The teacher should guard against this, and assign to children such subjects as are within the field of childish observation. A little skill on his part will soon determine the question which kind of writing shall prevail in his school. The following specimens, both written with some skill, will illustrate the two kinds of writing alluded to. Both were written by pupils of the same age, twelve; one a boy, the other a girl. The subjects were assigned by the teacher. I need not say that the following was the writer's first attempt at composition, and that it is printed without alteration.
THE PAINS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE.
The joyful sailor embarks on board of his ship, the sails are
spread to catch the playful gale, swift as an arrow he cuts the
rolling wave. A few days thus sporting on the briny wave, when
suddenly the sky is overspread with clouds, the rain descends in
torrents, the sails are lowered, the gale begins, the vessel is
carried with great velocity, and the shrouds unable to support the
tottering mast, gives way to the furious tempest; the vessel is
drove among the rocks, is sprung aleak, the sailor works at the
pumps, till, faint and weary, is heard from below, six feet of
water in the hold, the boats are got ready, but before they are
into them, the vessel dashed against a reef of rocks, some in
despair throw themselves into the sea, others get on the rocks
without any clothes or provisions, and linger a few days, perhaps
weeks or months, living on shell fish or perhaps taken up by some
ship. Others get on pieces of the wreck, and perhaps be cast on
some foreign country, where perhaps he may be taken by the natives,
and sold into slavery where he never more returns.
In regard to the following specimen, it should be stated that when the subject was assigned, the pupil was directed to see how precisely she could imitate the language and conversation which two little children really lost in the woods would use. While writing, therefore, her mind was in pursuit of the natural, and the simple, not of the eloquent.
TWO CHILDREN LOST IN THE WOODS.
Emily. Look here! see how many berries I've got. I don't believe
you've got so many.
Charles. Yes, I'm sure I have. My basket's most full; and if we
hurry, we shall get ever so many before we go home. So pick away as
fast as you can, Emily.
Emily. There mine is full. Now we'll go and find some flowers for
mother. You know somebody told us there were some red ones, close
to that rock.
Charles. Well, so we will. We'll leave our baskets here, and come
back and get them.
Emily. But if we can't find our way back, what shall we do?
Charles. Poh! I can find the way back. I only want a quarter to
seven years old, and I shan't lose myself, I know.
Emily. Well! we've got flowers enough, and now I'm tired and want
to go home.
Charles. I don't, but if you are tired we'll go and find our
baskets.
Emily. Where do you think they are? We've been looking a great
while for them. I know we are lost, for when we went after the
flowers we only turned once, and coming back, we have turned three
times.
Charles. Have we? Well never mind, I guess we shall find them.
Emily. I'm afraid we shan't. Do let's run
Charles. Well so do. Oh, Emily! here's a brook, and I am sure we
didn't pass any brook, going.
Emily. Oh, dear! we must be lost. Hark! Charles! didn't you hear
that dreadful noise just now? Wasn't it a bear?
Charles. Poh! I should love to see a bear here. I guess if he
should come near me, I would give him one good slap that would make
him feel pretty bad. I could kill him at the first hit.
Emily. I should like to see you taking hold of a bear. Why didn't
you know bears were stronger than men? But only see how dark it
grows; we shan't see Ma' to-night, I'm afraid.
Charles. So am I: do let's run some more.
Emily. O Charles, do you believe we shall ever find the way out
of this dreadful long wood?
Charles. Let's scream, and see if somebody wont come.
Emily. Well, (screaming) Ma'! Ma'!
Charles. (screaming also) Pa'! Pa'!
Emily. Oh, dear! there's the sun setting. It will be dreadfully
dark by and by, won't it?
We have given enough for a specimen. The composition though faulty in many respects, illustrates the point we had in view.
7. INSINCERE CONFESSION. An assistant in a school informed the Principal that she had some difficulty in preserving order in a certain class, composed of small children. The Principal accordingly went into the class, and something like the following dialogue ensued.
"Your teacher informs me," said the Principal, "that there is not perfect order in this class. Now if you are satisfied that there has not been order, and wish to help me discover and correct the fault, we can do it very easily. If, on the other hand, you do not wish to co-operate with me, it will be a little more difficult for me to correct it, and I must take a different course. Now I wish to know, at the outset, whether you do or do not wish to help me."
A faint "Yes sir," was murmured through the class.
"I do not wish you to assist me, unless you really and honestly desire it yourselves; and if you undertake to do it, you must do it honestly. The first thing which will be necessary, will be an open and thorough exposure of all which has been wrong, and this you know will be unpleasant. But I will put the question to vote, by asking how many are willing that I should know, entirely and fully, all that they have done in this class, that has been wrong."
Very nearly all the hands were raised at once, promptly, and the others were gradually brought up, though with more or less of hesitation.
"Are you willing, not only to tell me yourselves what you have done, but also, in case any one has forgotten something which she has done, that others should tell me of it?"
The hands were all raised.
After obtaining thus from the class a distinct and universal expression of willingness that all the facts should be made known, the Principal called upon all those who had any thing to state, to raise their hands, and those who raised them, had opportunity to say what they wished. A great number of very trifling incidents were mentioned, such as could not have produced any difficulty in the class, and consequently could not have been the real instances of disorder alluded to. Or at least, it was evident if they were, that in the statement, they must have been so palliated and softened, that a really honest confession had not been made. This result might in such a case, have been expected. Such is human nature, that in nine cases out of ten, unless such a result had been particularly guarded against, it would have inevitably followed.
Not only will such a result follow in individual cases like this, but unless the teacher watches and guards against it, it will grow into a habit. I mean boys will get a sort of an idea that it is a fine thing to confess their faults, and by a show of humility and frankness will deceive their teacher, and perhaps themselves, by a sort of acknowledgement, which in fact exposes nothing of the guilt which the transgressor professes to expose. A great many cases occur, where teachers are pleased with the confession of faults, and scholars perceive it, and the latter get into the habit of coming to the teacher, when they have done something which they think may get them into difficulty, and make a sort of half confession, which, by bringing forward every palliating circumstance, and suppressing every thing of different character, keeps entirely out of view all the real guilt of the transgression. The criminal is praised by the teacher for the frankness and honesty of the confession, and his fault is freely forgiven. He goes away therefore well satisfied with himself, when in fact he has been only submitting to a little mortification, voluntarily, to avoid the danger of a greater; much in the same spirit with that which leads a man to receive the small-pox by inoculation, to avoid the danger of taking it in the natural way.