mental age. As she is strong physically and doing superior work we promoted her to the second class above this, with the result that she is easily carrying her work well. Altogether we made twenty or more double promotions, all of whom are doing well.

As a whole the experiment has been excellent for the whole school. Never has the faculty been so interested and enthusiastic and never has the school been so well organized or so easily handled. Both the bright children and the slow ones are getting more attention and better teaching with no extra burden on the teachers. Fully $60.00 worth of books by Terman, Monroe, Dickson, and others have been bought by the faculty and others and placed in our library. Another year will still further improve the situation. To sum it up in a sentence, I may say that the careful use of mental tests means better organization for the school, better teaching of the pupils, and no additional burdens on the teachers.

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contact with his whole school and the community. He is given the opportunity of speaking to the group about general problems of school interest as a whole. In this regard it is economical of time, for he can say the same thing to all and emphasize any point needing the co-operation of all. The personal contact, the cooperation and vitalizing influence that he engenders move the whole school in any direction he wishes to guide it. He can emphasize and explain his policies to all. Fourth. The value to the community is the demonstration, in a simple manner, of the work of the school and the necessity for the co-operation of all. The importance of the teacher is clearly shown, and parents, pupils, teacher, and principal are all brought to a common ground. Thus are created a wholesome respect and regard for the policies of the school not possible in any other manner. The people feel that they are a part of the group, and that it is after all our problem-the problem of all of us-and that the community can assist. That support, pride and interest in the school, which is so necessary in a well-managed and well organized school is brought about.

In conclusion it might be well to cite how our assemblies are organized. There are three general types of assemblies:

1. Assemblies by grades.

2. Assemblies given by every teacher in
the school at definite times.
3. The once-in-a-while assembly, or
assembly when occasion demands or
inclination prompts.

The assembly by grades and the oncein-a-while assembly have certain objectionable features, chief of which are

shifting of responsibility from teacher to teacher, and an unbalanced ration. The willing teacher carries most of the work, there are petty arguments, and a lack of democracy because only a few pupils can appear. The once-in-a-while assembly is a nuisance, because a spasmodic appearance entails the lose of too much valuable time and savors of an unbalanced organization and management. These assemblies are apt to be unwieldy, and have a tendency to over-emphasize a certain portion of the school. Harsh comparisons are apt to be made, and undue credit taken.

Assemblies led by each room in turn possess definite advantages in that they tend to concrete, real democracy and do away with the shifting of responsibility. Every room and teacher receives the same amount of time, and all in the room can be active participants, so that all have an equal opportunity, definite responsibility and definite authority.

The plan followed at the Pope School is briefly this: Assemblies are held every two weeks. two weeks. Each teacher provides a fifteen-minute program. The schedule of assemblies, with dates of each one, is given to the teachers at the beginning of the year, thus providing ample time to get ready. The school holidays, such as Columbus Day, Lincoln's and Washington's Birthdays, etc., are celebrated on the nearest assembly day, and on those days. thirty minutes is given to the room program. Assembly songs are sung, and each teacher provides the music and leadership necessary. Our regular bi-monthly movie follows the room program.

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FTER teaching for nearly fifty years in the public schools of Xenia, Ohio, Miss Jean B. Elwell last year voluntarily resigned.* A vivacious, girlish little woman who always gives the impression of having sipped from the fountain of eternal youth, she was at the height of her teaching success and enthusiasm when she handed in her resignation.

After it was announced that Miss Elwell had retired, the people of Xenia did an astonishing and revolutionary thing. They determined to make a gesture of appreciation and gratitude for her years of exceptional service and to honor her not fifty or a hundred years hence-but right now. A new high school building, of semi-monumental type, costing a third of a million dollars, was being built. The building contains what is now known as the Jean B. Elwell Auditorium. Every seat in the auditorium, as well as the hand- . some drop curtain, bears her initials, and on May 25 of this year, when the new building was dedicated, she was present to hear speeches in which she was formally and officially recognized as having wielded an influence for good without parallel in the community.

Miss Elwell began as a girl to teach in the grammar grades, later instructor in physical culture, and during the last twenty-five years taught public speaking, English literature, and rhetoric in the high school. Once a year the graduating class under her direction presented a play, and it was never the ordinary little foolish entertainment written for school use, but perhaps Barrie's "Admiral Crichton" or something by Augustus Thomas. These were so well done as to excite much more than local interest.

He's going to need a past, too. What she taught in class, however, was the least of the achievements of Miss Elwell. Of the thousands of young folk who came under her influence, I doubt if one ever

failed to find that there is more beauty in the world, more joy to be derived from knowledge, than he had ever suspected. Moreover, I doubt if any of these left school without a feeling that they had at least one friend who believed in them and to whom they could go and tell their troubles. Even the meanest boys in school came to believe that a teacher wasn't necessarily an enemy. I know this is true because well I was there. Former pupils, returning to the home town for a visit after being in college or out in the world, have a habit of dropping around almost the first thing for a talk with Miss Elwell. Once I found at her home a young man recently out of the penitentiary. But her cordial gratitude toward him did not indicate that she regarded him as any different from those of us who, more lucky than he, were never caught in our mischief, or grew up under more auspicious early environment.

"Judging from your years of experience as a teacher," I asked her, "what percentage of boys are bad?”

She thought a moment, and then, weighing her words, replied:

"Bad boys? I have never known one. I have had to deal with misunderstood boys, disgruntled boys, and misplaced boys, but I can't recall one that might properly be called bad. I doubt if any such exist.'

This, mind you, after nearly a half century in the public schools.

"Many a poor little victim of baleful heredity or environment," she went on, "has been called bad when he was only lonely or neglected, and resorted to wilful disobedience as a means of asserting his individuality. Indeed, I have often found that the supposed bad boy merely had an excess of virtues held in highest esteem. Truancy, for example, is regarded as an

*This article is reprinted from Collier's, the National Weekly, by permission of the editor.

outcropping of badness, and yet I imagine that most truancy is due to simple elemental curiosity-a desire to seek, to find, and not to yield. A live boy wishes to escape from his depressing association with a teacher who doesn't know how to interest him. He would wander far afield, particularly in the springtime, in quest of a little of the beauty of the world, maybe half unconsciously hoping to find adventure rivaling those of Ulysses or Tom Sawyer. Perhaps it is curiosity also to learn just what will happen to one who fails to conform. Is this unadulterated badness or is it the spunk of a superior though possibly misguided spirit that rebels against yielding too easily in the eternal struggle between society and the individual? Of course, we must not ignore truancy or other escapades with an inane smile of dishonest optimism. No, we must save the youngster from mistakes for which he may have to pay as dearly as for sins. We must try to teach him that there are situations in which even a born rebel finds it wise to conform. But while trying to help him, we must dismiss the idea from our minds that we are dealing with somebody who is inherently bad.

"A growing boy wants adventure thrills! But civilization as he sees it in school doesn't seem to contribute the thrills that he hears the older generation tell about. Does father regale posterity, even unto the third generation, with accounts of his scholastic triumphs or deeds of social welfare? A gentle lad I knew A gentle lad I knew who had heard many memoirs of paternal exploits along the scholastic Alameda, broke out in defiance and smart-aleck rudeness that savored of a tough; to his mother's reproof he replied sedately: 'Well, if I don't do something pretty soon, like father tells about, I won't have anything to tell my little boys when I grow up.' I recall another bit of dialogue: 'Now, mother wants you to be a little man.' 'I don't want to be a nice man; I want to be a fellow like dad.'

"This may sound paradoxical, but sometimes the really good, docile youth is grow

ing in character at the same time that his report card shows a lapse in deportment. I have seen this happen so often that I long ago came to accept it as logical and natural. A bit of negative goodness-that is, not doing wrong because of a tendency not to do anything at all—is jostled by an impulse of social initiative."

His dirty-faced friends. Miss Elwell is a living refutation of the phrase: "Only a mother can understand." The trouble with the average mother, as well as with the average father, is that she doesn't understand. "It's so easy," remarks Miss Elwell, "for us adults to confuse badness in a child with anything that bothers us. 'Be a good boy,' we say, 'and stop making that noise.' The noise isn't to be confused with wrongdoing; indeed, it wouldn't even be objectionable to us if we were younger-except that it isn't nearly as loud as it might be. A child is not just a small adult. We forget that childhood most craves activity. 'Do' is the key word for the regulation of young child life. Too often we try to substitute 'Don't.' If you want to keep a child out of mischief, give him something to do. The main thing is to try to keep young by doing with the youngster and entering into his activities and interests whether in the field or in the library. When a home is one of laughter, love, and song, with shared interests, the problems of adolescence are not serious.

"Harm never lies in what a boy does so much as in his motive in doing it. Throughout my experience as a teacher I've felt, for example, that boys in school should be discouraged from smoking cigarettes. But the biggest objection isn't any physical harm that might come from the practice; rather it is the attitude of the boy in his defensive 'What's wrong about it?' rather than 'what's the good in it?'

"The worst thing about a boy's smoking is the danger to him from the fact of sneaking his smokes. He would be in danger, of course, if he sneaked to church. If I can get a boy to talk about his smok