Studies in Art Appreciation VII C. Edward Newell Supervisor of Art and Handwork, Springfield, Mass. Children of the Shell-Bartolome Esteban Murillo Suggestive Method of Study Do you think the children in this picture are beautiful? Are they boys or girls? Which of the two children seems to be the older? How are they dressed? What is the boy who kneels doing? From what is he drinking? Who is giving him a drink? What is the boy at the left doing to steady the shell? Where is he looking? What is he doing with his left hand? Why does one boy stoop or kneel? What is he carrying in one hand? What is floating from the cross? To what is the younger boy pointing? Where s the lightest part of the picture? Does this help you to The Story of the Picture This beautiful picture shows us two little boys, attractive, healthy and lovely. The one standing is supposed to represent the Christ Child and the one kneeling represents his cousin John, sometimes called St. John. There must be a spring of water near by, for Jesus is giving St, John a drink out of a shell. What a good cup the shell makes! The little St. John eagerly holds the shell to his lips, enjoying the refreshing water, for he is evidently tired and thirsty. You see how he is kneeling to rest himself while drinking. Over his shoulder he holds a see the head of the Christ Child more readily? How many little cherubs or angels can you count? Are the two boys on the earth? Where are the cherubs? How are they holding their little hands? Can you see them as clearly as you can see the boys? What is lying on the ground? Does the lamb look comfortable? Where is the lamb looking? Why do you think the picture is called "Children of the Shell"? Do you like the picture? Why? Do you know whom these little children represent? Do you remember a time when you were tired and very, very thirsty? How good a cool drink of water tasted! Were you not very grateful to the one who gave you such a drink? light cross from which floats a scroll. The scroll reads, "Behold, the Lamb of God." Perhaps you will remember having seen a picture called the "Madonna of the Chair." St. John also appears with his symbol in this picture. The lamb looks up as if he loved the boys and wanted to have a part in all they did. The lamb, as a symbol of innocence, is the natural playmate of these beautiful boys. The Christ Child is often called the Divine Shepherd, so a lamb is often painted with him. The angels, unseen by the children, have come down from heaven and are watching them, some with hands clasped as in prayer. These little cherubs remind us of how tenderly the Heavenly Father watches over and cares for little children. Murillo wants us to think of the Christ Child and St. John as real little boys who loved to be out of doors and who loved to play together as other boys do. But he does not want us to forget that this is the Christ Child, so he made him much more beautiful than any real boy. This is called "idealizing" a character. A story with two meanings is sometimes called an "allegory," so this is an allegorical picture. When an artist wants us to think more of Christ's divine nature than of His human nature, he paints a halo or ring of light around his head. There is no ring of light in this picture. Murillo wants us to catch the meaning of the spirit of helpfulness, the eternal beauty of service, together with the real beauty of the children. "These things no creed forbids and no faith omits." The Story of the Artist The artist who painted "Children of the Shell" was named Murillo (moo rēl' yō) (1618-1682). He was born in Seville, Spain, the son of poor parents, who died when he was but a boy. An uncle then became his guardian and because of the boy's love for drawing, the uncle apprenticed him to a painter, who taught Murillo the use of colors. A public weekly market was held in Seville, at which food stuffs and all kinds of supplies were sold. The young Murillo was so poor that he was forced to paint very bright colored little pictures to sell at the public market, even painting some pictures on the spot at any customer's order. He did not enjoy this work, but was obliged to earn money to support himself. In course of time and by walking most of the way over the mountains, he was able to go from Seville to Madrid, the capital of Spain. Here he studied and copied pictures at the Royal Gallery and painted many of his own. He lived and studied under the care of a very famous Spanish artist by the name of Velasquez (vä läs'keth). Soon the young painter returned to Seville where he lived and painted for the rest of his life. "Children of the Shell" is considered by many to be the most beautiful picture of children in the world. The original oil painting is in the Prado Gallery, Madrid, Spain. Do We Teach Letter Writing? A young man in France during the heaviest of the fighting wrote home to his mother somewhat as follows: Dear Ma There isn't much to say, so I won't write often. If you don't hear you'll know I'm all right. It's awful muddy. Don't worry. JACK This was an extreme case, perhaps, but there were countless lads in France who were not able to send home an interesting, graphic letter because they did not see the significant details of the life. Some boys did not write even as much as Jack because they had nothing at all to say. This inability to express their feelings on paper was not wholly due to the censor, though, of course, the fact that all letters were to be read by a third person had some effect in checking spontaneity. The reason for the many inarticulate boys lies back in the schoolrooms of the last decade. We who were teaching these lads to write were teaching them to spell and to punctuate (perhaps), but we were not teaching them to express themselves. I wonder how many of us have been guilty of giving the children a letter to write when we were busy in getting out a report that was due, hoping thereby to keep them still, and reasonably busy, until the report could be finished. I wonder if we have not rather carelessly handed out the paper for a letter to be written when we had laryngitis and we felt unable to speak a word. Johnny began a letter to his uncle in Florida as follows: Dear Uncle The greatest crop of the United States is corn. and then went on with a fairly good essay on corn production, taken mostly from the geography reader. That letter, though perfect in English, is a pitiful failure as a letter. We must teach Johnny that a letter is news, and we must try to develop a sense of what is news in the mind of the person to whom we are writing. It is not impossible to show Johnny that in a letter to his grandmother an account of the football victory of his team would not be of interest, while the fact that old Rover had died, or that the baby had learned to take a step, would be of great interest to her. We may teach the children that sometimes the weather may be news. A cold wave that freezes the ponds and the water pipes is of interest to Aunt May, who is spending the winter in Florida. We may lead the children to see how trivial a bit of household news is of interest to one of the family who is far away. We have spent much time in teaching the rules of punctuation of a quotation within a quotation, but how often do any of us use that form? Would not a little of that time spent in studying the "Letters of Susan Hale" be worth more to a pupil from every point of view? One way that the writer has found helpful in teaching pupils to select news of interest to their friends who are ill, is this. Whenever a pupil in my room is ill, for more than ten consecutive sessions, the entire room is put to work writing to the sick child. We discuss in detail those things which we feel are of interest to the absent pupil. We decide what things are not quite kind to mention.. The fact that Ralph Snow has left town is allowable news. The fact that the sick child is losing new work which he will find it hard to make up, is not to be mentioned, on the ground that he might fret over it and thus be ill longer. This custom of sending notes from the class is always pleasing to mothers. The sick child is amused and happy while reading the letters, the mother has an opportunity to see the work of the class in spelling, punctuation and writing, and to compare her own child's ability with the others, and judge fairly of the ability of her own boy. Even the nurses in a city hospital have thanked me for sending letters to a little patient, saying that they themselves, were greatly entertained by the children's notes. In Flanders Field the poppies bloomed for all to see. The white crosses shone and the larks flew over where many men were lying. Yet only one saw the significance of these familiar things and wrote a poem that will live. If we can train the children first to see the meaning in the trivial things, if we can teach them to express that meaning in an individual forcible way, we shall do more to enrich their own lives and the lives of their friends. than we can do in any amount of time spent on routine exercises in punctuation and rules of grammar. The war has taught us many things, good and not so good, but we must learn from it the necessity of making the letters of the children vital, meaningful and individual, so that they may not fail in the days when they are for any reason separated from their homes to keep in close touch with the ones who wait at home. America's Historic Bells The peal of eight bronze bells which hang in the belfry of the Old North Church in Boston, have rung for every great event in the history of the United States. The bells were cast in 1744, in England, and are now the only ones. of their kind in this country. To proclaim the recent signing of the Peace Treaty, they rang for forty minutes. A Rainy Day Annebelle R, Bucknam Now we three do not care at all, We fear not the wind and storm; Stories I' for One day-one of the few balmy days of earliest springone of the lads of this school leaned idly against our hero (or is it heroine) because the stones were warm and he felt too spring-fevery to think of anything else to do, and in the same spirit of idleness he loosened some of the stones nearest him in the center of the pile; then, because there is a psychological law of repetition and least resistance, he loosened another and another and found by piling them above their fellows that he had made a cavity. This suggested getting into it, so he worked more industriously until he had made room for part of himself to hide; that awoke the primitive instinct of the cave man and he dug deeper with the idea of hiding away and startling his companions when they passed along the sidewalk; but shortly he was joined by others like himself and as they pulled and hauled, their circulation improved, ideas grew apace and the evolution of civilization was spread out for all who cared to read. "Let's have a cave!" they said on Monday, digging, heaving, with grunts and ouches. "Let's have it a hut," they decided the next week as their evoluting ancestors had decided ages ago. More business of the same kind. "Let's have more than one room," they said, compassing another age in a few years, perspiring and removing coats and sweaters. "Let's have a regular town," they said, again keeping up with their ambitions while the foundations began to widen out toward the road and on and on toward the next corner. "Let's make it into a FORT!" And the evolution, with all its irony, was complete, and they have reached the twentieth century. Well, a fort it was, and as the days went by a great flag waved from the branches of the trees that marked its Teachers beginnings; from the highest point stuck up the antennæ F you are a very sensible person, or a very orderly one, don't waste your time reading this, because it is the tale of an erratic stone-pile that set out on a career of adventure aided and abetted by two grown-ups and tempted by a hundred small ones. It started out to be an ordinary stone-pile with no particular ambitions and no great future before it, and it expected to do no more than to grow up into a sturdy foundation for some modest home and rear a commonplace family like the other nine hundred and ninety-nine of its kin; but fate has a way of giving a kick here and a shove there to even a stone-pile until it finds itself doing things it never dreamed of being allowed to do and having things happen to it that it never imagined would occur. There are a good many reasons why this tale might never have been written (and not many reasons why it should), for if this load of rocks had chanced to belong to some one other than a woman who had liked boys or had been dumped anywhere else than next to a school full of boys, or if the principal of that school had been anyone else than one who understood boys, this stone-pile might never have been able to generate all the happiness that it had been giving out for the months before vacation time came. But it was bought by a woman who had boys of her own and piled along the terrace between two big friendly maple trees next door to the First Ward School, and in that school abides a principal who is endowed with that heaven-born gift of knowing how and when to let boys alone- and so our stone-pile came into its own, fulfilling even more than its mission. That is as much as the greatest do. But to get on with my story: of the wireless with its opposite end carefully tied to two dead batteries hidden at the base of the parapet, where no crafty spy might hope to locate them." Wireless means code, you know (or have you forgotten), and code means a key and a key means a secret chamber in the rocks where only the trusted few may delve; and codes and keys and forts mean pass words. What do you think they chose? Sorties, dashing charges, brave rescues, bold reconnoiterings, over the top, the zero hour, sieges when ammunition ran so low that bold men crawled through dark passages and by devious ways through untold dangers to reach the base of supplies-all these became daily occurrences. During the darkest days of the war, when the enemies were most aggressive, the ammunition disappeared entirely, and it was only the understanding principal who opportunely discarded a handful of waste chalk at that particular and crucial moment, that saved the fate of the flag. And that recess the whole works became a munition factory and powder was pounded out by men and women alike. Sometimes there would be a lull at the front and one or more of the Fochs or Haigs would have a grand review or call his corps out for field maneuver, as one day when there rang out under the high windows these commands: "Shun! Pr'sent arms! March!" And a sea of nine broomstick guns started off across lots in all the pomp and circumstance of a volunteer army under the leadership of a field marshal. Heroes of many campaigns as the decorations on their inflated breasts showed to all who understood the insignia of the Land of "Let's play." To others, perhaps, that pasteboard disk was only a milk-bottle stopper, but to the initiated and its wearer it was the Legion of Honor; and maybe the stupid only saw a Black Cat hosiery tag flapping from the string about another's neck, but that was because such a one does not know how the Order of the Garter looks; that flat top off a can of peanut butter was not a can cover, at all; it was an American Distinguished Service Cross." "Left! Right! Left! Right!" they advanced, skirting all the dry places, but everyone splashing through all the puddles. "Look at Coxey's Army!" derided an urchin who had to go with the family laundry. "Aw, g'wan you Chinaman!" retaliated one from the ranks, giving his coup d'etat with neatness and dispatch, not only intimating his own emancipation from such slavery, but suggesting that the poor drudge would later have to turn the wringer. Bump-bump-bump, bump, bump- went the one lonesome little red drum up to the walk where the generalissimo made a sharp turn and took the opportunity to turn quickly to see if anyone had insurrected, for the commander was a little Italian and his heredity reminded him that one can never tell when a revolution may be brewing. Sure enough, there was one who had stepped out of line, and another about to follow. "Get int' line, you fella!" he yelled. "Sojer don't stop to scratch he neck." ""Taint my neck-it's my 'lastic!" retorted the revolutionist. "Shun!" yowled the lusty disciplinarian and order cnce more prevailed as he glanced along his line, with men from many lands: Irish, French, English, Italian, Dutch, Russian, German even. "What army is this?" called out a passer-by. "It's the League of Nations International Police Force," answered another man who had been watching them. "We ain't either," came from the army. "It's the Bolsheviki," put in a high school senior who happened along. "Freshie! Freshie!" was the stinging comeback from his small brother in the ranks, who knew where to touch with most effect. "Forward! March!" once more came the order, the column wheeled into line with a few shoves and punches from the teacher of tactics, the drum started up its single beat with the army still incognito. They reconnoitered the fort, which they seemed to recall, all at once, sent up a few spies, charged and without a casualty (unless you counted the loss of the commissary which was an all day sucker and the last end of a banana in its skin), landed once more inside their old redoubts. The man on the sidewalk must have been that kind of a boy himself, for he followed the army up to the very walls of their stone-pile and asked, starting down the line "What's your name? And yours? And yours?" Out came the names - Irish and French, English, Italian, Russian, Dutch, even German. "Are you the League of Nations?" he asked again. "Naw!" they told him, wishing he would hurry and let them go on with their play. "Are you the Bolsheviki?" laughing. "Naw!" "Well, what are you?" he asked again. They gave him the look that is the portion passed out to all feeble-minded, as they said, with one voice: "We're 'Mericans!" and then sounded the bugle for the resumption of the business of war. After the battles, to the rescue came the valiant amlance corps, with its stretcher bearers and first aid doctors and surgeons, although the surgeons were usually found only at the base hospital, and the few casualties were re-assembled and retrieved to the impromptu hospital so recently a fort and a inunition plant. This base hospital, in turn, was the scene of marvelous operations and miraculous recoveries. Arms were amputated and grew again in a most uncanny way. Heads and legs were blown off in the morning and were functioning normally again by dinner time. Generals carried away on stretchers were charging the enemy at the first call of the bugle at the following recess. It was done in the most modern, sanitary and efficient way, too, with offices, wards, heads and assistants, all correctly placed. And then, suddenly — why, no one can tell the pile was deserted by the opposing armies, by the surgeons and nurses, by the munition makers; and the girls of the school appeared looking over its possibilities and commencing its rehabilitation. The metamorphosis was made by the simple expedient of laying down a paper flour sack for a rug at the main entrance, and immediately the gore disappeared, the secret chambers became kitchen cabinets, the dead batteries found themselves to be rolling pins, the antennæ bent itself over obligingly into a line on which to hang the family washing, G. H. Q. altered to the laundry, and the arsenal was transformed into a nursery. But the flag remained what it was. Teas, dancing, social calls, housecleaning, disciplining of refractory dolls and amateur schools, shopping and epidemics of the "flu" replaced the war-like activities of the male population, and peace and quiet reigned. But at noon time when all the rest had gone, one little fellow, like somebody of old on the ruins of Carthage, or maybe like a more recent temporary conqueror on less ancient ruins, used to sit on the stone-pile and viewing the place where the peaceful arts prevailed, sighed for the days. of militarism. For, like this recent temporary conqueror, suggested previously, it was he who had loosened the first stone on that day when he had had nothing better to do. Day after day, and week after week since the searly days in March until vacation days came, these children lived and fought and dreamed in a world quite their own, changing, at will, in a way to make the wisest envy, the days of war or peace, of poverty or plenty as their fancy dictated; and all with the easy, nonchalant, magic words, "Let's play. There went by, the other day after school, two women who had never wanted to grow up, and they looked over this wonderful stone-pile that had spread itself over the terrace and roadside, but never beyond the limits that the teachers had set. They saw the place where the flag hung; the wireless; the part after part that had been added on, a little here and some more there; the room where one future interior decorator had plastered the stones with gaudy wall paper which he had confiscated from the house-cleaning supplies at home and brought to his Joan; the Persian (Gold Medal) rug; aye, even one of the secret subterranean chambers; and over the queer, crazy, rambling windings and walls, the spirit of the little inhabitants of this play-world city seemed to hover. The two women grinned when they caught each other waxing sentimental over it, but if their fairy godmothers had chanced along just then, it would not have been for riches or beauty or fame or power or wealth that they would have sighed; rather they would have asked that they might have back again—and keep it so long as they lived the priceless blessing of being able to -"Let's play "The almond blossoms light up the black boughs, I Teaching Phonetics Albion U. Jenkins N writing on the subject of phonetics I am not unaware of the arguments of those who have little faith in the value of phonetics to give the child power in reading. Those who are opposed to the teaching of phonetics generally cite instances where pupils have learned to read fluently without their aid. It is true that pupils can learn to read without systematic drill in phonetics, that most of us learned to read without studying phonetics and perhaps were able to read so young that we are scarcely able to remember when we began, and that many of us have taught beginning classes in reading by some method, as the A, B, C, word, or sentence method, not knowing anything about the teaching of reading with the help of phonetics, and obtained excellent results. These facts do not necessarily prove that we should teach reading without phonetics. It is quite as possible in reading, as in everything else, to swing from one extreme to the other, from no phonetics at all to an all-phonetic method and vice versa. Children learn to read by any Children learn to read by any method, whether it requires the systematic teaching of phonetics or not, and for this reason we must not become over enthusiastic about the particular advantages of any particular method; we should be sufficiently open-minded to select the strong points from every method. Likewise in this case we should be ready to accept whatever help the study of phonetics can give us. From my own experience and observation I am thoroughly convinced that reading can be better taught and greater progress made with the assistance of phonetics than without. All the newer method readers recognize the value of phonetics in teaching reading, only some go to the extreme and begin with phonetics, the dry bones of reading. These all-phonetic methods doubtless afford a fine crutch for weak teachers and those who want to have their pupils learn to say words with the least expenditure of energy on their part. This is the extreme of the no-phonetic method. It seems that we ought to strike a balance and make use of the assistance that phonetics can give. The newer methods that do this are the so-called story methods which include the all-phonetic methods just mentioned. Why should not children read something worth while from the beginning? Why should they not have their desire for reading aroused so that they will want to read the new story for what they can get out of it? Most pupils have a strong desire to read and will read if given the opportunity and material which has a peculiar meaning for them. Rhymes, fairy tales, fables and folk tales are the literature of childhood. Why not begin with such material? Children always love a story. They will listen to it as it is told by the teacher, dramatize it and read it with zest if it is presented in the right way. After a few weeks of school, children ought to have learned to read several good basic stories. Out of this material should come the phonetics which the child is to study. If the word, make, appears in the lesson, why not separate it into its two principal phonetic elements, m and ake, letting the pupils discover the sounds for themselves? Certainly no harm will be done. If the pupils have had sufficient ear-training they will readily give other words that contain the phonogram, ake, or the so-called ake family, as fake, bake, sake, lake, rake, cake, take, wake. These may be arranged on the board as follows, the teacher writing the words down as fast as they are given by the pupils: ake, and the various initial sounds, while the second acThe first plan develops familiarity with the phonogram, quaints the pupils with the words as wholes. In like manner many other phonograms can be taught. This can be made a very interesting exercise and in the hands of a skilful teacher will be enjoyed by the pupils. Before leaving such an exercise both concert and individual work should be required. As soon as pupils are familiar with a number of sounds, as in the above exercise, the sounds should be printed on be used for rapid drill work in some such manner as this: cards about six by eight inches in size. These cards should The teacher takes her position where every pupil in the class can easily see the cards. As soon as the phonetic is shown, it is pronounced softly by the class in concert. This concert drill serves as a review and freshens the names of the phonetics in the minds of those who have forgotten them. After all the sounds have been reviewed in concert, they should be reviewed individually. There are various ways of conducting individual drills, but one of the most efficient is to have pupils rise by rows, one row at a time. The first row stands and each pupil, beginning at the front, pronounces the sound shown and sits down immediately. When the whole row has thus been seated, the next row stands and proceeds in the same manner. It is a good plan to occasionally have a few pupils pronounce all the sounds without stopping. and are ready to use them in their reading work. But Pupils in this way become familiar with many sounds assistance must be given the child or he will make his applications in but very few instances. To develop power in blending is often a difficult task, but can be facilitated by writing the sound known by the children on the board as follows: The teacher points to various sounds forming a word while the pupils watch, as, fight. The children raise hands and a pupil is called upon to pronounce the word, fight. So s-ing, t-ill, fought, f-ight-ing, l-ight, ride, etc. This exercise gives the pupils the power to blend or put together the sounds they see. Exercises of this character should be given daily in the first two grades, frequently in the third grade, and often enough in the fourth grade so that the pupils do not forget them. New sounds may be added as taught and the exercise accordingly becomes more difficult for the grade and serves its purpose. As outlined above the daily exercise in the first three grades would be: I Review all familiar phonetics by aid of perception cards 1 Concert drill 2 Individual Drill |