THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA THE COLLECTION OF NORTH CAROLINIANA PRESENTED BY Louis Round ViTilson C378 UK3 1915 UNIVERSJTYOF N,C, AT CHAPEL h 00039136675 FOR USE ONLY IN THE NORTH CAROLINA COLLECTION {'lb Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil http://www.archive.org/details/inauguraladdressOOgrah SCHOOL AND SOCIETY Volume I Saturday, May 1, 1915 Number 18 INAUGURAL ADDRESS AT THE UNI- VERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINAi Tins hiii:h fniumissioii I receive from the state in a spirit of deep and reverent con- fidence that does not springs from any thought of personal resource. If all of the wealth of treasured memory and hope that this institution represents were an individ- ual responsibility, it would be a burden too heavy to be borne ; but this great company of her sons, and her kindred, and her friends is testimony to the wide and loyal fellowship of learning that hedg&s her securely round about, and makes the indi- vidual heart strong enough for anything. Nor less rea.ssuring, as the standard passes to an untried hand, is the host of happy thoughts released by the presence of those who since the reopening gave themselves to her guidance in wisdom and complete devotion. To them to-day the institution pays the perfect tribute of her abundant life that they gave their strength to pro- mote: to her latest leader, the architect of her material rebuilding, whose w'ise and patient care inwrought into her standard the ideals of modern scholarship ; to his predecessor, whose sympathetic insight and statesman-like vision gave eloquent ex- pression to the voiceless aspiration of his people and made him their interpreter, both to themselves and to the nation ; to his pre- decessor, whose aggressive and brilliant leadership performed the essential service of making the university a popular right and privilege; to his predecessor — the his- 1 Delivered by Dr. Edward Kidder Graham, Uni- versity of Nortli Carolina, on April 21, 1915, on the occasion of his installation as president of the Uni- versity of North Carolina. torian of her heroic past, on whoso heart each syllal)le of her story Ls written — who lived through a period of bitterness with- out a hate, who endured poverty without a regret, achieved honor without pride, and who now so deeply sharas the eternal youth about him that age finds him with a heart so young and a life so full of affec- tion and praise that he is the witness of his own immortality. As the mind dwells on all of this exalted loyalty and unselfish devotion, once again persons, even the most heroic, fade into the background of the cause that evoked their heroisms, and our present ceremonial be- comes less the installation of an individual than a reverent and passionate dedication of all of us and all of the energies and powers of all of us to the civilization that the institution exists to serve. The life of this institution began with the life of the nation itself ; and the period since its rebirth in 1875 is the great pe- riod of national construction. In these forty years the nation was caught up in the giant's swing of its material release, and through the exploitation and development of its natural resources, through immi- gration, invention, industrial combina- tion, and commercial expansion constructed a civilization startling and wonderful in the things it fashioned, in the type of con- structive genius it elicited, in the new tyr- annies and ideals it evolved. In this nota- ble half-century, all America became, in the summarizing phrase of Mr. Wells, "one tremendous escape from ancient ob- sessions into activity and making." Its liberated energies drew from the wealth 614 SCHOOL AND SOCIETY [Vol. I, No. 18 of the continent material achievements and qualities of a sort unmatched in the history of civilization, through which it became, in its own brave acclaim of con- quest and creation, "triumphant democ- racy. ' ' The section that this institution served was only partly affected by this great expansion; but for it, too, the period is more than anything else a period of con- struction and making. In the last ten years of the existence of this institution before the war, the wealth of the south was about one half that of the whole country. In these ten years, its wealth in- creased one billion dollars more than that of New England and the Middle States combined. In 1875, when the university began its life over again, the whole south was bankrupt. In these forty years of material rebuild- ing it too has escaped from ancient ob- sessions not a few, and has won, in patience and fortitude under the austere discipline of a fierce, unequal struggle, not only the spiritual compensations of the struggle, but material liberation that is not a prom- ise but an immediate reality. And while it is under the thrill of the prosperity within its grasp, it is not primarily because in the past ten years its bank deposits and the capital invested in its manufactures have increased tenfold, that half of the na- tion's exports originate in its ports, that a world treasure hidden in its oil, gas, coal, iron, water-power and agriculture makes certain the fact that the next great expan- sion in national life will be here, and that here will be "the focusing point of the world's commerce" ; the summons that puts the eager and prophetic tone in southern life to-day is the consciousness that here under circumstances pregnant with happy destiny men will make once more the ex- periment of translating prosperity in terms of a great civilization. It is to leadership in this supreme adventure of democratic commonwealth building that the univer- sities of the south are called, and their real achievements depend upon the sure intelligence, sympathy and power, with which they perform their vital function, and make authoritative answer to the com- pelling question of the people as to what, if anything, in the way of clear guidance they have to offer, or must we look to another? An institution to express and minister to the highest aspirations of man was an im- mediate provision of the founders of the first states of the new republic. It was a part of the organic law of North Carolina, and the University of North Carolina was the first of the state universities to be chartered, followed quickly by those of Georgia and South Carolina. They were fostered, however, not by the whole peo- ple, but by groups of devoted men who sought to have them perform for the new country the noble service of the historic colleges of the old. It was the author of the Declaration of Independence who by faith saw in the new country a new civilization with a new philosophy, and who saw im- plicit in that a new institution for its reali- zation. Jefferson sought to create in the university of the state an institution that would not only through traditional culture values give to the state "legislators, and judges . . . and expound the principles and stnicture of government," but would also "harmonize and promote the inter- ests of agriculture, manufacture and com- merce, and by well formed views of polit- ical economy give free course to public industry." To the traditional models then existent he advocated an institution that would meet all the needs of all of the state, and to this end planned courses in manual training, engineering, agriculture, horti- culture, military training, veterinary sur- May 1, 1913] SCHOOL AND SOCIETY 615 pery, aiul for suhnols of coinnnTce, manu- faetnrinfj and tliploiiuR-y. and in tlie details of its administration ho planned to keep it flexil)le and responsive to the people's need. But in spite of this splendid proufram the state university could not come into its own in the south, nor for a hundred years be realized anywhere. The great American idea that Jefferson conceived had to wait until America itself could come into beinjr, find the mission of interpretative leader- ship passed to other hands, as the section which gave it birth lost contact with the spirit of national life. The evolution of the American state uni- versity during the past hundred years is the record of the gradual fulfilling of Jef- ferson's splendid vision. It represents the vital history of the contribution of nine- teenth-eenturj' America to the progress of mankind. The diffusion of wealth and knowledge, geographical and scientific dis- covery, new inventions and new ideals, not only put a power and a passion into mate- rial making and construction, but they fash- ioned institutions of training in whatever vocation the all-conquering hand of mate- rialism demanded, and these as they de- veloped were added to those that other civilizations had created. To the institu- tions that seek to express man's inner life and his relations to the past and the fixity of those relations, it added institutions that interpret his outer life, his relation to the present and his infinite capacity for prog- ress. It seeks to reassert for present civili- zation what past civilizations say to Amer- ica, together with what America has to say for itself. Through its colleges of liberal arts, pure and applied science, professional and technical schools it repeats the culture messages of the prophets of the nineteenth century : Arnold's message of sweetness and light; Huxley's message of the spirit of iiii|uiry, and Carlyle's me.s.sage of the spirit of work. In this grouping, then, of the college of culture, the college of research, the college of vocation into a eompartniental organiza- tion of efficient and specialized parts, sup- plemented by the idea of centering its energy and ingenuity in putting all of its resources directly at the service of all the people — is this the ultimate thought of this greatest institution of the modern state, and is its future to be concerned merely with perfecting these parts and further ex- tending their utility? Culture as learning, science as investiga- tion, and work as utility, each has an eternal life of its own, and to perfect each of them for the performance of its special work will always be an aim of the university. But this conception of its function as a university is neces- sarily partial and transitional. Tyndall, in his great Belfast address made in 1874, points out that it is not through science, nor through literature that human nature is made whole, but through a fusion of both. Through its attempt to make a new fusion of both with work during the great con- structive years of the past half-century, our civilization has caught the impulse of a new culture center. It is this that the state uni- versity seeks to express. It is more than an aggregate of parts. As a university it is a living unity, an organism at the heart of the living democratic state, interpreting its life, not by parts, or by a summary of parts, but wholly — fusing the functions of brain and heart and hand under the power of the immortal spirit of democracy as it moves in present American life to the complete realization of what men really want. The real measure of its power will be whether, discarding the irrelevancies of the past and present, it can focus, fuse and interpret their eternal verities and radiate them 616 SCHOOL AND SOCIETY [Vol. I, No. 18 from a new organic center of culture. This, let it tentatively define as achievement touched bj' fine feeling — as truth alive and at work in the world of men and things. Such new centers are the vital source of civilization, and the propulsive power of progress. Every now and then in human history men make a synthesis of their ideals, giving redirection and increased pro- jection to their energies on new and higher levels of achievement. Truly great creative periods thus result from the liberation of men through new revelations of deeper and richer values in their new relations. Classical learning gave Europe such a period in the Renaissance; science gave the modem world such a period, each ex- pressing itself through a great educational institution, typifying the union of past ideals into a new center of reality. The American state university of the twentieth century is an organism of the productive state, striving to express in tangible real- ities the aspirations of present democracy, as it adjusts itself to the liberations of a new humanism. The evolution of the democratic state in the past hundred years as an attempt to actualize in human society the principles of liberty, equality and brotherhood is parallel to that of the state university. Traditional ideals and institutions it, too, inherited that it could not wilfully dis- card; new ideals it, too, aspired to that it could not immediately achieve. Its conti- nental task of "construction and making" made the production of material values its necessary concern. The incarnation of the great anti-feudal power of commerce was inevitable, not only to break the bonds of the "ancient obsessions," but to open through its material might railways, steam- ship lines, canals, telegraph and telephone systems, good roads, schoolhouses and li- braries, as avenues to liberation. In its de- velopment it created its own abnormal standards and tyrannies, and became so obsessed with material freedom that equal- ity seemed a contradiction and cooperation the vision of a dreamer. Its life was in- dividualistic, compartmental, and fiercely competitive. Its ideal was efficiency; its criterion, dividends; but present democ- racy, if it has not yet focused the light to the new center toward which it moves, is steadily illumined by it. Democracy has come to mean more than an aggregate of vocations, grouped for the purpose of ma- terial exploitation. The whole effort of the productive state is to unify its life, not by casting out material good, but by inter- preting and using it in its symmetrical up- building. Great progress toward making the state a cooperative organism in the equal dis- tribution of all the elements of life to all according to their capacity, has been made in the evolution of business itself. "Busi- ness is business" is no longer its ultimate thought. In perfecting its parts for effi- ciency it discovered, not merely the value of cooperation in the individual business, but in the larger aggregates of material expansion that the cooperation of manufac- tures, commerce and agriculture is neces- sary to prosperity, and that the weakness of one is the weakness of all. It has come to see in addition to this extensive unity, an intensive unity in its dependence on knowledge, science and ethics; and more deeply still that the organic center of all of its actions and interactions for libera- ting its efficiency and its life to a higher level of productivity is in raising the pro- ductivity of all of the men engaged in it by liberating all of their wholesome facul- ties. Scientific management, which will in the present century mark as great prog- ress in production as the introduction of machinery did in the past century, shifts May 1, ]9I5] SCHOOL AND SOCIETY 617 the main emphasis of production from tho iiuifhine to the worker. The new freedom in whatever form — in business, polities, re- liiiion and philosophy — is a manifestation (if the effort of democracy to establish the supremacy of human values, and so to make of itself the creative, spiritual or- ^'anism it must be. From this new center of constructive cooperation, it is already in its effort to abolish ignorance, poverty, dis- ease and crime, sendinp: confident premon- itions of fuller life and new and braver reconstructions. The productive demo- cratic state would make of itself an organ- ism, by making its eompartmental life a I'.nion of all of its parts, as the nation made of the states a territorial union. It would perfect the parts through the stronger, fuller life of the whole ; it would lose none of the good of individual initiative and material success, but would translate it all into the whole term of higher human values. It cries with the creative joy of .spent life renewed : All good things are ours, Nor soul helps flesh more Than flesh helps soul. The state university is the instrument of democracy for realizing all of these high and healthful aspirations of the state. Creating and procreated by the .state it has no immediate part, however, in a spe- cific social program. Its service is deeper and more pervasive. It sees its problem as positive, not negative ; as one of funda- mental health, not of superficial disease. It looks on the state as a producer; not as a policeman. It is not so much concerned with doing a certain set of things, as in- fusing the way of doing all things with a certain ideal. Not by spasmodic reform, nor by sentiment, nor by the expiations of philanthropy ; but by understanding, criticism, research and applied knowledge it would reveal the unitv of the channels through which life flows, and minister to the purification of its currents. It would conceive the present state and all of its jiractical problems as the field of its serv- ice, but it would free the term service from the narrowing construction of immediate jiractise. The whole function of education is to make straight and clear the way for the liberation of the spirit of men from the tyranny of place and time, not by running away from the world, but by mastering it. The univer.sity would hold to the truth of practical education that no knowledge is worth while that 's not related to the jiresent life of man; it would reject it.s error that only knowledge of nearby things has such a relation ; it would hold to the truth of classical education (I quote) that "things high and far away often bestow best control over things that are detailed and near," and reject its error of conclud- ing that because certain things are high and distant they must passess that power. It would emphasise the fact that research and classical culture rightly interpreted are as deeply and completely service as any vocational service; but it would consider their service too precious to be confined in cloisters and .sutficiently robust to inhabit the walks of men. The whole value of university extension depends upon the va- lidity' of the purity and power of the spirit of the truth from which it is derived. Ex- tension it would interpret, not as thinly stretching out its resources to the state boundaries for the purposes of protective popularity, or as carrying down to those without the castle gates broken bits of learning; but as the radiating power of a new passion, cariying in natural circula- tion the unified culture of the race to all parts of the body politic. It would inter- pret its service, not as sacrifice ; but as life, the normal functioning of life as fniitful 618 SCHOOL AND SOCIETY [Vol. I, No. 18 and fnndamental as the relation between the vine and the branches. It is this organic relation to the demo- cratic state that puts the southern state university at the vital center of the state's formative material prosperity. "What are southern universities doing," asks a great industrial leader, "to give economic independence to southern industry?" It is a fair challenge, and the state univer- sity joyfully acknowledges its obligation fully to meet it. It is a part of the busi- ness of laboratories to function in the pi*o- ductive state by solving the problems of embarrassed industry. Science has so faithfully performed this obligation that the main arch of modern industry rests on the laboratory. Applied science no less truly rests on pure science and the libera- ting currents of the spirit of inquiry and investigation that is the vital spark of mod- ern life. The first great step in the in- dependence of southern industry will be the realization of its dependence. Our whole electrical power liberation, signifi- cant now in achievement and thrilling in prophecy, is the cooperation of a hundred forces, the most important of which is the vital force of unknown investigators whose labor and spirit opened the current to the wheels of productive industry. Says Walter Bagehot: If it had not been for quiet people who sat still and studied the sections of the cone, if other quiet people had not sat still and worked out the doc- trine of chances . . . ; if star gazers had not watched long and carefully the motions of the heavenly bodies, our modern astronomy would have been impossible, and without our astronomy our ships, our colonies, our seamen, and all that makes modern life could not have existed. The aniline dye industry of Germany is not the product of the clever alchemy of a laboratory merely. It is the logical result of a great state replacing through its uni- versity "by intellectual forces the physical forces lost by war." It is the result, too, of the fusion with this of industrial states- manship; the result of a mastery of in- dustry's extensive and intensive relations in economic law, foreign commerce, sci- ence and diplomacy. Says the Secretary of Commerce: Foreign trade begins inside a man 's head, in the shape of knowledge of the country to which he would sell — its customs, finances, language, weights, measures, and business methods. The state university would make clear the fact that in its relation to southern in- dustry, while it regards every practical need as an opportunity for service, its still larger service is in making clear the re- lations that radiate from industry in con- centric fields of knowledge that either en- slave it if they are not understood, or lib- erate it in ever increasing life and power if they are understood. And their chief liberation is the setting free of the master of industry himself. All industry that is worthy of absorbing a man's life is in the grasp of the world relations and under the grim test of world standards. Any work that does evoke a man's full facul- ties in mastering its relations is worthy work. So it is the function of the univer- sity, not merely to bring its resources to bear in solving practical problems of in- dustry and discovering through its inner relations the field of southern industry as a field of statesmanship, but in discovering thereby the further truth that in perfect- ing its relations it becomes a liberal voca- tion in saving the man and all of his higher faculties, not from business, but through business. Salvation will come there or no- where. The question for southern industry is whether in the world opportunity that opens ahead, it will attempt the futile ex- periment of becoming big through super- ficial and selfish efficiency, or whether through a mastery of all of its relations, Mat 3, ]9]5] SCHOOL AND SOCIETY 619 while becoming big it will also become great. One of the belatctl visions of southern business and eilucational statesmanship is that we can have here no full prosperity or civilization unless agriculture is maile truly productive. In our individualistic, polit- ical and economic life we have flattered it, ignored it, or exploited it. We have lately awakened to the fact that it is an almost dead center at the heart of southern prog- ress, and we have had the vision that it is our function to cooperate with it fully and wholly. It is inevitable that society's need will make farming efficient as a business. In bringing this about one of two processes is possible: that it be developed as other great businesses are, with routine skilled labor under captains of industry; or that it be made a liberal human vocation, each farm home the center of a whole and whole- some life, and perfecting the development of a definite and complete civilization. What will make it realize its higher destiny will not be a limited view of it as a manual vocation. It is a manual vocation, and as such should be trained to the highest hu- man efficiency as a producer of wealth. It must be more deeply interpreted, however, if it is to attract and hold men of energy and initiative. In its relation to nature, to the applied sciences, to economics, and the social sciences agriculture has rela- tions that put it on the full current of the forces that make for human cultiire through right relations to it as work by evoking, not only prosperity from the soil, but the higher faculties of the man himself — ma- king of the cropper, the farmer; and of the farmer, man-on-the-farm. The reality of the state university's power to liberate the faculties and aspira- tions of the workers in the productive state depends on the force of that power as generated in it as an association of teach- ers and students, given wholly to the pur- suit of truth and free from the distractions of making a living. The heart of this as.so- ciation, the college of liberal arts and sci- ences, has as its mission now as always the revelation of the full meaning of life in its broad and general relations, and to fix in the heart of its youth a point of outlook on the field of human endeavor from which to see it clearly and to see it whole. It fears no criticism based on an interpretation of its mission as "impractical"; but it does regard as fatal any failure to evoke the best powers of its own student body. Presi- dent Wilson has spoken of present under- graduate life as "a non-conducting me- dium" of intellectual discipline, and Presi- dent Pritchett sums up all possible con- demnation when he says that it is an organ- ization where conditions within are such that success in the things for which it stands no longer appeals to those within it. Failure to appeal may not be laid to the curriculum, nor to the spirit of youth, nor to the spirit of the age. "The things for which it stands" in the mastery of fact, the mastery of method, and in spiritual tone will come not because they are latent in Greek or in physics; but because they are made luminous there through a revelation of the broad and liberal relations of these studies to the life curiosities of the student. A course in Greek may be as narrowing and as blighting to a thirsty spirit as a dissertation in medieval theology' ; a liberal arts curriculum at its conclusion may be in the mind of the young graduate not more impressively unified and tangible than the wreckage of a once passionate conte.st be- tween literature and science. The line of memory and repetition is the line of least resistance to student and teacher as it is in the dead routine of everj' field of effort ; but the liberal arts course is not a mechan- ical contrivance for standardizing the crude 620 SCHOOL AND SOCIETY [Vol. I, No. 18 material fed to it. It is the life history of the human spirit and its wonderful adven- tures in the world, unrolled to the eye of aspiring youth setting out on its wonder- ful adventure. For this great business of touching the imagination and stirring the soul to original activity, no formulas nor techniqiie, however conscientious, will serve. For liberal training to make its connec- tions, eager sympathetic interpretation is necessary, "with thought like an edge of steel and desire like a flame." From the center of every subject runs the vital cur- rent of its inner meaning, and from all sub- jects in the curriculum in converging lines to the heart of our present civilization and its culture message. Intellectual discipline, special insights, and "success in the thing for which it stands" will appeal to those within, not by means of new subjects added with the thought of gaining interest nor by repeating the assertion that the old siib- jeets ought to have cultural appeal; but by having the thing for which it stands radi- antly and constantlj^ clear to itself and the touchstone of its activities. It is the incar- nation in the individual of the spirit of the institution as it focuses and reflects the in- most message of the age. This is the source of the student's special insights, his scent for reality, and their fruitage is that pro- ductive thinking that is the supreme test of the college. The association of teacher and student in the professional schools must have the same unifying point of view. Widely sepa- rated as the professional schools are in sub- ject-matter, they have not only a common scientific method and spirit in their pur- suit, but a common culture center in their larger human relations. Arnold conceived of the professional training given at Cor- nell in the making of engineers and archi- tects as an illustration of what culture is not. The criterion of the American state university is not a matter of the vocation; but whether in making the student efficient in his vocation it has focused through his studies its own inner light so as to liberal- ize him as a member of democratic society. It is not the function of the university to make a man clever in his profession merely. That is a comparatively easy and negligible university task. It is also to make vivid to him through his profession his deeper rela- tions — not merely proficiency in making a good living, but productivity in living a whole life. The professions of law, medi- cine, the ministry, journalism, commerce, and the rest are essential to the upbuilding of a democratic commonwealth; but they must be interpreted, not as adventures in selfish advancement: but as enterprises in constructive statesmanship, liberating both, the state and the man. It is the function of the university, not only to train men in the technique of law, but to lift them to a higher level of achievement by making them living epistles of social justice ; not only to make clever practitioners of medicine, but to lift them into conservators of the public health; not merely to train teachers in the facts and the methods of education, but to fire them with the conviction that they are the productive creators of a new civiliza- tion. It recognizes no antagonist in this gen- eral business but ignorance. Ignorance it conceives as the unpardonable sin of a democracy and on it in every form it would wage relentless warfare. To this end it would unify and coordinate its whole sys- tem of public education in a spiritual union of elementary schools and secondary schools, of agricultural and mechanical and normal colleges, of private and denominational schools and colleges, all as a means to the end of the great commonwealth for which men have dreamed and died but scarcely dared to hope. Fully conscious of the con- May 1, 1915] SCHOOL AND SOCIETY 621 fusions of prcjiulicp ami the bliiKl im- roason of self-intorest and srived, it is even more conscious of the curative powers of the democratic state and its indomitable purpose to be wholly free. So it would en- list all vocations and all professions in a comprehensive, state-wide projiram of achieving as a practical reality Burke's conception of the state as "a partnership in all science, a partnership in all art. a part- nership in every virtue and in all perfec- tion, and since such a partnership can not be attained in one generation, a partner- ship between all those who are living, and those who are dead, and those who are yet unborn." This is the understanding of the mean- ing of life which represents the highest level to which men of our civilization have attained — the highest good at which the state aims. The religious perception of our time in its widest application is the con- sciousness that our well-being, both mate- rial and spiritual, lies in intelligent coop- eration. The state university in its sym- pathetic study of relations that reconcile the divisions of society, while not concerned with differences in religious organization is inevitably and profoundly concerned with religion itself. All of its study of men and things leads through the cooperating chan- nels that connect them beyond the sources of immediate life to the one great unity that binds all together. The human mind, what- ever its achievement, in whatever fields of endeavor, "with the yearning of a pilgrim for its home, will still turn to the mystery from which it emerged, seeking to give unity to work and thought and faith." The state university in its passionate effort to fashion this unity into a commonwealth of truly noble proportions of work and worth and worship, reverently prays as it follows the star of its faith: "Oh God. I think Thy thoughts after Thee." Such is the covenant of our immortal iiiiither "with those who are living and those who are dead and those who are yet unborn," "building herself from im- memorial time as each generation kneels and fights and fades." She will hold se- cure her priceless heritage from her elder sons as the pledge of the faith she keeps; and she will cherish the passionate loyalty of her latest issue with the sacred pride that only a mother knows; she will seek guidance above the confusion of voices that cry out paths of duty around her, in the experience of the great of her kind the world over; but she will not, in self-con- templation and imitation, lose her own creative power and that original genius that alone gives her value in the world. As the alma mater of the living state and all of its higher aspirations she would draw from it the strength that is as the strength of its everlasting hills and give answer in terms of whole and wholasome life as fresh as the winds of the world that draw new life from its pine-clad plains. Eager, sympathetic, unafraid and with the understanding heart "she standeth on the top of the high places, by the way in the places of the path; she crieth out at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doore: 'Unto you, men, I call and my voice is to the sons of men.' " Edw.\rd Kidder Graham HIGH SCHOOLS— NEW AND OLD' The American high school is e.xperienc- ing "growing pains." We are dissatisfied with the old type of high school, and we are vaguely feeling our way towards a new type. We are driven to do this, for one thing, because of the very magnitude of public secondary education in this coun- try. Our public high schools have over a 1 Notes of an address given by Commissioner David Snedden, of Massachusetts, before the Phil- adelphia High School Teachers ' Association, March 20, 1915. 622 SCHOOL AND SOCIETY [Vol. I, No. 18 million pupils in constant attendance. They cost the people of America enough money every year to build four battleships. They are receiving, on the whole, the choicest of our youth — choicest, that is, from the standpoint of heredity, picked ability, good home environment, favorable prospects. These high schools have the re- sponsibility of making out of our youths not only citizens and cultivated men and women, but leading citizens and men and women so cultivated that their example shall be contagious. Very few careful stu- dents of secondary education believe that our high schools, as to-day constituted, in reality do as much as they should towards the making of good citizens and cultivated men and women. They receive their boys and girls from cultivated surroundings, where a strong predisposition towards good citizenship already exists. The schools in- deed effect improvements in their pupils, but rarely in proportion to the outlay of time and money invested. Many of us con- stantly repeat, until we accept almost as a truism, the statement that what is taught in the high school is taught mainly because of tradition — sometimes as held by the pre- possessions of teachers, more frequently as defined by college entrance requirements. We like to blame the system of college en- trance requirements, but, as a matter of fact, without the concrete aims set by them few high-school teachers would know what to do with their own time or that of their pupils. It is college entrance require- ments that most serve to give definiteness to contemporary high-school work. But there is a new high school in the ma- king. It will eventually be the outgrowth of our modern knowledge of social economy. It will take some account of the psychology of the adolescent — a subject as to which many high school and college educators are pleased to remain oblivious. Before we shall have realized the new high school, however, it will be necessary to have solved a large number of problems, some of which I think are in process of being defined and analyzed to-day. In order to set forth some of my conceptions as to these prob- lems, a few contrasts between the old high school, as I think it has been, and the new high school, as I think I see it in formative process, may be of interest. I. The old high school had immediate aims. It aimed to teach what the text-book exhibited or what the college entrance re- quirement plan suggested. The teacher was dealing with a definite body of organ- ized knowledge, as to the ultimate useful- ness of which he had very little con- ception, although he had much faith that, somehow or somewhere, it would prove worth while. It was the immediate aim of the old high school, among other things, that the pupil learning algebra should pass in that subject with a "high per cent.," and that pupils sent to college should not fail in the entrance examinations. II. The old high school also had what it alleged to be general or ultimate aims. It expressed these by vague "omnibus" phrases. For example, it claimed to seek as final goals the disciplined mind, the cultivated individual, the socially efficient person, or the man or woman qualified for self-direction, possessed of good char- acter, predisposed towards good citizen- ship, and enriched as to personal culture, and the like. In reality the production of these qualities has never been, in the true sense, the aim of the high school. The schools have had aspirations towards them, instead. These have not been aims, because an aim presupposes some comprehension of the stages that must be passed through towards its realization. An aim also pre- supposes some possibility of testing the ex- tent to which it is realized by any partie-