without such help.  As soon as a child can read well, and work a fair number of sums on paper, he is considered fit for promotion, and the question of whether he understands the method of working such sums, is not considered so important as accuracy and quickness.  The test of so-called intelligence for promotion is reading and number, but it is really the test of convenience, so that large numbers of children may be taught together and brought, against the laws of nature, to a uniform standard.

This poison of the promotion and uniformity test works down through the Infant School:  it can be seen when the babies are diverted from their natural activities to learn reading, or when they are “examined”:  it can be seen when a teacher yields up her “bright” children to fill a few empty desks, it can be seen in the grind at reading and formal arithmetic of the children under six, when weary and useless hours are spent in working against nature, and precious time is wasted that will never come back.  Yet we say we believe that “Children have their youth that they may play,” and that “Play is the purest, most spiritual activity of man at this stage” [childhood].

The lack of any clear aim shows itself in the fluid nature of the term “results”; to some teachers it signifies readiness for promotion, or a piece of work that presents a satisfactory external appearance, such as good writing, neat handwork, an orderly game, fluent reading.  To others it means something deeper, which they discover in some chance remark of a child’s that marks the growth of the spirit, or the awakening of the interest of a child whose development is late, or the quickened power of a child to express; or evidence of independent thought and the power to use it, in some piece of handwork, or appreciation of music or literature.  According to the meaning attached to the term “results” so the method of the teacher must vary; but one gets the general impression that in this respect matters are in a transitional state; the first kind of teacher is always a little uncertain of her ground and a little fearful that she is not quite “up-to-date,” while the second class of teacher is sometimes a little timid, and not quite sure that she is prepared to account for the rather subtle and intangible outcome of her work.

The same transitional character holds in the case of discipline:  while what is known as “military” discipline still prevails in many schools, there are a very fair number with whom the grip has relaxed; but it is a courageous teacher that will admit the term “free discipline” which has nearly as bad a reputation as “free thought” used to have, and few are prepared to go all the way.  Probably the reason lies in the vagueness of the meaning of the term, and the fact that its value is not clearly realised because it is not clearly understood.  Teachers have not faced the question squarely:  “What am I aiming at in promoting free discipline.”