THE FEATHER SYMBOL IN ANCIENT HOPI DESIGNS

                           J. WALTER FEWKES

Although the prehistoric Indians of Tusayan have left no written
records in the forms of books, documents, or codices, there survives
from their time a most elaborate paleography which has been preserved
on imperishable material in the dry soil of Arizona for several
centuries. This paleography is a picture writing, often highly symbolic
and complicated, but from it the student can obtain an idea of Hopi
thought and its expression at that remote time. It reveals phases
of ancient life which have been modified or lost in the subsequent
development of the race.

The most abundant of all objects found in the ruins scattered over the
Southwest are fragments of pottery, and if the cemeteries of these
ancient habitations are excavated large collections of decorated
bowls, vases, and jars may be had from any ruin of considerable size.
The majority of these fragments of pottery from Tusayan are richly
decorated with designs, some of which are very complicated. The figures
represented in this ornamentation are often realistic, but many are
highly symbolic and conventionalized. It is an object of the present
article to discuss one symbol of the latter group, and for this purpose
I have chosen the feather, which, through its metamorphosis in form, is
one of the more difficult to recognize.

Before passing to a consideration of the feather in ancient Hopi
symbolism, it may be interesting to note that very few of the
figures with which pottery from pueblo ruins is decorated have been
interpreted, and we may say that the study is as yet in its infancy.
The ancient Tusayan ware bears several designs of a simple, geometric
shape, which are widely distributed over the whole Pueblo area of
the Southwest. So far, however, as my knowledge of ancient Pueblo
paleography goes, the symbols of the feather as here indicated are
confined to ruins of villages which are purely Hopi in origin, although
they may later be found elsewhere in Arizona or New Mexico.

I have shown in several previous publications on the ceremonials of
the Hopi ritual the significant part which the figure of the feather
plays in the decoration of altars and ceremonial paraphernalia, but I
am unaware that any one has yet called attention to the very important
use of the feather symbols in the decoration of ancient Hopi ceramics.
A pottery ornamentation has a religious intent, and, since from its
presence as a decorative element there is every reason to believe that
the feather in ancient times held much the same position in the ritual
as at present, it is instructive to trace its many variations as a
symbol.

While what is here written is drawn more especially from the
paleography of Sikyatki,[1] it is true, likewise, of that represented
in all the Tusayan ruins where yellow ware is abundant. I might
instance examples from old Cuñopavi, Kisakobi or Old Walpi, and
Old Micoñinovi. It does not, however, hold in all particulars when
we study the red ware characteristic of the ruins along the Little
Colorado river, where the feather takes another symbolic form not fully
discussed in the present article. It applies to representations of
the feather as depicted on altars now in use in Tusayan, symbols of
feathers on dolls and ceremonial paraphernalia used by people who are
lineal descendants of the inhabitants of the ruined pueblos mentioned
above. The ruins of Sikyatki lie about three miles east of Walpi, and
the pueblo of which they are the remains was destroyed previously to
the middle of the sixteenth century.

I have grouped all the striking modifications in bird and feather
symbols in close approximation in an installation of the more
instructive pieces of pottery from Sikyatki in the National Museum, at
Washington, and the reader may there find a larger series illustrating
ancient Hopi paleography than has ever before been displayed. A
forthcoming report[2] of the Bureau of American Ethnology, under
the auspices of which institution these objects were collected, will
describe these variations in detail, and as this report is elaborately
illustrated, the reader will soon have abundant published material from
which to study modifications of the feather symbol in ancient Tusayan.

We have no difficulty in recognizing among the many figures of animals
which the ancient Hopi potter depicted on her wares the great group
to which any one belongs. Four-legged animals of two kinds, frogs
and lizards, are readily separated from mammals; apodal reptiles or
snakes are easily distinguished from both, and there is no difficulty
in separating the moth or butterfly from the spider or dragon-fly.
The great group to which the animal depicted belongs is not difficult
to discover, and from a large series of related designs one may trace
quite readily the changes in form which have resulted in highly
conventionalized modifications.

The most constant group of animals chosen for realistic or symbolic
representation on ancient Tusayan ceramic ware is that of birds.
More than two-thirds of all the pictographs on ancient pottery where
animals are intended represent avian forms. The modifications which
these figures pass through as they become conventionalized likewise
exceed in number and variety those of any other animals, and a
comprehensive study of the different symbols representing birds would
be a most interesting and instructive one. This study is important as
a ground-work for the following conclusions, for in no other way can
we identify as feathers some of the highly modified symbols which are
here considered. An adequate discussion of different forms of birds in
ancient designs would necessitate more pages of text and illustrations
than could here be devoted to it. If my conclusions seem hasty, I
must ask the reader not to reject them without examining collateral
evidences which I have elsewhere presented.

The ancient Hopi decorator not only represented birds in many more
different shapes than she did other animals, but even decorated other
animals with feathers in accordance with ancient traditions. Nor did
she stop with animals; symbolic figures of the sun or the lightning
or the rainbow have symbols of feathers attached to them, and this,
to us incongruous, association is often essential to indicate the
symbol. This predominance in the number of pictures of feathered
gods is a faithful reproduction of denizens of their ancient
Pantheon. The majority of the gods were avian in character, even when
anthropomorphic.[3] Several animals, as mythic lizards, snakes, and
even mammalian forms, are represented in ancient pictography, furnished
with crests of feathers on their heads. These are drawn in this way
in conformance with ancient legends, and, with traditions to guide
us, we have little difficulty in determining some of the symbolic
forms which the feather takes in pictography. This method is used by
me as corroboratory evidence in determining the prescribed symbols
of feathers which have been previously identified by their relative
positions on the bodies of birds.

It is plain, I think, that having determined from an avian figure
the form of the organs and appendages of the bird in their different
modifications, due to conventionalism, we are able to recognize the
symbolic forms adopted by ancient artists to represent the feathers of
wing, tail, or body. If figures of feathers were so well drawn that we
could identify them as such, we would have no difficulty in recognizing
a feather when drawn on a fragment of pottery, where no other part
of a bird was represented. An accurately drawn feather in such cases
would be easily recognized; but the feathers made by the ancient
Hopi decorators of pottery were not accurate representations—they
were symbolic. The only way we can identify them is by association.
Having determined the head, body, legs, tail, and wings of an animal
which must be a bird, we examine the separate components which form
the tail and conclude what part represents a tail feather. We use, in
other words, the morphological method of determining the homologies of
organs and appendages which we borrow from naturalists and apply to
pictographs.

Having thus determined the symbol of a tail or wing feather from their
positions in representations of birds and fixing in the mind its form,
we are able to recognize it where it reappears, isolated, or in new
combinations. While this way of determining the feather symbol was the
method adopted, there was brought to its aid likewise the testimony of
living priests, among whom knowledge of some of the ancient symbols
still survives. This latter aid to a comprehension of the symbols of
ancient paleography is valuable, so far as it goes, but it does not
take one long to discover that it is limited in its application. Many
ancient designs are incomprehensible to living Hopi priests, and their
interpretations are in some cases simply conjectural. The decay in
knowledge of the meanings of old symbols is due to the fact that most
of the ancient symbolism has been replaced by the modern.

In their drawings of animals the ancient Hopi artists were often far
from realistic. They violated many fundamental rules in perspective.
This is well illustrated in profile figures. It often happens, for
instance, in delineating the head of an animal, as seen from one side,
that both eyes are represented. The feathers of a bird's tail, normally
on a horizontal plane, are brought into a vertical. Internal organs
which are hidden from sight are sometimes represented—a characteristic
of modern Pueblo art, where, as in pictures of antelopes, it is not
uncommon to find the heart and œsophagus, or even the intestinal tract,
drawn as if the animal were transparent. In a figure of a bird shown
on plate LIX in my preliminary account of Sikyatki, where the artist
apparently had no available space in which to represent the extremity
of the tail, it is bent upward, and the tips of three feathers
conventionalized into three triangles, one of the symbols of wing
feathers, as elsewhere shown.

In their simplest forms figures of birds are crudely represented,
consisting of a head with curved beak and elongated body, which is
continued backward into three or four parallel lines, representing tail
feathers.

It is an instructive fact that _three_[4] seems to be the predominating
number of tail feathers in pictures of birds, as seen in the clusters
of symbolic feathers, _f_, in the richly decorated vase a part of
which is depicted in figure 5. This number, however, is not universal,
for there are many well-drawn figures of birds with more than three
tail-feathers, and in some of the simpler forms there are but two.
Certain jars in the form of birds have the wing and tail feathers
represented by parallel lines, and the same bands are often employed
on the bodies of dolls to represent a feathered garment which some
mythological personages are reputed to have worn.

One of the common forms of the feather symbol is shown in figure 1,
which represents the tail of a bird as pictured on a beautiful food
basin from Sikyatki. In this figure five feathers are represented,
and the characteristic marking of each feather is a division into a
black and red zone by a diagonal line. The upper part of the figure
represents the body and the two lateral appendages the wings, which in
the original figure are well represented. A figure of feathers with the
same outline, but destitute of the characteristic markings of figure 1,
may be seen in figure 2, where three feather symbols are represented.

[Illustration: 1 2]

Figure 2[5] represents a crest composed of three feathers copied from
a design on the head of a reptilian figure depicted on the interior of
a food basin from Sikyatki. There are other figures of animals which
bear this symbolic form of feather on the head, and its occurrence as
a decorative design on the exterior of food basins, where there is no
other suggestion of a bird, is common.

The same form of the feather symbol appears in figure 3, where we
have the triangular tips differently marked from any of the previous
symbols. There are in the Sikyatki collection designs representing
birds where the feathers of the tail are identical in shape and
markings with these, and it is reasonable to suppose that in this
figure they represent the same parts as when attached to a picture of a
bird.

The fragment shown in figure 3 represents a portion of the upper
surface of a vase, of which the dotted line is the border of the
orifice.

Having determined from its position on a bird that the main design
in figure 3 is a conventionalized feather, let us see if there is
corroborative evidence from other sources telling the same story.

In modern Hopi ceremonials the priests use a small gourd receptacle for
sacred water, specimens of which have been figured elsewhere.[6] It
sometimes happens that an earthen vase is used for the same purpose.
This water gourd is covered by a cotton net, and feathers are tied to
that part of the net which surrounds the orifice. When an earthen vase
is used a cotton string is tied around the neck of the vase, and to
this string feathers are attached. Apparently we have a deep-seated
and significant connection between the ancient vase and the modern
ceremonial counterpart with appended feathers. The ancient form had
symbols of feathers painted on the upper surface about the orifice, the
modern has the feather itself tied in the same position.

In the design represented in figure 3 we have, therefore, symbols of
feathers represented as tied around the neck of an ancient Sikyatki
vase. The figure represents only a portion of the top of this vessel,
but gives enough to show the general character of this form of feather
symbol. If we compare this symbol with those on the head of the picture
of Tuñwup[7] on the upright slats of the Katcina altars of modern times
we will find an exact correspondence. They are also the same in shape
and markings as the painted wooden sticks representing feathers on the
heads of several dolls.[8]

The symbolic picture of the feather has still other modifications in
its markings from the preceding, although preserving the same shape.

One of the most highly conventionalized symbolic figures of the feather
is a triangle in which there are two parallel lines on one side. This
form of the feather symbol is said to be the feather of the wild
turkey, and the double marking recalls that of a tail feather.

We find this symbol on the angles of the lightning snakes of the
sand-picture of the Antelope altar at Cuñopavi,[9] on wooden slats of
the Flute altars,[10] and elsewhere. I have ceramic objects from the
ruins of Homolobi and Chevlon which bear this form of feather symbol,
and it appears to have been used as far south as Pinedale, on the
northern edge of the Apache reservation.

[Illustration: 3 4 5]

One of the most beautiful vessels from the cemetery of Sikyatki is
the "butterfly vase," the complicated design on which I have figured
in plate LX of the Smithsonian Report for 1895. I have represented a
sector of this design in figure 5 in order to point out the feather
decorations which form an important element in the ornamentation. The
other sectors closely resemble that figured, with the exception that
the butterflies in alternating sections have different markings on
their heads, indicative of the sex. The butterfly here represented is
female, and it is interesting to note the fact that the symbol of the
female was the same when this vase was made as that now used in Hopi
ceremonials.[11] There are three clusters of feathers (_f_) in this
section, and each cluster is composed of three members. One of these
clusters corresponds with those from the head of the reptile, figure 2.

The three feathers shown in the cut below the butterfly, and
peripherally placed on the surface of the vase, are likewise feather
symbols, but as they have different markings from the others are
probably from a different genera of birds. This form of feather symbol
is a common one on ancient Sikyatki ware. One of the best illustrations
may be seen in the wing of the bird which is figured on plate LX of
my preliminary report on Sikyatki (_op. cit._). That portion of the
wing which reproduces the wing feathers is shown in figure 4, and its
resemblance to the feathers on figure 5 will, I think, be evident at a
glance.[12]

On several of the food basins from Sikyatki we find two or more
feathers of this kind represented as hanging from a ring-shape or
crescentic figure. One of the former is represented in plate LXI of
the Smithsonian Report for 1895. The latter symbol has come down to
modern times, and the figure painted on a shield of the Soyaluña
ceremony, represented in color on plate CIV of my article on Tusayan
Katcinas,[13] is almost an exact reproduction of the design on
a Sikyatki food basin. This is one of several symbols on modern
ceremonial paraphernalia which we can trace back over three hundred
years by the aid of archaeology.

[Illustration: 6 7]

The feather may lose all semblance to the preceding forms and become a
simple triangle. This is the case in figures 6 and 7 from a vase and
food basin from Sikyatki. If the whole design, of which figure 6 is one
wing, were represented we should have no hesitancy in regarding it a
figure of a bird. From their position on this figure, then, we conclude
that their triangular designs are wing feathers. If we seek to apply
the conclusion that the triangular figure represents a feather to the
jar, a portion of which is shown in figure 7, we find that the seven
triangular designs in this figure bear the same relation to the orifice
of the jar as the symbols of feathers in figure 3. This relationship,
as will readily be seen, is confirmatory of the conclusion that the
feather symbol is sometimes reduced to a simple triangle, or, looking
for corroborative evidence, we approach the subject in another way.

The conception of a serpent with a plumed head is common in modern
Tusayan, and we find several serpents represented on ancient food
basins from Sikyatki. Two of these figures have triangular appendages
on top of the head, and, as there are no other designs on that organ
that can be referred to feathers, we conclude that the triangular
symbols represent the feathered crest of the Great Plumed Serpent.
Evidently not all triangular figures represent feathers, for some may
be simply ornamental geometric designs; but that many figures of this
shape are symbols of feathers there can hardly be a reasonable doubt,
from the evidence adduced above.

From our studies of the triangle as a wing feather we are able to
interpret many designs, where all semblance to the feather or wing is
lost. Thus in the upper part of figure 7 we have one of the most common
designs on ancient Hopi ceramics. There is nothing in it to suggest a
bird's wing, but if we compare it with the wing on the undoubted figure
of a bird (figure 6) we find a perfect homology.

The presence of eagle feathers on ancient Hopi disks, symbolic of the
sun, is frequent, and feathers are still inserted in a cornhusk border
on the margin of hoops covered with painted buckskin representing
the sun in modern Tusayan ceremonies.[14] In the old forms of sun
pictographs the disk is represented by a circle, and the symbolic
feathers are arranged in four clusters on the margin. In some instances
each of these clusters of feathers is accompanied by a curved horn
similar to that near the right-hand cluster of feathers in figure 5.
The significance of this curved addition is unknown to me, but there
are a large number of specimens in which a similar design is associated
with two or more feathers.

In figure 9 we have a symbolic form of feather which is very common in
ancient Hopi decorations. The whole design from which this was taken
represents a bird in which the part lettered w is the wing and _b_ the
body. It will be noticed that this feather is attached to the body
directly under the wing, and as feathers found on the breast of birds
are at present given an especial signification in ceremonials, it is
supposed that the symbol in this design has a similar meaning. This
symbol is therefore identified as the breast feather.

[Illustration: 8]

In looking over the variety of designs in which this form of the
feather symbol occurs, one of the most instructive is shown in figure
8, from a food basin obtained at Sikyatki by Dr Miller, of Prescott,
Arizona, after my excavations at that ruin were abandoned. The complete
design on this bowl represents a figure with five triangular peripheral
extensions from a circular band, and alternating with these are five
bundles[15] of feathers of the symbolic form shown in figure 9. This
design is probably a sun emblem, although in figures of the sun
tail-feathers in four clusters are more common.

The symbol of the feather shown in figure 9 likewise occurs on the
head of a snake and that of a bird which is figured on the inside of a
ladle found at Sikyatki. It is also represented on the upper surface
of several vases in the same relative position to the orifice as those
already described and illustrated (figure 3).

The symbol of a feather with the markings shown in figure 10 is
likewise a common one in the decoration of ancient Hopi ceramics. The
design here reproduced (figure 10) is a section of a small, beautiful
vase, with the decoration confined to the equatorial region. From this
zone hang symbols of feathers, one of which is plainly indicated. These
zones are repeated at intervals around the vase. They may be comparable
with the feathers tied about modern ceremonial vessels to which I have
elsewhere referred.[16]

[Illustration: 9]

I have attempted in the preceding pages to show the symbolic forms
assumed by one letter, the feather, in the alphabet of design on
ancient Hopi ceramics. These designs, or some simple modifications
of them, occur in almost three-fourths of all the decorated ancient
vessels of Tusayan. With a little practice the student can readily
recognize them, thus rendering comprehensible a most important
element in ancient Hopi symbolism. There are two or three other known
letters in this alphabet, representing two or three other types which
can be identified with the same ease, but limited space prevents a
consideration of them in this article.

[Illustration: 10]

As would naturally be the case with an element of decoration so
constantly duplicated as the feather, there are numerous instances
where it has become so changed that while a figure was probably
intended for a feather symbol, it is difficult to prove that it was
such. These doubtful cases are not, therefore, discussed from the
uncertainty which hangs about their identification.

I believe enough has been written above to show that the feather was
regarded by ancient Hopi potters as an important decorative motive,
and that its symbolism had significant differentiations, so that even
different kinds of feathers were indicated by different markings on
those symbols.

Considering also how strong a hold the feather has on the modern Hopi
mind in ceremonial usages, I am led to the belief that its influence
on the ancient mind was of the same general character. Thus we come
back to a belief, taught by other reasoning, that ornamentation of
ancient pottery was something higher than simple effort to beautify
ceramic wares. The ruling motive in decorating these ancient vessels
was a religious one, for in their system everything was under the
same sway. Esthetic and religious feelings were not differentiated,
the one implied the other, and to elaborately decorate a vessel
without introducing a religious symbol was to the ancient potter an
impossibility. This union is weaker in the mind of the modern Hopi,
yet still potent; but as the new conception of beauty has crowded out
the religious element, the character of the pottery and its decoration
have deteriorated. Many patterns which once had a religious symbolism
are mechanically followed, through conservatism, and pottery of fair
character is still made, but every Pueblo shows a marked decadence in
the potter's art. As time goes by and the Hopi are more modified by
their new environment—contact with civilization—the white crockery of
the traders will replace the aboriginal wares. This will lead to a
still greater degeneracy of native ceramics, and, if they survive at
all, it will be more as a commercial product than a medium of religious
expression. It can readily be seen that the decorations on pottery
made "for the trade" will no longer be a spontaneous expression of
aboriginal art, but imitative of types of beauty which please the
purchaser. Into that condition much of the pottery made in pueblos
along the railroad has already drifted, and Hopi potters are not behind
their neighbors in recognizing those decorative designs which please
the buyer and those which are most often rejected. Quite in line with
what is said above is the feeling which leads some of the best potters
of the East Mesa to imitate ancient forms of decorations. These copies
are adorned with old patterns because ethnologists ask for ancient ware
and purchase vessels with imitations of ancient symbols more eagerly
than modern. Trade cannot revive the old religious feeling which
expressed itself on ancient Hopi ceramics or resuscitate the defunct
intimate union of esthetic and religious inspiration.

Finally, and this is embraced in the primary reason why I am interested
in the archeology of the Southwest or any other region, a study of the
religious decorative symbols of ancient pottery is an investigation
not alone of the peculiarities of one cluster of men and women in
ancient Arizona, but of religion in a characteristic environment.[17]
A psychologist devises experiments in which he places individual men
or animals under conditions to observe how they are thereby affected.
Nature has performed a psychological experiment on a grand scale
for the ethnologist in the semi-deserts of Arizona, and has set
tribes of men in a special environment for our study. The problem of
the ethnologist is to consider the effect on religion as shown in
the products or expression of the same. The most important ethnic
characteristic of man is his religion. It distinguishes him from other
animals and embraces all other mental characteristics, sociology,
language, and arts.

Man can transmit his religious feelings to posterity by legends and by
paleographic records. The former, if not recorded, may suffer changes
in transmission, may be colored by successive generations, which have
heard them from their elders and passed them along to their children.
Paleography does not change. The ancient pictures are the same as when
buried in the ancient graves. We may not be able to fully interpret
them, but we are sure they have not been materially changed in the
years which separate our time from that in which they were drawn.
Imperfect as this picture-writing is as a means of transmitting to
us the religion of prehistoric Tusayan when compared with written
documents, it will in connection with legends yield a rich harvest to
the student of the history of the Pueblo beliefs. The investigator who
neglects this element in them misses the soul of the study.

                              FOOTNOTES:

[1] For a discussion of the antiquity of Sikyatki, see "Prehistoric
Culture of Tusayan," _American Anthropologist_, 1896, and _Report of
the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution_, 1895.

[2] A preliminary report will be found in the Smithsonian Report for
1895.

[3] The reason for this relatively large number of avian over other
zoomorphic deities in the Hopi system is not apparent.

[4] Compare the combination of _three_ feathers in Aztec and Maya
symbolism.

[5] This figure shows the head below, with the eye well drawn. The
continuation to the left is the neck, that to the right a beginning of
an elaborate snout.

[6] A number of these gourds are figured in my accounts of Tusayan
ceremony. A vase with attached feathers, called _patne_, is represented
on page 43, _Journ. Amer. Eth. and Arch._, vol. IV.

[7] _Journ. Amer. Eth. and Arch._, vol. II, pp. 86, 107; _American
Anthropologist_, May, 1897, pp. 133, 134.

[8] It will be seen on consultation of my article on "Dolls of the
Tusayan Indians" that there are several in which the crests of feathers
on the heads are represented by sticks with symbolic markings. In some
instances we have real feathers instead of symbols. An example of this
kind is figured on page 136, _American Anthropologist_, May, 1897.

[9] Tusayan Snake Ceremonies, plate LXXII.

[10] _Journ. Amer. Eth. and Arch._, vol. II, p. 120.

[11] See male and female lightning snakes on Walpi Antelope altar.

[12] The three arrowpoints, figure 4, represent the flint arrowpoints
which the mythic bird is reputed to have worn in its feathers.

[13] Fifteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology.

[14] Tusayan Katcinas, Fifteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of
American Ethnology. A figure of the symbolic sun disk from which the
feathers have been removed is given on plate CIV of that memoir.

[15] The bundle here figured represents eight feathers.

[16] The symbol of the feather was painted on the vase in ancient
times, whereas in modern vessels stringed feathers are tied in the same
positions. Probably the latter custom was also common in ancient times.

[17] It is believed that the religious sentiment permeated and
dominated all ancient Hopi art as well as sociology, and that a study
of the symbolism of the decorations on ancient pottery is practically a
study of religion.

                         Transcriber’s Notes:

  - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).


are not always possessed. The great world of literature is too often a
closed book. And not seldom the simple relations of arithmetical number
are beyond the grasp of the applicant. In short, our rural schools, as
they average, require no adequate preparation of the teacher, and do not
represent as much education in their teaching force as that needed by
the intelligent farmer, merchant, or tradesman.

The rural teacher does not know the child. But little more than children
themselves, and with little chance for observation or for experience in
life, it would be strange if they did. They have had no opportunity for
professional study, and psychology and the science of education are
unknown to them. The attempts made to remedy this fatal weakness by the
desultory reading of a volume or two in a voluntary reading-circle
course do not serve the purpose. The teacher needs a thorough course of
instruction in general and applied psychology, under the tutelage of an
enthusiastic expert who not only knows his subject, but also understands
the problems of the teacher.

The rural teacher does not know the technique of the schoolroom. The
organizing of a school, the proper classification of pupils, the
assignment of studies, the arrangement of a program of studies and
recitation, the applications of suitable regulations and rules for the
running of the school, are all matters requiring expert knowledge and
skill. Yet the rural teacher has to undertake them without instruction
in their principles and without supervisory guidance or help. No wonder
that the rural school is poorly organized and managed. It presents
problems of administration more puzzling than the town school, and yet
here is where we put out our novices, boys and girls not yet out of
their "teens"--young people who themselves have no concept of the
problems of the school, no knowledge of its complex machinery, and no
experience to serve as a guide in confronting their work. No industrial
enterprise could exist under such irrational conditions; and neither
could the schools, except that mental waste and bankruptcy are harder to
measure than economic.

Nor does the rural teacher know the technique of instruction any better
than that of organization and management. The skillful conducting of a
recitation is at least as severe a test upon mental resourcefulness and
skill as making a speech, preaching a sermon, or conducting a lawsuit.
For not only must the subject-matter be organized for immature minds
unused to the formal processes of learning, but the effects of
instruction upon the child's mind must constantly be watched by the
teacher and interpreted with reference to further instruction. This
skill cannot be attained empirically, by the cut-and-dried method,
except at a frightful cost to the children. It is as if we were to turn
a set of intelligent but untrained men loose in the community with their
scalpels and their medicine cases to learn to be surgeons and doctors
by experimenting upon their fellows.

As would naturally be expected, therefore, the teaching in the average
rural school is a dreary round of inefficiency. Handicapped to begin
with by classes too small to be interesting, the rural teacher is
mechanically hearing the recitations of some twenty-five to thirty of
these classes per day. Lacking at the beginning the breadth of education
that would make teaching easy, he finds it impossible to prepare for so
many different exercises daily. The result is that the recitations are
dull, spiritless, uninteresting. The lessons are poorly prepared by the
pupils, poorly recited, and hence very imperfectly mastered. The more
advanced work cannot stand on such a foundation of sand, and so,
discouraged, the child soon drops out of school.

When it is also remembered that the tenure of service of the teacher is
very short in the rural schools, the problem becomes all the more grave.
The average term of service in the rural schools is probably not above
two years, and in many States considerably below this amount. This
requires that half of the rural teachers each year shall be beginners.
It will be impossible, of course, as long as teaching is done so largely
by girls, who naturally will, and should, soon quit teaching for
marriage, to secure a long period of service in the vocation. Yet the
rural school is, as we have seen, also constantly losing its trained
teachers to the town and city, and hence breaking in more than its share
of novices.

Added to the disadvantage inevitably coming from the brief period of
service in teaching is a similar one growing out of a faulty method of
administration. In a large majority of our rural schools the contract is
made for but one term of not more than three months. This leaves the
teacher free to accept another school at the end of the term, and not
infrequently a school will have two or even three different teachers
within the same year. There is a great source of waste at this point,
owing to a change of methods, repetition of work, and the necessity of
starting a new system of school machinery. Industrial concerns would
hardly find it profitable to change superintendents and foremen several
times a year. We do this in our schools only because we have not yet
learned that it pays to apply rational business methods to education.

Nothing that has been said in criticism of rural teaching ought to be
construed as a reflection on the rural teachers personally. The fact
that they can succeed as well as they do under conditions that are so
adverse is the best warrant for their intelligence and devotion. It is
not their fault that they begin teaching with inadequate knowledge of
subject-matter, with ignorance of the nature of childhood, and without
skill in the technique of the schoolroom. The system, and not the
individual, is at fault. The public demands a pitifully low standard of
efficiency in rural teaching, and the excellence of the product offered
is not likely greatly to surpass what society asks and is ready to pay
for.

Once again we must turn to the consolidated school as the solution of
our difficulty. The isolated district school will not be able to demand
and secure a worthy grade of preparation for teaching. The educational
standards will not rise high enough under this system to create a public
demand for skilled teachers. Nor can such salaries be paid as will
encourage thorough and extensive study and preparation for teaching.
And, finally, the professional incentives are not sufficiently strong in
such schools to create a true craft spirit toward teaching.

While it is impossible to measure the improved results in teaching
coming from the consolidated school in the same objective way that we
can measure increased attendance, yet there is no doubt that one of the
strongest arguments for the consolidated school is its more skillful and
inspiring teaching. The increased salaries, the possibility of
professional association with other teachers, the improved equipment,
the better supervision, and above all, the spirit of progress and
enthusiasm in the school itself, all serve to transform teaching from a
treadmill routine into a joyful opportunity for inspiration and service.

_The training of rural teachers_

The training of the rural teacher has never been given the same
consideration as that of town or city teachers. It is true that normal
schools are available to all alike, and that in a few States the rural
schools secure a considerable number of teachers who have had some
normal training. But this is the exception rather than the rule. In the
Middle Western States, for example, where there is a rich agricultural
population, whole counties can be found in which no rural teacher has
ever had any special training for his work. Professional requirements
have been on a par with the meager salaries paid, and other incentives
have not been strong enough to insure adequate preparation.

State normal schools have, therefore, been of comparatively little
assistance in fitting teachers for the rural school. First of all the
rural school teacher ordinarily does not go to the normal school, for it
is not demanded of him. Again, if perchance a prospective rural teacher
should attend a normal school, a town or city grade position is usually
waiting for him when he graduates. For, in spite of the growth of our
normal schools, they are as yet far from being able to supply all the
teachers required for the urban grade positions, to say nothing about
the rural schools. The colleges and universities are, of course, still
further removed from the rural school, since the high schools stand
ready to employ those of their graduates who enter upon teaching.

In some States, as for example, Wisconsin, county normal schools have
been established with the special aim of preparing teachers for the
rural schools. While this movement has helped, it does not promise to
secure wide acceptance as a method of dealing with the problem. Greater
possibilities undoubtedly exist in the comparatively recent movement
toward combining normal training with the regular high school course.
Provision for such courses now exists in New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio,
Texas, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, and a number of other States.

Combining normal training with high school education has first of all
the advantage of bringing such training _to_ prospective teachers,
instead of requiring the teachers to leave home and incur additional
expense in seeking their training. From the standpoint of the public it
has the merit of economy, in that it utilizes buildings, equipment, and
organization already in existence instead of requiring new.

But whatever may be the method employed, the rural teachers should
receive better preparation for their work than they now have. This
means, _first_, that the State must make adequate provision for the
teacher to receive his training at a minimum of expense and trouble; and
_second_, that the standard of requirement must be such that the teacher
will be obliged to secure adequate preparation before being admitted to
the school. Even with the present status of our rural schools it is not
too much to require that every teacher shall have had _at least a
four-year high school education_, and that _a reasonable amount of
normal training_ be had either in conjunction with the high school
course, or subsequent to its completion. Indiana, for example, has found
this requirement entirely feasible, and a great influence in bettering
the tone of the rural school.

Wherever the rural teacher secures his training, however, one condition
must obtain: this preparation must familiarize him with the spirit and
needs of the agricultural community, and imbue him with enthusiasm for
service in this field. It is not infrequently the case that town high
school graduates, themselves never having lived in the country, possess
neither the sympathy nor the understanding necessary to enable them to
offer a high grade of service in the rural school. Not a few of them
feel above the work of such a position, and look with contempt or pity
upon the life of the farm. The successful rural teacher must be able to
identify himself very completely with the interests and activities of
the community; nor can this be done in any half-hearted, sentimental, or
professional manner. It must be a spontaneous and natural response
arising from a true interest in the people, a knowledge of their lives,
and a sincere desire for their welfare. Any preparation that does not
result in this spirit, and train in the ability to realize it in action,
does not fit for the rural school.

_Salaries of rural teachers_

The salaries paid teachers in general in different types of schools are
one measure, though not a perfect one, of their efficiency. Salary is
not a perfect measure of efficiency, (1) because economic ability to pay
is a modifying influence. When the early New England teacher was
receiving ten or twelve dollars a month and "boarding round," he was
probably getting all that the community could afford to pay him,
although he was often a college student, and not infrequently a
well-trained graduate. The salaries paid in the various occupations are
not (2) based upon any definite standards of the value of service. For
example, the _chef_ in a hotel may receive more than the superintendent
of schools, and the football coach more than the college president; yet
we would hardly want to conclude that the services of the cook and the
athlete are worth more to society than the services of educators. And
within the vocation of teaching itself there is (3) no fixed standard
for judging teaching efficiency. Nevertheless, in general, teaching
efficiency is in considerable degree measured by differences in salaries
paid in different localities and in the various levels of school work.

Based on the standard of salary as a measure, the teaching efficiency of
rural teachers is, as we should expect from starting nearly all of our
beginners here, considerably below that in towns or cities. A study by
Coffman[6] of more than five thousand widely distributed teachers as to
age, sex, salary, etc., shows that the average man in the rural school
receives an annual salary of $390; in town schools, of $613; and in city
schools, of $919. The average woman in the rural school receives an
annual salary of $366; in town schools, of $492; and in city schools, of
$591. Men in towns, therefore, receive one and one half times as much as
men in the country, and in cities, two and one half times as much as in
the country. Women in towns receive a little more than one and one third
times as much as women in the country, and in the cities almost one and
two thirds times as much as women in the country.

The actual amount of salary paid rural teachers is perhaps more
instructive than the comparative amounts. The income of the rural
teacher is barely a living wage, and not even that if the teacher has no
parental home, or a gainful occupation during vacation times. Out of an
amount of less than four hundred dollars a year the teacher is expected
to pay for a certificate, a few school journals and professional books,
and attend teachers institutes or conventions, besides supporting
himself as a teacher ought to live. It does not need argument to show
that this meager salary forces a standard of living too low for
efficiency. It would, therefore, be unfair to ask for efficiency with
the present standard of salaries.

Nor is it to be overlooked that efficiency and salaries must mount
upward together. It would be as unjust to ask for higher salaries
without increasing the grade of efficiency as to ask for efficiency on
the present salary basis. It is probable that the eighteen- or
nineteen-year-old boys and girls starting in to teach the rural school,
with but little preparation above the elementary grades, are receiving
all they are worth, at least as compared with what they could earn in
other lines. The great point of difficulty is that they are not worth
enough. The community cannot afford to buy the kind of educational
service they are qualified to offer; it would be a vastly better
investment for the public to buy higher teaching efficiency at larger
salaries.

No statistics are available to show the exact percentage of increase in
rural teachers' salaries during recent years, but this increase has been
considerable; and the tendency is still upward. In this as in other
features of the rural school problem, however, it will be impossible to
meet reasonable demands without forsaking the rural district system for
a more centralized system of consolidated schools. To pay adequate
salaries to the number of teachers now required for the thousands of
small rural schools would be too heavy a drain on our economic
resources. Under the consolidated system a considerably smaller number
of teachers is required, and these can receive higher salaries without
greatly increasing the amount expended for teaching. In this as in other
phases of our educational problems, what is needed is rational business
method, and a willingness to devote a fair proportion of our wealth to
the education of the young.

_Supervision of rural teaching_

Our rural school teaching has never had efficient supervision. The very
nature of rural school organization has rendered expert supervision
impossible, no matter how able the supervising officer might be. With
slight modifications, the office of _county superintendent_ is,
throughout the country, typical of the attempt to provide supervision
for the rural school. While such a system may have afforded all that
could be expected in the pioneer days, its inadequacy to meet
present-day demands is almost too patent to require discussion.

First of all, it is physically impossible for a county superintendent to
visit and supervise one hundred and fifty teachers at work in as many
different schools scattered over four or five hundred square miles of
territory. If he were to devote all his time to visiting country
schools, he would have only one day to each school per year. When it is
remembered that the county superintendent must also attend to an office
that has a large amount of correspondence and clerical work, that he is
usually commissioned with authority to oversee the building of all
schoolhouses in his county, that he must act as judge in hearing appeals
in school disputes, that he must conduct all teachers' examinations and
in many instances grade the papers, and, finally, that country roads are
often impassable, it is seen that his time for supervision is greatly
curtailed. As a matter of fact some rural schools receive no visit from
the county superintendent for several years at a time.

A still further obstacle comes from the fact of the frequent changes of
teachers among rural schools. A teacher visited by the county
superintendent in a certain school this term, and advised as to how best
to meet its problems, is likely to be in a different school next term,
and required to meet an entirely new set of problems.

This is all very different from the problem of supervision met by the
town or city superintendent. For the town or city district is of small
area, and the schools few and close together. If the number of teachers
is large, the superintendent is assisted by principals of different
schools, and by deputies. The teaching force is better prepared, and
hence requires less close supervision. School standards are higher, and
the coöperation of patrons more easily secured. The course of study is
better organized, the schools better graded and equipped, and all other
conditions more favorable to efficient supervision. It would not,
therefore, be just to compare the results of supervision in the country
districts with those in urban schools without making full allowance for
these fundamental differences.

The county superintendent is in many States discriminated against in
salary as compared with other county officers, and, as a rule, no
provision is made to compensate for traveling expenses incurred in
visiting schools. This, in effect, places a financial penalty on the
work of supervision, as the superintendent can remain in his office with
considerably less expense to himself than when he is out among the
schools. In some instances, however, an allowance is made for traveling
expenses in addition to the regular salary, thus encouraging the
visiting of schools, or at least removing the handicap existing under
the older system. An attempt has also been made in some States to
relieve the county superintendent of the greater part of the clerical
work of his office by employing for him at county expense a clerk for
this purpose. These two provisions have proved of great help to the
supervisory function of the county superintendent's work, but the task
yet looms up in impossible magnitude.

The county superintendency is throughout the country almost universally
a political office. In some States, as, for example, in Indiana, it is
appointive by a non-partisan board. But, in general, the candidate of
the prevailing party, or the one who is the best "mixer," secures the
office regardless of qualifications. Sharing the fortunes of other
political offices, the county superintendency frequently has applied to
it the unwritten party rule of "two terms and out," thus crippling the
efficiency of the office by frequent changes of administration and
uncertainty of tenure.

No fixed educational or professional standard of preparation for the
county superintendency exists in the different States. If some
reasonably high standard were required, it would do much to lessen the
mischievous effects of making it a political office. In a large
proportion of cases the county superintendent is only required to hold a
middle-class certificate, and has enjoyed no better educational
facilities than dozens of the teachers he is to supervise. The author
has conducted teachers' institutes in the Middle West for county
superintendents who had never attended an institute or taught a term of
school. The salary and professional opportunities of the office are not
sufficiently attractive to draw men from the better school positions;
hence the great majority of county superintendents come from the village
principalships, the grades of town schools, or even from the rural
schools.

A marked tendency of recent years has been to elect women as county
superintendents. In Iowa, for example, half of the present county
superintendents are women, and the proportion is increasing. In not a
few instances women have made exceptional records as county
superintendents, and, as a whole, are loyally devoted to their work.
They suffer one disadvantage in this office, however, which is hard to
overcome: they find it impossible, without undue exposure, to travel
about the county during the cold and stormy weather of winter or when
the roads are soaked with the spring rains. Whether they will be able to
effect the desired coördination between the rural school and the
agricultural interests of the community is a question yet to be settled.

In spite of the limitations of the office of county superintendent,
however, it must not be thought that this office has played an
unimportant part in our educational development. It has exerted a marked
influence in the upbuilding of our schools, and accomplished this under
the most unfavorable and discouraging circumstances. Among its occupants
have been some of the most able and efficient men and women engaged in
our school system. But the time has come in our educational advancement
when the rural schools should have better supervision than they are now
getting or can get under the present system.

The first step in improving the supervision, as in improving so many
other features of the rural schools, is the reorganization of the
system through consolidation, and the consequent reduction in the number
of schools to be supervised. The next step is to remove the supervising
office as far as possible from "practical" politics by making it
appointive by a non-partisan county board, who will be at liberty to go
anywhere for a superintendent, who will be glad to pay a good salary,
and who will seek to retain a superintendent in office as long as he is
rendering acceptable service to the county. The third step is to raise
the standard of fitness for the office so that the incumbent may be a
true intellectual leader among the teachers and people of his county.
Nor can this preparation be of the scholastic type alone, but must be of
such character as to adapt its possessor to the spirit and ideals of an
agricultural people.

A wholly efficient system of supervision of rural teaching, then, would
be possible only in a system of consolidated schools, each under the
immediate direction of a principal, himself thoroughly educated and
especially qualified to carry on the work of a school adapted to rural
needs. Over these schools would be the supervision of the county
superintendent, who will stand in the same relation to the principals as
that of the city superintendent to his ward or high school principals.
The county superintendent will serve to unify and correlate the work of
the different consolidated schools, and to relate all to the life and
work of the farm.

If it is said that systems of superintendence for rural schools could be
devised more effective than the county superintendency, this may be
granted as a matter of theory; but as a practical working program, there
is no doubt that the office of county superintendent is a permanent part
of our rural school system, unless the system itself is very radically
changed. All the States, except the New England group, Ohio, and Nevada,
now have the office of county superintendent. It is likely, therefore,
that the plan of district superintendence permissive under the laws of
certain States will hardly secure wide acceptance. The county as the
unit of school administration is growing in favor, and will probably
ultimately come to characterize the rural school system. The most
natural step lying next ahead would, therefore, seem to be to make the
conditions surrounding the office of county superintendent as favorable
as possible, and then give the superintendent a sufficient number of
deputies to make the supervision effective. These deputies should be
selected, of course, with reference to their fitness for supervising
particular lines of teaching, such as primary, home economics,
agriculture, etc. A beginning has already been made in the latter line
by the employment in some counties, with the aid of the Federal
Government, of an agricultural expert who not only instructs the farmers
in their fields, but also correlates his work with the rural schools.
This principle is capable of almost indefinite extension in our school
system.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: See Coffman, _The Social Composition of the Teaching
Force_.]

[Footnote 6: _The Social Composition of the Teaching Population._]

OUTLINE

I. THE RURAL SCHOOL AND ITS PROBLEM

=The General Problem of the Rural School=

  1. The general problem of the rural school identical
  with that of all schools                                        1

  2. The newer concept measures education by efficiency           2

  3. This efficiency involves (1) knowledge,(2) attitude,
  (3) technique, or skill                                         3

  4. The purpose of the school is to make sure of
  these factors of efficiency                                     4

=The Special Problem of the Rural School=

  1. Each type of school has its special problem                  5

  2. The rural school problem originates in the nature
  of the rural community                                          5

  3. Characteristics of the rural community                       6

    _a._ Its industrial homogeneity                               6

    _b._ Its social homogeneity                                   7

    _c._ Fundamental intelligence of the rural population         8

    _d._ Economic status and standards of living                 10

    _e._ Rural isolation and its social effects                  10

    _f._ Rural life and physical efficiency                      11

    _g._ Lack of recreations and amusement                       12

  4. Recent tendencies toward progress in agricultural
  pursuits                                                       12

  5. The loss of rural population to the cities                  13

=The Adjustment of the Rural School to its Problem=

  1. Failure in adjustment of the rural school to its problem    17

  2. The rudimentary education received by rural children        17

  3. Failure of the rural school to participate in recent
  educational progress                                           18

  4. The rural school inadequate in its scope                    19

  5. Need of better organization in the rural school             20

  6. Inadequacy of rural school buildings and equipment          21

  7. The financial support of the rural school                   22

  8. Summary and suggestions                                     23

II. THE SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE RURAL SCHOOL

=The Rural School and the Community=

  1. The fundamental relations of school and community           25

  2. Low community standards of education                        25

  3. The rural community's need of a social center               26

    _a._ Its social isolation a serious drawback                 27

    _b._ Grave moral dangers arising from social isolation       28

    _c._ Rural environment more dangerous to youth
    than city environment                                        29

    _d._ Effects of monotony on adults                           30

  4. The rural school as a social center                         30

  5. The ideal rural school building and equipment               32

  6. Social activities centering in the school                   33

  7. Reorganization needed to make the rural school
  effective as a social and intellectual center                  34

=The Consolidation of Rural Schools=

  1. Consolidation the first step toward rural school
  efficiency                                                     35

  2. Irrationality of present district system                    36

  3. Obstacles in the way of consolidation                       37

  4. The present movement toward consolidation                   38

  5. Effects of consolidation                                    40

    _a._ On attendance                                           41

    _b._ On expense                                              41

    _c._ On efficiency                                           42

  6. The one-room school yet needed as a part of the
  rural system                                                   42

=Financial Support of the Rural School=

  1. Lack of adequate financial support of rural schools         43

  2. Difference in city and rural basis for taxation             44

  3. Low school tax characteristic of rural communities          45

  4. State aid for rural schools                                 46

  5. Safeguards required where the principle of state
  aid is supplied                                                47

  6. Summary and conclusion                                      48

=The Rural School and its Pupils=

  1. The spirit of the pupils as a test of the school            50

  2. The negative attitude of rural pupils toward their school   51

  3. Causes of this defection to be sought in the school         51

  4. The problem of poor rural school attendance                 52

  5. The consolidated school as a cure for indifferent
  attitude and poor attendance                                   53

III. THE CURRICULUM OF THE RURAL SCHOOL

=The Scope of the Rural School Curriculum=

  1. The modern demand for a broader education                   57

  2. The meagerness of the rural school curriculum               58

  3. The rural child requires full elementary and high
  school course                                                  60

  4. Disadvantages of sending rural child to town school         60

  5. Necessary reorganization in rural school offering
  broadened curriculum                                           62

  6. General nature of the new curriculum                        62

=The Rural Elementary School Curriculum=

  1. Relation of the curriculum to social standards
  and ideals                                                     64

  2. The mother tongue                                           65

    _a._ Necessity for its mastery                               65

    _b._ Learning the mechanics of the language                  66

    _c._ Developing the art of expression, oral and
    written                                                      67

    _d._ Creation of love for reading                            67

    _e._ Formal grammar out of place in the elementary
    school                                                       68

  3. Number                                                      69

    _a._ The prominent place occupied by arithmetic              69

    _b._ Importance of development of the number concept         69

    _c._ An undue proportion of time devoted to arithmetic       70

    _d._ Desirable changes in the teaching of arithmetic         71

  4. History and civics                                          71

    _a._ The right and duty of every person to know
    the history and government of his country                    72

    _b._ History not to deal chiefly with war and
    politics, but to emphasize the social and industrial side    72

    _c._ The library of historical books                         73

    _d._ Functional versus analytical civics                     73

  5. Geography and nature study                                  74

    _a._ Advantage of the rural school in this field             74

    _b._ The social basis of geography                           75

    _c._ Application of geography and nature study
    to the farm                                                  75

  6. Hygiene and health                                          76

    _a._ Criticism of older concept of physiology for
    the elementary school                                        76

    _b._ Content of practical course in hygiene                  77

    _c._ Application of hygiene to the child's health
    and growth                                                   77

  7. Agriculture                                                 78

    _a._ Adaptability to the rural elementary school             78

    _b._ Content of the elementary course in agriculture         79

    _c._ Relation to farm life                                   79

  8. Domestic science and manual training                        79

    _a._ Place in elementary rural school                        80

    _b._ What can be taught                                      80

    _c._ Its practical application                               80

  9. Music and art                                               81

    _a._ Necessity in a well-balanced curriculum                 81

    _b._ Appreciation rather than criticism the aim              81

  10. Physical training                                          81

    _a._ Need of physical training of rural children             82

    _b._ Rural school athletics                                  82

=The Rural High School Curriculum=

  1. Rural high schools not yet common                           83

  2. The functions of the rural high school                      84

  3. English in the rural high school                            84

    _a._ Its aim                                                 85

    _b._ Points of difference from present high school
    course                                                       86

  4. Social science to have an applied trend                     86

  5. The material sciences as related to the problems
  of the farm                                                    87

  6. Manual training and domestic science                        89

  7. A modified course in high school mathematics                89

  8. Foreign language not to occupy an important place           90

  9. The high school course to include music and art             90

IV. THE TEACHING OF THE RURAL SCHOOL

=The Importance of Teaching=

  1. Teaching the fundamental purpose of the school              92

  2. The child and the subject-matter                            92

  3. The teacher as an intermediary between child
  and subject-matter                                             93

  4. Hence the teacher must know the nature of the child         94

  5. The teacher must know the subject-matter of education       95

  6. Failure to measure up to this requirement                   97

=Teaching in the Rural School=

  1. The degree of training of rural teachers in the
  subject-matter                                                 98

  2. Present lack of professional training                      100

  3. The effects of inexperience                                101

  4. Short tenure of service in rural schools                   102

  5. Level of teaching efficiency low                           103

  6. Improvement through consolidated schools                   104

=The Training of Rural Teachers=

  1. Inexperienced and untrained teachers begin in
  the rural schools                                             105

  2. Normal schools supply few teachers to rural schools        106

  3. A reasonable demand for training of rural teachers         107

  4. Rural teacher training in normal high schools              107

  5. The rural teacher's training must be adapted to
  spirit of rural school                                        108

=Salaries of Rural Teachers=

  1. Salary as a measure of efficiency                          109

  2. Salaries of rural teachers compared with town
  and city teachers                                             110

  3. Necessity of increased salaries                            111

  4. Increase in salary and in efficiency must go together      111

  5. Salaries in consolidated schools                           112

=Supervision of Rural Teaching=

  1. Impossibility of giving district schools efficient
  supervision                                                   112

  2. Obstacle in number of schools and frequent
  change of teachers                                            113

  3. Comparison of work of county superintendent
  with city superintendent                                      114

  4. Political handicaps on county superintendent               115

  5. The necessity of better educational standards
  and better salary for the county superintendent               116

  6. Women as county superintendents                            116

  7. Efficient supervision possible only under a consolidated
  system                                                        117

RIVERSIDE EDUCATIONAL MONOGRAPHS

_GENERAL EDUCATIONAL THEORY_

DEWEY'S MORAL PRINCIPLES IN EDUCATION                      .35

ELIOT'S EDUCATION FOR EFFICIENCY                           .35

ELIOT'S TENDENCY TO THE CONCRETE AND PRACTICAL IN MODERN
EDUCATION                                                  .35

EMERSON'S EDUCATION                                        .35

FISKE'S THE MEANING OF INFANCY                             .35

HYDE'S THE TEACHER'S PHILOSOPHY                            .35

PALMER'S THE IDEAL TEACHER                                 .35

PROSSER'S THE TEACHER AND OLD AGE                          .60

TERMAN'S THE TEACHER'S HEALTH                              .60

THORNDIKE'S INDIVIDUALITY                                  .35

_ADMINISTRATION AND SUPERVISION OF SCHOOLS_

BETTS'S NEW IDEALS IN RURAL SCHOOLS                        .60

BLOOMFIELD'S VOCATIONAL GUIDANCE OF YOUTH                  .60

CABOT'S VOLUNTEER HELP TO THE SCHOOLS                      .60

COLE'S INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS          .35

CUBBERLEY'S CHANGING CONCEPTIONS OF EDUCATION              .35

CUBBERLEY'S THE IMPROVEMENT OF RURAL SCHOOLS               .35

LEWIS'S DEMOCRACY'S HIGH SCHOOL                            .60

PERRY'S STATUS OF THE TEACHER                              .35

SNEDDEN'S THE PROBLEM OF VOCATIONAL EDUCATION              .35

TROWBRIDGE'S THE HOME SCHOOL                               .60

WEEKS'S THE PEOPLE'S SCHOOL                                .60

_METHODS OF TEACHING_

BAILEY'S ART EDUCATION                                     .60

BETTS'S THE RECITATION                                     .60

CAMPAGNAC'S THE TEACHING OF COMPOSITION                    .35

COOLEY'S LANGUAGE TEACHING IN THE GRADES                   .35

DEWEY'S INTEREST AND EFFORT IN EDUCATION                   .60

EARHART'S TEACHING CHILDREN TO STUDY                       .60

EVANS'S TEACHING OF HIGH SCHOOL MATHEMATICS                .35

FAIRCHILD'S THE TEACHING OF POETRY IN THE HIGH SCHOOL

HALIBURTON AND SMITH'S TEACHING POETRY IN THE GRADES       .60

HARTWELL'S THE TEACHING OF HISTORY                         .35

HAYNES'S ECONOMICS IN THE SECONDARY SCHOOL                 .60

KILPATRICK'S THE MONTESSORI SYSTEM EXAMINED                .35

PALMER'S ETHICAL AND MORAL INSTRUCTION IN THE SCHOOLS      .35

PALMER'S SELF-CULTIVATION IN ENGLISH                       .35

SUZZALLO'S THE TEACHING OF PRIMARY ARITHMETIC              .60

SUZZALLO'S THE TEACHING OF SPELLING                        .60

RIVERSIDE TEXTBOOKS IN EDUCATION

Edited by ELLWOOD P. CUBBERLEY, Head of the Department of Education,
Leland Stanford, Jr., University.

The editor and the publishers have most carefully planned this series to
meet the needs of students of education in colleges and universities, in
normal schools, and in teachers' training courses in high schools. The
books will also be equally well adapted to teachers' reading circles and
to the wide-awake, professionally ambitious superintendent and teacher.
Each book presented in the series will embody the results of the latest
research, and will be at the same time both scientifically accurate, and
simple, clear, and interesting in style.

The Riverside Textbooks in Education will eventually contain books on
the following subjects:--

1. History of Education.--2. Public Education in America.--3. Theory of
Education.--4. Principles of Teaching.--5. School and Class
Management.--6. School Hygiene.--7. School Administration.--8. Secondary
Education.--9. Educational Psychology.--10. Educational Sociology.--11.
The Curriculum.--12. Special Methods.

Now Ready

*RURAL LIFE AND EDUCATION.

     By ELLWOOD P. CUBBERLEY. $1.50 _net_. Postpaid. Illustrated.

*THE HYGIENE OF THE SCHOOL CHILD.

     By LEWIS M. TERMAN, Associate Professor of Education, Leland
     Stanford Junior University. $1.65 _net_. Postpaid. Illustrated.

*THE EVOLUTION OF THE EDUCATIONAL IDEAL.

     By MABEL IRENE EMERSON, First Assistant in Charge, George Bancroft
     School, Boston. $1.00 _net_. Postpaid.

*HEALTH WORK IN THE SCHOOLS.

     By ERNEST B. HOAG, Medical Director, Long Beach City Schools,
     California, and LEWIS M. TERMAN. Illustrated. $1.60 _net_.
     Postpaid.

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The HOUGHTON MIFFLIN PROFESSIONAL LIBRARY

For Teachers and Students of Education

_THEORY AND PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION_

AMERICAN EDUCATION

     By ANDREW S. DRAPER, Commissioner of Education of the State of New
     York. With an Introduction by NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER, President of
     Columbia University. $2.00, _net_. Postpaid.

GROWTH AND EDUCATION

     By JOHN M. TYLER, Professor of Biology in Amherst College. $1.50,
     _net_. Postpaid.

SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION

     By M. VINCENT O'SHEA, Professor of Education in the University of
     Wisconsin. $2.00, _net_. Postpaid.

THE PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION

     By WILLIAM C. RUEDIGER, Ph. D., Assistant Professor of Educational
     Psychology in the Teachers College of the George Washington
     University. $1.25, _net_. Postpaid.

THE INDIVIDUAL IN THE MAKING

     By EDWIN A. KIRKPATRICK, Teacher of Psychology, Child Study and
     School Laws, State Normal School, Fitchburg, Mass. $1.25, _net_.
     Postpaid.

A THEORY OF MOTIVES, IDEALS, AND VALUES IN EDUCATION

     By WILLIAM E. CHANCELLOR, Superintendent of Schools, Norwalk, Conn.
     $1.75, _net_. Postpaid.

EDUCATION AND THE LARGER LIFE

     By C. HANFORD HENDERSON. $1.30, _net_. Postage 13 cents.

HOW TO STUDY AND TEACHING HOW TO STUDY

     By FRANK MCMURRY, Professor of Elementary Education in Teachers
     College, Columbia University. $1.25, _net_. Postpaid.

The HOUGHTON MIFFLIN PROFESSIONAL LIBRARY

For Teachers and Students of Education

BEGINNINGS IN INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION

     By PAUL H. HANUS, Professor of the History and Art of Teaching in
     Harvard University. $1.00, _net_. Postpaid.

PRACTICAL ASPECTS AND PROBLEMS

ETHICS FOR CHILDREN. A Guide for Teachers and Parents

     By ELLA LYMAN CABOT, Member of the Massachusetts Board of
     Education. $1.25, _net_. Postpaid.

CHARACTER BUILDING IN SCHOOL

     By JANE BROWNLEE, formerly Principal of Lagrange School, Toledo,
     Ohio. 16mo. $1.00, _net_. Postpaid.

HOW TO TELL STORIES TO CHILDREN

     By SARA CONE BRYANT. $1.00, _net_. Postpaid.

TALKS ON TEACHING LITERATURE

     By ARLO BATES, Professor of English Literature in the Massachusetts
     Institute of Technology. Professor Bates is also the author of
     "Talks on the Study of Literature," "Talks on Writing English,"
     etc. $1.30, _net_. Postpaid.

LITERATURE AND LIFE IN SCHOOL

     By J. ROSE COLBY, Professor of Literature in the Illinois State
     Normal University. $1.25, _net_. Postpaid.

THE KINDERGARTEN

     By SUSAN BLOW, PATTY HILL, and ELIZABETH HARRISON, assisted by
     other members of the Committee of Nineteen of the International
     Kindergarten Union. With a Preface by LUCY WHEELOCK and an
     Introduction by ANNIE LAWS, Chairman of the Committee. 16mo. $1.25
     _net_. Postpaid.

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