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how it may be rendered free from danger. If the board of health or the health ollicer in the community in which you live should not pay proper attention to the isolation of contagious diseases and disinfection after the occurrence, that does not excuse the attending physician for any neglect of the minutest detail in these matters. In limiting the spread of consumption the attending physician can accomplish far more in instructing the patient how to prevent its communication to others than can be done by the public health officials. Regarding personal hygiene, such, for example, as the evils of over-eating and over-working, which are so common at present, the people can only be educated by their private physicians. Indeed, as educators of the people in matters concerning the public health of the community, as well as the health of the individual, the physician and the public press are the most potent factors. I sincerely trust you will not regard dosing your patients as your only duty and that you will pay due attention to the prevention of disease.
Time does not permit me to address any words especially to the graduates in pharmacy and to the graduates of the school of nursing. No one appreciates more than the physician what valuable allies he has in the nurse and the skilled pharmacist. Indeed, it often happens that the nurse in an emergency or by faithful devotion to duty, contributes more than the doctor to saving the life of the patient. Perhaps the highest compliment that could be paid to the pharmacist in recognition of the dignity and efficiency of his profession is seen in the way most of the State examining boards of this country have within the past decade required all candidates for registration to be graduates of a school of pharmacy.
It does not matter to the true soldier in what branch of the service he fights; he is content to know that he is performing his duty to the best of his ability wherever he may be stationed. You are all today enlisting in a noble cause and I may say one final word of advice which will apply to all, wherever you may serve: Be in earnest in your work and always, under all circumstances, do your full duty. Be true to your profession; be true to your alma mater; be true to the community and State in which you live, and
“This above all, to thine own self be true,
THE SUMMER SCHOOL MOVEMENT.
[An address delivered at the opening of the Summer Session of 1900 by Dr. Geo. P. Garrison.]
The summer school is now well established in America, and is doubtless a permanent institution. It is past the stage in which its friends need to rally in order to keep it alive, or its enemies can expect to destroy it by the most energetic attacks. The attitude of wisdom towards it, therefore, can be neither that of hostility nor neglect. Since it has come to stay, we are all interested in ascertaining its possibilities, both good and evil, and in getting from it the best obtainable results. So it is my intention to discuss briefly the influences which have given it existence and determined its function, and those which it exerts in turn upon our education | and social system.
Unquestionably the summer school has sprung from the stress of modern life, and its rapid growth affords significant evidence of the increasing intensity of this stress. There is much to be done, and the time is short; and, while every advance in civilization adds to the task of the individual, the span of human existence remains practically the same. The most direct and evident way to redress the balance is to encroach on the resting-time. And so we see the teacher who has spent nine months of the year in the constant and exhausting labors of his profession giving also, either as instructor or as student, the whole, or at least the major part, of his precious vacation to such work as that which we begin here today. It would not be right to characterize the tendency which in so doing he obeys as entirely healthful. One of its more extreme and worse effects is the increase of nervous ills, of insanity, and of suicide, which may be taken as a rough measure of the progress of social evolution. The spirit of the age is as insatiable as the daughters of the horse-leech. It cries out eternally for more strength and skill and endurance; him that cannot respond it punishes with failure, and on him that pushes his efforts to do so too far beyond the limits of his ability it lays the penalty of collapse. It has given us the summer school. How shall we estimate the gift?
It is good, I believe, and one for which we should be duly thankful. The very existence of the summer school is such a brave answer to the challenge of the zeit-geist as ought to fill us with encouragement. It is proof that the stock of our national vitality has not yet begun to show signs of exhaustion. It is evidence of our fitness for the struggle in which, whether we will or no, we must engage for dominance among the nations of the earth.
For the pitiful truth is that progress comes mainly by fighting; and one of the most essential lessons of the past-one which no love of inaction can obscure, and no cowardice evade—is that we ought - to fight. Rarely, indeed, do we find just occasion for physical attack or defence, but the necessity for intellectual and moral contest recurs almost constantly. The only kind of individuality that deserves the name is that which by striving with and overcoming opposition, impresses itself upon the world. It is the strenuous lives that determine social conduct and give direction to history. With all respect and reverence for scriptural truth, let me assert that, other things being equal, the race is to the swift, the battle to the strong, and the prize of success in the game of life to the most skillful player,
It is true that other things are not often equal, and that the organic nature of society and the limitations imposed by it upon the individual frequently destroy the conditions necessary for free competition and transfer the advantage to the worse qualified and the less meritorious. Such is the case both in the industrial and in the literary and professional field. All this, however, is but the friction due to the growing complication of our social machinery, and sometimes to its newness and imperfection. Much loss of energy results, no doubt; but there is cause for congratulation in the fact that the American people has still a large surplus. Taken together with our national courage and capability, it gives the assurance that our future will be even richer in achievement than our past. Therefore, I welcome every evidence of reserve strength and capacity among us, and especially in our teachers, who are often sorely tested.
It can hardly be denied that a complete analysis of the tendency which has given us the summer school would disclose some motives of which we ought to be ashamed. It is claimed, for example, that many teachers attend the summer normals only for the sake of the certificates that are the prizes of the attendant examinations. These are such as would live by bread alone. They would never work in summer if they were sure they could get through the winter without it. They have considered the ways of the ant to a certain extent, and neither they nor we should be unthankful that they have gained a degree of wisdom. Such cattle take advantage of the opportunities they have only because necessity compels it; and it is fortunate that they must accept in the bargain more or less of incidental moral and intellectual development.
But the rise and growth of this peculiarly American and modern institution bears witness to something more than the increasing requirements of the age and the ability to meet them, or the demand for certificates and degrees. It indicates, I believe, on the part of the teachers who attend it, an aspiration for something better, for a higher standard of professional duty and skill, and a desire for genuine self-improvement. The American teacher is charged with many faults and shortcomings, and one count in the general indictment is that he—I use the masculine pronoun in generalizing, but not without the impulse to substitute she—is superficial in his scholarship, and more so in his teaching. Moreover, it can scarcely be denied that when he is compared with his professional brother in a country like Germany, for example, the charge appears to have a certain justification. But of one thing he can scarcely be accused, and that is unfrankness. If he is not always as well equipped as he should be, he does not conceal the fact from himself; the prosperity of the summer school is his humble confession. Flung into professional life, so to speak, before he has been able to complete his preparation for it, he has thenceforth very little opportunity. The necessity for a livelihood, and the risk of giving up a more or less satisfactory position, once obtained, keep him at work as teacher during the regular term, when he ought to be in some academy, college, or university as a student; his only chance to continue his own studies under competent direction is to sandwich them in during summer. That he is conscious of the reasons for doing this, and is willing to do it, ought certainly to increase the respect and confidence accorded to him by his generation.
To the motives which bring the ordinary university student to
the summer school I cannot give, in general, the same commendation. The teacher, situated as he is, must come then, or not at all; and in justice to him the opportunity of which he cannot avail himself at any other season should be extended to him in his vacation. There are many students, too, who feel the pressure of necessities almost exactly the same as those of the teacher, and they may well avail themselves of the same advantages. But the young man or woman undergraduate with the time and money necessary to complete the course ought not to be here. Their presence indicates to me the effect of one of the great vices of civilization, namely, its impatience. It ruins both work and pleasure in its haste. It is forever plucking the closely-folded bud and the unripened fruit. My young friend, if you belong to the class I have described, if you are doing this work only because four years seems to you such a long time, and you wish to compress your undergraduate course into three, let me warn you that you are making a mistake. You may get into life a year sooner, but you will be the worse prepared; and you are in danger of paying, some day, the penalty of your haste in premature old age. If you have wasted time, and are here simply to make it up, you may be able to justify yourself; but the wrong began further back, and should have been corrected there. You will need your full strength hereafter; do not impair it by overtasking yourself now. And for the sake of your own character, always take time to do whatever you have to do well and thoroughly. If you can work through a part, or even the whole, of your vacation without disobedience to either of these injunctions, you may safely do so; otherwise, you cannot.
This leads naturally to a consideration of the influences which emanate from the summer school, and of the value of its work. The principal criticism of the institution is based upon the charge of superficiality. It will save time and facilitate the purposes of this discussion to state the allegations of the critics baldly, as they themselves usually put them. They say that the ablest lecturers are not to be heard from the Chautauqua platforms, and that the most eminent and strongest men of university faculties do not take part in the summer work; that the conditions under which this work is done preclude the best, or even good, results; that the time given is so short, and that the plans include so much as to make any