Noon dismissal was due when I went into the corridor.  Lines are forbidden in that school.  At the stroke of the bell, the classroom doors burst open and bedlam was let loose.  I had anticipated what was coming, and hurriedly betook myself to an alcove.  I saw more spontaneity in two minutes than I had ever seen before in my life.  Some boys tore through the corridors at breakneck speed and down the stairways, three steps at a time.  Others sauntered along, realizing various propensities by pushing and shoving each other, snatching caps out of others’ hands, slapping each other over the head with books, and various other expressions of exuberant spirits.  One group stopped in front of my alcove, and showed commendable curiosity about the visitor in their midst.  After exhausting his static possibilities, they tempted him to dynamic reaction by making faces; but this proving to be of no avail, they went on their way,—­in the hope, doubtless, of realizing themselves elsewhere.

I left that school with a fairly firm conviction that I had seen the most advanced notions of educational theory worked out to a logical conclusion.  There was nothing halfway about it.  There was no apology offered for anything that happened.  It was all fair and square and open and aboveboard.  To be sure, the pupils were, to my prejudiced mind, in a condition approaching anarchy, but I could not deny the spontaneity, nor could I deny self-activity, nor could I deny self-realization.  These principles were evidently operating without let or hindrance.

Before leaving the school, I took occasion to inquire concerning the effect of such a system upon the teachers.  I led up to it by asking the principal if there were any nervous or anaemic children in his school.  “Not one,” he replied enthusiastically; “our system eliminates them.”  “But how about the teachers?” I ventured to remark, having in mind the image of a distracted young woman whom I had seen attempting to reduce forty little ruffians to some semblance of law and order through moral suasion.  If I judged conditions correctly, that woman was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  My guide became confidential when I made this inquiry.  “To tell the truth,” he whispered, “the system is mighty hard on the women.”

A few years ago I had the privilege of visiting a high school which was operated upon this same principle.  I visited in that school some classes that were taught by men and women, whom I should number among the most expert teachers that I have ever seen.  The instruction that these men and women were giving was as clear and lucid as one could desire.  And yet, in spite of that excellent instruction, pupils read newspapers, prepared other lessons, or read books during the recitations, and did all this openly and unreproved.  They responded to their instructors with shameless insolence.  Young ladies of sixteen and seventeen coming from cultured homes were permitted in this school to pull