No change that has come to later times has been more radical than that in our schools. The discipline, management, method of instruction and general spirit of the school have all undergone a thorough transformation. In the early days, the old blue-back speller was a sine qua non in the elementary schools. Its columns and battalions of words, ranging from the least spellable words to those that are octosyllabic and even beyond, all of which had to be learned by rote, made many an excellent speller of the English. The modern method of acquiring ability to spell may be superior, but one who ever mastered the old blue-back was never known to be an indifferent speller. Consigned to the limbo of the junk heap, the blue-back may be, but to master it was to become the possessor of most of the words in common use, and more besides.

In former days the location of a country school was selected with reference to the largest possible patronage, while many boys and girls were forced to trudge the distance of several miles each morning to attend, and return the same distance home every afternoon. The buckets with curved wire handles would contain the dinners of the children of a given family. School periods extended from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, with three brief intervals of recess during the day. For a well-regulated school, the furniture comprised plain, unpainted seats, none too comfortable, and unpainted desks. Where not so well regulated the seats were of split logs, backless, with peg supporters, and no desks, save that of the teacher, which was used at different times by a given class of students in taking writing lessons from the teacher.

This teacher sat on a platform, which was slightly raised, in order to give him complete oversight of each pupil. Within his desk were securely kept the sinews of discipline in the form of a number of well-seasoned hickories, flexible, tough, and just long enough for faithful execution. These were a source of terror to all alike, for under the nature of the discipline there were no immunes in view of certain infractions.

The rules of discipline were generally harsh, hard and drastic, the very essence of the unreasonable. A pupil failing to spell a given number of words, or to give a given number of correct answers, was straightway drubbed. This was done in a most mechanical way, as the machinery of discipline must, of course, run regularly. Nothing was said, but the teacher would administer the flogging, and go straight on with his other work. The fear of punishment, so far from acting as a stimulus, was a barbarous hindrance. Study was not pursued so much as a pleasure, as it was from fear of punishment.

A “big boy,” one past sixteen generally, was given the alternative of a flogging in the presence of the school, or of downright dismissal. No respect was had for the difference between a laborious, earnest student, who might be slow of acquisition, and one who was bright and quick, though the former might be the solider of the two, and often was. School was taught according to certain arbitrary rules and not according to the principle of common sense. Most schools were therefore regarded by pupils as terrors, and not as places of mental pleasure. A “tight” teacher, as the rigid disciplinarian was called, was much in demand. Many a pedagogue would lose an opportunity to procure a school because he was “loose,” or, as we would say nowadays, because he was reasonable, and not a ringmaster with his whip. No higher commendation was there than that one would flog even the largest boys. In consequence of this condition in the early school, the teacher was held in almost universal awe, with no touch of congeniality with any pupil.

In all recitations save those of reading and spelling, pupils would sit. The spelling classes were somewhat graded, and, in reciting, would stand in a line facing the teacher, who would “give out” the words to be spelled. Each syllable had not only to be spelled and articulated, but in spelling, each preceding syllable was pronounced, even to the close of the word. If, for instance, the word notoriety was given, the pupil would spell n-o, no, t-o, noto, r-i, notori, e, notorie, t-y, te, notoriety. When it would come to spelling long words, they would be rattled off with a volubility that was often amazing. It was interesting to hear words like incombustibility and honorificabilitudinity spelled after this fashion. As with a vocal fusillade, the pupil would clatter off long words, building each up as he would proceed, the teacher would stand with his head slightly careened to hear it properly done. Whatever other effect such exercise had, it gave clearness of articulation. If a word was misspelled, it was given to the next student with a “Next!” from the teacher, and if successfully spelled by the one next below him, he would “turn down” the one who failed, or, in other words, take his place in the line, sending the one who failed nearer toward the foot of the class. Like trembling culprits the pupils would thus stand throughout the recitation, and everyone who had missed spelling a given number of words, walked mechanically up to the teacher and took his drubbing. Every class of spellers was only a body of culprits on trial.

One of the choice pranks of those early days was that of “turning the teacher out.” When a holiday was desired, and had been previously declined, a revolt was almost sure to follow. A secret conclave of “the big boys” was held, a mutiny was hatched, a fearless ringleader was chosen, the plans were laid, and the time of the real issue awaited. On the morning of the desired holiday, the young conspirators would reach the school an hour or two in advance, barricade every door and window so that none could enter, and quietly await the coming of the teacher. He would usually demand that the house be opened, when the leader would inform him that it would be done solely on condition that he would give them a holiday.

The teacher’s ingenuity, tact, or physical strength was often sorely taxed by a juncture like this. It was not an easy thing to handle a half dozen or more determined boys just emerging into manhood, and those whose quiet grudge prompted a desire for a tilt, at any rate, and the teacher must either yield and thus lose his grip thereafter, or take the chance of a rough and tumble with the odds against him. The usual method of settlement was to sound a truce, and compromise on some satisfactory basis. One advantage always lay on the side of the teacher—no matter how stern or severe his method of adjustment in quelling the rebellion, he would have the moral reinforcement of the parents, but it was an advantage that might prove more than a forlorn hope, if he should attack a body of muscular country boys.

Happily, those days are gone, with some slight advantages, perhaps, over some of the present methods, but with immensely more disadvantages. At least, the tyranny and brutality of the olden days have given place to common sense.