triously applies himself to the tasks set by his instructor.

This general attitude and scheme of things carries over into evening-school work. Teachers are recruited largely from the day schools; the classes are held in day-school rooms; texts, courses of study, and methods of work are adapted from day-school practice. In addition, the pupils are foreign born, creatures whose queer, strange ways tend to call out in the teachers the instinctive feeling of superiority which as dayschool teachers they have even for the incapable or the immature.

PARTNERSHIP, THE BASIS OF TEACHING

The superstition that ability may be transmitted by instruction has its origin in the fact that all men continually profit by the exchange of experience. If my friend discovers a way to tie a knot which is better than the method I use, I can learn from him if he is willing to help me, and he can teach me if I wish to learn. Analysis of the process, however, shows that in life successful teaching has three essential characteristics: (1) It is a friendly service rendered by one individual to another on such a basis, and under such conditions, that each recognizes and respects the individuality and independence of the other; (2) the behavior of the two individuals is consciously dominated by a common purpose-the achievement by the learner of an immediate and well-defined result; (3) the teaching consists in setting the pupil an example of what to do, in

giving him a chance to try, and in aiding him to overcome his difficulties and mistakes.

To the superficial thinker conventional teaching may seem to fulfill all three of these conditions, but the fact of the matter is that it violates all three. The conventional teacher thinks of his class much as a surgeon thinks of a deformed body which he is to cut and mold into more perfect form, or as a captain thinks of his troops as by his command he arranges them in a given formation. In one sense the teacher is conscious that it is his duty to be of service to his pupils, but his conception of service is not that connoted by the word as used above. In his mind, the measure of his service is too likely to be the effort he expends, and not the resulting benefit. The whole tone of the relation between pupil and teacher is affected by this difference. In both day and evening-school work, this accounts for the almost complete ignoring of the needs and desires of the pupils and the adoption of mass methods of instruction.

It will be said by many that at least both pupil and teacher have a common purpose-that the immigrant's purpose is to learn English and the teacher's purpose is to teach it. Yet these two purposes are by no means identical, and this is one of the sources of trouble. However, the real difficulty is that to learn English is such a large, vague, general aim, and the ultimate achievement deferred so long, that neither teacher nor pupil has any conscious realization of the oneness of their aims, nor any sense of

accomplishment, both of which are essential to continued effort. To teach a class of foreign born English is an impersonal, routine job; but to help an immigrant to write a letter answering an advertisement which he wishes to answer and cannot, from lack of skill in writing, is to set up a common purpose. Moreover, in rendering a service so direct and personal, there is little danger of wrong relationships being established, or of consciousness of the personal nature of the service being lost.

Finally, there is the question of method. Nothing in the foregoing is meant to imply that thought, care, and preparation are of no value. On the contrary, the third condition of teaching postulated above calls for more careful preparation and greater elaboration of method than yet prevails. Conventional teaching commands the learner to perform certain acts in the order which seems to the teacher desirable. True teaching aims to assist the learner to act as the teacher acts. Now the most vital characteristic of the teacher's activity is that it is purposive and self-directed. When teacher and pupil really have a common purpose, and when the teacher really desires to serve the learner by helping him to achieve his purpose, then both strive by common consent for complete selfinitiated, self-directed activity on the part of the pupil.

The opportunity before America to-day is that of organizing educational work for immigrants on a true service basis. We have reason

to hope that great efforts in Americanization are about to be made. Existing facilities and methods are admittedly inefficient; desirable changes made now would not only increase the effectiveness of Americanization activities but would react favorably upon all educational work. It is worth while considering, therefore, what the organization of educational work on a service basis means in terms of practical adjustments.

The most important element in the new order would be recognition of the purpose of all educational work for immigrants as that of assisting them in their participation in American life, and helping them to make effective use of American institutions. Evening schools would be thought of as a city's educational service stations, to which any foreign born could go and obtain free information, explanations, training, or assistance of any kind of which they stood in need. There would be no required work, no grades, no courses of study. The teacher's business would not be to teach in the sense in which that term is ordinarily understood, but to assist; the work would be individual and determined wholly by the needs and desires of the pupils. The equipment would consist of maps, directories, newspapers, time-tables, pictures, books, and other articles which in their uses in the life of a city prove puzzling to foreign born.

Suppose that a non-English-speaking immigrant without friends planning to go from one city

to another attempts to buy a ticket of a station agent at a busy time. His reaction is likely to be one of confusion, loss of confidence, and an awakening appreciation of the desirability of learning English. Suppose now that this immigrant goes to one of the new type of evening schools. On entering, he is met and welcomed by the member of the school staff who is most able to gain his confidence and diagnose his needs. The immigrant himself knows only that he wants to learn to speak English, but by dint of questioning through a student interpreter the real basis of his desire is discovered. Accordingly, a railroad ticket, money, a time-table, map, cards with the names of the cities, signs common to railway stations, pictures of each stage of the journey-buying a ticket, taking a train, etc.—and other material essential to a dramatization of the scene, are taken from the school's supply-room, and with these the immigrant goes to a teacher of beginners. For the next half hour the pupil receives the undivided attention of the instructor; the whole process of buying a ticket is acted out; the immigrant's pronunciation of the names of the cities to and from which he wishes to go is improved, the words "ticket," "dollars," "time," etc., are comprehended in meaning and sound, and associated with the printed symbols. The pupil is then sent to a study hall to practice the use of his newly acquired words and sentences for some time by himself. Finally, the lesson is reviewed with a teacher once more, and the man sent