A Dominie in Doubt Part 6
"But," I protested seriously, "it's essential. You simply must break your authority if you are to have a free school. There can be no real self-expression if you are always standing by to stamp out slacking and noise."
"But," he protested, "didn't I tell 'em I was giving up my authority?"
"Yes, but they don't believe you. You've got the eye of an authority."
He was by this time getting rather indignant.
"I can't go the length you do," he said sourly. "I'm not an anarchist."
"In that case I'd advise you to chuck the experiment, Mac," I said with an indifferent shrug of my shoulders. The shrug nettled Mac; he is one of the bull-dog breed, and I saw his lips set.
"I've begun it, and I won't chuck it," he said firmly. "And I hope to prove that your methods are all wrong. Let it come gradually; that's what I say."
When he came over at four o'clock his face glowed with excitement. He slapped me on the back with his heavy hand.
"Man," he cried, "it's going fine! We had our first trial this afternoon."
"Go on," I said.
"Oh, it was a first cla.s.s start. Jim Inglis threw his pencil at Peter Mackie."
"I hope he didn't miss," I said flippantly.
Mac ignored my levity.
"And then I didn't know what to do. My first impulse was to haul him out and strap him, but of course I didn't. I just said to the cla.s.s: 'You saw what Jim Inglis did? You have to decide what is to be done about it'."
"And they answered: 'Please, sir, give him the tawse'?" I said.
Mac laughed.
"That's exactly what they did say, but I told them that they were governing themselves, and suggested that they elect a chairman and decide by vote."
"Bad tactics," I commented. "You should have left them to settle their own procedure. What happened then?"
"They appointed Mary Wilson as chairman, and then John Smith got up and proposed that the prisoner get six scuds with the tawse from me. The motion was carried unanimously."
"You refused of course?" I said.
"Man, I couldn't refuse. I was alarmed, because six scuds are far too many for a little offence like chucking a pencil. I made them as light as possible."
I groaned.
"What would you have done?" he asked.
"Taken the prisoner's side," I said promptly, "I should have chucked every pencil in the room at the judge and jury. Then I should have pointed out that I refused to do the dirty work of the community."
"But where does the self-government come in there?" he protested.
"Chucking things at the jury is anarchy, pure anarchy."
"I know," I said simply. "But then anarchy is necessary in your school. You don't mean to say that the children thought that throwing a pencil was a great crime? What happened was that they projected themselves on to you; unconsciously they said: 'The Mester thinks this a crime and he would punish it severely.' They were trying to please you. I say that anarchy is necessary if these children are to get free from their dependence on you and their fear of you. So long as you refuse to alter your old values you can't expect the kids to alter their old values. Unless you become as a little child you cannot enter the kingdom of--er--self-government."
I know that Mac's experiment will fail, and for this reason; he wants his children to run the school themselves, but to run it according to his ideas of government.
I think of an incident that happened when I was teaching in a school in London. I had a drawing lesson, and the children made so much noise that the teacher in the adjoining room came in and protested that she couldn't make her voice heard. The noise in my room seemed to increase . . . and the lady came in again. The noise increased.
Next day I went to my cla.s.s.
"You made such a noise yesterday that the teacher next door had to stop teaching. She rightly complained. Now I want to ask you what you are going to do about it."
"You should keep us in order," said Findlay, a boy of eleven.
"I refuse," I said; "it isn't my job."
This raised a lively discussion; the majority seemed to agree with Findlay.
"Anyway," I said doggedly, "I refuse to be your policeman," and I sat down.
There was much talking, and then Joy got up.
"I think we ought to settle it by a meeting, and I propose Diana as chairman."
The idea was hailed with delight, and Diana was elected chairman and she took my desk seat and I went and sat down in her place.
Joy jumped up again.
"I propose that Mr. Neill be put out of the room."
The motion was carried.
"Righto!" I said, as I moved to the door, "I'll go up to the staff-room and have a smoke. Send for me if you want me."
I smoked a cigarette in the staff-room, and as I threw the stump into the grate Nancy came in.
"You can come down now."
I went down.
"Well," I said cheerily, "have you decided anything?"
"Yes," said the chairman, "we have decided that----"
Joy was on her feet at once.
"I propose that we don't tell Mr. Neill what we have decided. We can ask him at the end of the week if he notices any difference in our behaviour."