to teach. But swimmers and teachers must not fear to strike out when occasion demands. Methods and lesson plans are necessary, but they were never meant to paralyze ingenuity and impulse in face to face teaching. Thousands of normal graduates will leave their schoolrooms this spring-with worthy ambitions, commendable fitness, and — crammed note books. They have hung on their teachers' words and jotted down panaceas for every ill they could foresee. But the best use to make of these cherished books, now they have fulfilled their purpose of aiding memory, is to pile them high in a sacrificial bonfire. They are only crutches and nobody ever grew wings by leaning on crutches. No reason for grief as the precious books disappear. The fundamental principles absorbed from instructors and the normal "course" cannot burn. The individuality of each student-soul cannot fall to ashes. The character, on which depends failure or success in the uncharted future, is not scorched, even though every scrap of note book equipment vanishes in flame. All that is worth while, all that is the real secret of true teaching remains invisible and indestructible. Value of Games for Children "G AMES of children are surely hallowed, if anything in the world can be," said Dr. H. E. Arnold, "for they are as old as the race itself, planted in the heart of the child by Nature herself for his education and development." Dr. Arnold, who is in charge of Gymnastics at the New Haven Normal School, began a course of lectures on the subject of "Games" under the auspices of the Anderson Gymnastic Club. "All children play games," he said, "provided they are given time and space. They play them naturally, without instruction or direction. No one knows where they learned them. No one knows where the games came from originally. They are passed on from one generation of children to another. And yet play is a form of work. There is nothing more sure than that play is not rest. Children will play games until they drop with exhaustion. What purpose, then, had Nature in planting this absorbing love of play in the child's mind, if one can speak of purpose in Nature? "The reason is that games and plays are Nature's first provision for the education of the young child. They develop him mentally, morally and physically, and, keeping pace with his advancing years by their increasing difficulty, they continue to assist his development until adult years. ONE GREAT DIFFICULTY "You cannot compel a young child to give voluntary attention. Wilful attention, the determined fixing of the mind upon any given subject, is one of the last and most complex powers attained by the mind. It is often impossible to secure it from adults. As for children, they can only with difficulty be taught anything through attention which they are driven to fix upon anything. They learn with ease only that in which they are interested. It is for this reason that games with which they are so enraptured are so full of education for them. They learn with perfect unconsciousness. Their senses are being trained, their imaginative powers developed, keen observation and power of concentrated attention are being taught them, while their moral sense is being developed by the enforced observance of the rules of the game. "One must be very careful not to introduce children to any game that is too old for them. Boys of seven cannot play baseball. They will try to hit the ball with the bat, but they can't get through the first half of the first inning. Boys of twelve or thirteen have no success with foot all. They don't take in the spirit of the game. "In villages and small cities, where there is plenty of room to play, the children naturally take up the games suited to their years, and there are also special games for every season of the year. Marbles and tops come in when the snow goes off, and so on all through the year. But in large cities, and pre-eminently in New York, the children's birthright has been taken from them. They have been deprived of any place to play, and modern life is busy robbing them of any time to play. Among the very poor the child must work just as soon as he can find any money earning occupation. And throughout the school system the tendency is to eliminate the old time 'recess.' It is true that the recess interferes with the day's schedule; that it is sometimes hard to quiet the class down after fifteen minutes' hard play. But the remote benefits, physical and mental, to the child more than compensate for that. ARTIFICIAL CONDITIONS "No loose, unorganized public sentiment is going to win back for the children their right to play in the cities. Only determined, organized effort can secure the purchase of land for a playground around every school. There are schoolhouses in New York which when they were built stood on country roads, in the midst of fields and groves, and yet not a foot of that cheap land was bought for the children's playground. As a consequence, New York children to a large extent have forgotten how to play. They do not know the games which have been passed on by children since the childhood of the race. Under these artificial conditions it is the business of physical instructors to supply the deficiency as well as possible; to teach the children real games, which will take the place of the aimless racing and yelling, the gambling, the mean teasing or cruel jokes which may be all they know of play. "The first plays of childhood are little, aimless games, mainly hopping, which cannot be taught. I have studied them, but I can make nothing out of them. They seem to have no plan or system. Yet very young children will always play them if given time and space, and we may be sure they serve some good purpose in the child's development. GAMES OF IMITATION "The next is the group of games of imitation, the most interesting of all to me. Young children have no idea of games of competition. That is for older minds, and stretches far into the adult years. But little children will imitate everything under the sun. And they should be encouraged in this imitation. By it all their powers of observation are being trained. The child who imitates best is the keenest observer. For this whole group of imitation plays, occupying the child's mind for many years, no expensive apparatus is necessary. Let the child alone in the country, and he will furnish his own apparatus. He will build his board playhouse or find for himself the rooster's feather which transforms him into an Indian. "In a gymnasium, where material must be supplied, simple lengths of cord will enable a whole class to play horse with the utmost joy and benefit to themselves. "A while ago they examined some children in a school in Boston, and found only ten per cent had ever seen a cow. They certainly could not play they were cows, when they had never seen one. After a bit I expect only ten per cent of the children in New York will be found who have ever seen a horse. They are beginning to play automobile now. That's all right. They must play something, and they imitate what they have seen. You remember "Tom' Sawyer played that he was the steamer, the river, the captain, the pilot, and the wharf all in one. "There is a whole group of games that sharpen the senses, and the way these old games train the senses of children is a wonderful example of their natural selection or invention of plays most beneficial for their development. First come the games for the development of sight, including all that vast variety whose basic principle consists of the hiding and finding of something. Infants first distinguish objects by their color. They must learn to distinguish them by form. "Hide the Thimble' and 'Hide and Seek' are the great representatives of this class of games. The latter, a very famous game among children, played in the gathering twilight, as it usually is, is a good training in quick recognition, and with its 'in free,' running to the goal and all the rest of it, becomes a very complicated and educational game, involving quick thought, good judgment, measurement of distance, estimation of time and a number of other things. THE WORTH OF BLIND MAN'S BUFF "The simplest form of this game in the class for young children is for the children to blind their eyes, and the teacher to place any common object in plain view. The child who sees it first has the keenest observation. "When the child is blindfolded and compelled to find the desired object by sound instead of sight, it is the hearing that is trained. 'Blind Man's Buff,' a very old and celebrated game among children, is the great exemplar of this group of games. The adult who has played a great many games of 'Blind Man's Buff' in childhood has a different sort of ear from the one who hasn't. It is not only a keener ear, but an ear capable of shutting out undesired sounds, and fixing itself upon the one for which it is listening. "There is another group of games that develop the sense of touch, which element enters into 'Blind Man's Buff,' as well as that of hearing." Dr. Arnold then called up four unfortunate young men instructors in physical training, and made them illustrate his methods by having them play horse, to the vast though silent mirth of a large audience of young women. SCHOOL-ROOM A Vacation Prescription SUE GREGORY Unbind the wreathed brow Put on the oldest, loosest, kindest gown. For a year of good example, And don't forget to let the clock run down. A ten month did we work, And ne'er a duty shirk Leastways not with the special teachers 'round. And don't forget to let the clock run down. To methods bid adieu, And summer schools eschew; Dream dreams, and let the happy hours swing round, Gaze deep into the skies - Look into Nature's eyes; And don't forget to let the clock run down. Let student owls combine In gown and cap to shine, And con book-nature with a weary frown; We've done it, too, no doubt, But this time count us out, And don't forget to let the clock run down. June A season for simple living with the kindly sun and the blue sky; days of keen delight in little things, of joyous questing after beauty; days for the making of friends by being a true friend to others; days when we may enlarge our little lives by excursion to strange places, by friendly association, by the companionship of great thoughts; days that may teach us to live nobly, to work joyously, to play harder, to do all our labor better so should each June bring us indeed a golden summer.-Edwin Osgood Grover Polly and Τ' the Chicken Coop MARTHA W. STEARNS, New London, Conn. HERE is always something luring in paper dolls, something even that the real image doesn't possess. It may be the greater part the imagination must play in the game; whatever it is, the fact remains that the paper doll has charms all her own, and charms that are available in school. Invent some little story, like the following, and illustrate with cut-outs on the paper-doll plan. POLLY'S VISIT TO THE COUNTRY Polly's home was like one brick in a long row of bricks. There was nothing in particular to show it was Polly's home, but the number over the door, which was 170. It used to make Polly tired to think there were 170 other bricks like hers. Only the cipher and the parlor curtains made her sure when she had reached home. --- School No. 9 Everything went by numbers in Polly's world. In school she was No. 17. She was afraid sometimes that she would forget her number and not know who she was. Every day she thought it out · Polly - that means me 8 years old No. 17 in room 13 - grade 3 home 170, on 16th street. Polly did wish she could be some particular thing besides a figure. One day, something very particular did happen. No. 17 was subtracted from No. 13, which was not according to arithmetic, but it was true, and the difference was one vacant seat in school, and a happy Polly riding away in a milkman's wagon to the country. Polly's milkman was a very jolly man and ever since spring had come he had been threatening to "kidnap" Polly for a playfellow for his little girl, and now it had happened. Polly was going to see Alice. "What is her number?" Polly had asked the first thing. "Well, you see," her father laughed, "she is the whole family so she doesn't need one. There isn't exactly enough of anything out our way to need numbering." So Polly thought as they left the outskirts of the city behind, and city lots began to widen to green fields, and the straight rows of sickly young maples and elms all one size changed to woods and scattered groves. "Why-y, what big lots you have out here!" said Polly, "and what heaps of trees. Who owns them all?" "They're not 'lots,' honey," her milkman had replied, "they're farms; and different folks own them. That next place, on your side of the road, with the yellow and white buildings, belongs to the Green's. That's where most of your radishes and garden truck comes from; and the red house and barns, on my side, is where the Thanksgiving turkeys and ducks grow, and the next place, with the light green buildings, is Mr. Brown's poultry farm, where your butcher gets his chickens and eggs.' "I s'pose," she continued aloud, "that automobiles wouldn't be so easy for carrying milk, would they?" "Oh, ha, ha, ha!" Mr. White laughed and said, "So my girl is thinking that anybody with so much land ought to ride in an auto, is that it? Well, now, don't you puzzle your little thinkers about such things. Perhaps I could run an auto, but it would not be so nice as my Molly-mobile - that's what I call this rig for Molly doesn't get out of order and break down just when I want to go the fastest, and Molly doesn't go toot-tooting along the roads running over dogs and making everybody look at us, and Molly doesn't spoil the sweet summer air by puffing gasolene smoke from her nose." Polly laughed and asked, "But can your Molly-mobile go so fast?" "No, it can't; but it's not good to go so fast. You can't stop to feel, and see, and hear. You lose pleasant sights, and birds' songs, and the sweet air. You don't know anything in an auto except that you are going. Then, besides, I like Molly. We're friends, and a machine doesn't know anything, and Molly does.- Here's my home, honey, and there isn't anything better; and there is my Alice waiting to take you for strawberries." And Polly was landed with a big jump beside her. "This is Polly," said Mr. White, giving Alice a pat on the cheek, "the little girl who sent you the doll last Christmas." So all at once Polly found she was somebody, too, and not just a number. "I guess you must be 'Alice in Wonderland,'" said Polly, "for your name is Alice, and I think this is a wonderful land. I never saw anything but rows of brick and stone houses before. What are those big birds on the ground?" continued Polly. Fold Forwar! Fold Back "Polly" Alice laughed and looked perplexed. "Why, those are chickens; haven't you ever Leaten chickens?" "Yes," said Polly, "but the chickens I've seen only have rough skin on them. These have feathers like birds." "They all have," confided Alice, "till they're pulled out. Feathers wouldn't be good to eat, you know." Then both little girls had a good laugh and ran off for berries, and Polly had the most beautiful time she had ever known. It was so lovely not to have polite little signs telling you at every turn, as they did in the park, to "Please keep off the grass." The grass, to be sure, was not so fine and soft as that just grown to be looked at, but it could be walked on, and it was everybody's grass, and that made it nicer, and the buttercups and daisies and wild roses were not perhaps as beautiful in many ways as the florist's roses and pinks, but they were such dear little flowers, nodding at you everywhere, just inviting you to pick them because they were everybody's flowers. After a good play Alice and Polly were called to dinner on the piazza, and Polly found that though the table was full of things with the same names as in the city, they were different. Green peas from the garden were not the same as green peas from tin cans, and rich, sweet, fresh cream was very different from sticky boiled down milk, and by the time Polly reached the strawberry shortcake, she never wished to live in the city again. After dinner Alice introduced her to all the pets. There were chickens and ducks, rabbits and dogs, calves, ponies and pigs, a real menagerie that took the whole afternoon to become acquainted with. Then came the piazza supper, and the beautiful sleepy shadows chasing everything to bed and bidding the world good-night. When Polly really found herself home the next day, it was not alone, for Alice had given her a coop with two of her prettiest chickens to help her to "play country," in her The completed coop back yard. Polly was very proud of the chickens, and always explained to visitors that they were "feather chickens" and not the market kind. Let us try to make some chickens like Polly's out of paper. HOW TO MAKE PATTERNS FOR THE CHILDREN Place underneath the page, with pictures of coop, chickens and Polly, a sheet of drawing paper. Prick through the outline with a large pin. Make the pinholes at most important points in outline and also prick through inside lines, as the lines of wings and tail feathers of chickens, the slats of the coop, the features of Polly, her blouse, and basket outlines. Then with point of sharp penknife cut through these inside lines of pattern so that the children can mark through the cut lines with their pencils. Next cut around the outside lines with scissors. After the pattern is cut from the paper, trim the edges carefully so the form will be distinct to mark around. Several patterns can be made at once by pricking the pattern on three or four thicknesses of drawing paper at one time. It does not require many patterns to keep the children busy, as one can be working on the coop while the next is outlining the chickens, and so on. For one lesson the children should draw the forms, in another, cut out, and in a third, fold and color. Have them use care in holding the patterns close to the drawing paper with one or two fingers placed in centre of pattern. With the right hand mark around pattern first, then slip fingers to opposite edges of pattern, and hold while marking through cut lines with pencil. After removing patterns it is well to retrace indistinct lines, then bend up the B section of supports till level with the AA line. Then bend CC underneath and paste to BB. When correctly bent these supports will hold the chickens in upright position. Paint the combs and wattles red, the legs and feet yellow. The bodies can be left white or painted yellow, with brown wings and tail feathers. After cutting out the black spaces between bars or slats of coop, paint the rest a weather-beaten gray. Crease on line marked AB and fold margin A and paste to edge A. Put chickens in coop with heads peering through slats. Cut out support and paste to back of coop. The inside lines of Polly should be painted gray, her hair yellow or brown, eyes brown, a touch of red on cheeks and lips, dress, blue, with a little gray added to soften the tone. A The King and the Birds MINNIE B. LINN (An Old Legend Retold) CROSS the sea, long, long ago, there lived a great a and wonderful king. He was very rich and lived in a fine large palace. He loved to be in the open air and spent most of his time there. He had many servants He liked to have them at the palace and about the grounds. obey promptly and would often punish them if they tarried on the way. He had a large army of soldiers of which he was very proud. He had many costly presents given to him. He had large forests and many large orchards. Some were orchards of apple trees and some were cherry orchards, for the great king was very fond of large, sweet, red cherries. One day the king happened to be standing near a large cherry tree which was almost breaking down with the juicy fruit, when a little bird came gayly to the tree and amid its sweet song picked and ate a cherry or two. Now the king was very, very selfish, for he became angry at the little bird and wondered how he could have it punished. While he was thinking about the lost cherry, another bird and another, and still more came for a cherry feast. By this time the king was so angry that he could think of nothing but sending all the birds away, so he went to the palace and there proclaimed that he would pay a penny for every dead bird that was brought to him. Now the poor people were very sorry to see the pretty and useful songbirds killed, yet they must obey their king, so they all went to work to find the birds. Before many days hundreds and hundreds of birds were taken to the king's palace. The sweet bird songs were hushed into silence, and only an occasional song was heard in the dark forest, for the king had now paid out thousands and thousands of pennies. The king was now very happy, for he knew that the birds would get no more cherries. Day after day passed. Some days one little innocent bird was brought, then none at all. So you see the number of birds was getting less and less each day, yet the selfish king was quite happy. When the summer was over, there was not a cheerful merry bird-song to be heard in all the land. When springtime came the bugs and worms and slugs and insects of all kinds had a merry time and a feast every day, for there was not a bird to stop them from eating all the leaves, bark, and branches from the trees. The leaves on the great forest trees soon began to wither, and it looked as if they were all going to die. The trees n the king's cherry orchard were dying all those hundreds of large trees which had given so many, many bushels, yes, hundreds of bushels of cherries to the king, were all dying. What was the king to do? Some of the wise men of the palace told him that it was the bugs and worms that were killing the trees, and that birds alone would eat the bugs and save the trees. The foolish king began to see why the trees were al. dying. He now realized how useful the birds had been, for the great trees were full of cherries as long as the birds were there. Now there were no birds and the king had no cherries - not one. He went at once to the palace and told everyone, and sent out messengers to the nearby countries saying that if anyone would bring a live bird into his orchard that he would pay two pennies. The poor peasants were happy, for they loved the birds. They set to work at once searching for the birds. Back the birds came. At first, only a few - then more and more—and it was not long before the palace grounds were filled with the sweet bird-songs, for there were birds in all the trees. The king had learned a great lesson, and now he was truly happy, for all his selfishness had gone and he loved the birds. He very often went out to the gardens to watch the birds pick up insects and would laugh heartily when they swallowed a dainty bug. The king would not allow anyone to injure a little bird treasure after that, neither would he allow anyone to even touch a nest, or even an egg. He was from that time a friend of the birds and they could always have all the cherries they could eat. If they had devoured half of the fruit the wise old king would have only smiled and said, "They ought to have a few cherries to pay them for eating all those ugly worms and bugs. For without the birds there would be no cherries." |