A COUNTRY SCHOOL.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1739, 24 July 1917, Page 4

A COUNTRY SCHOOL.

(By N. A. Winter).

ON THE EDGE OE SETTLEMENT. ■

Those who see anything of what may be called the borderland of settlement in this country are always struck with the early establishment of schools in the new districts. In quite the most unexpected places the little building is encountered, on the edge of a bush, or enseonsed in a nook where the pack-track makes a sudden bend, there being scarcely a sign, perhaps, of human habitation visible in the neighbourhood. To that little school, with its playground, shelter-shed, and perhaps its bit of garden, come every day a score or two of sturdy country children on foot or on horseback, sometimes three, or even four, of them mounted on one patient animal. Their homes may be as far distant as five or six miles, rough homes of the pioneers, felling the bush or grassing the land. Though varying, naturally, in the matter of teaching and of tone, these schools are a credit to the Slate, and not-v-ithstanding the calumnious epithet of “godless” bestowed upon them from time to time, have a decidedly humanising and uplifting effect. These.complimcntary remarks arc not to be taken as leading up to the statement that 1 happen to be in charge of a school of that type. Such, however, is the case. Though situated not far from the Main Trunk Line, it is really on the borderland, for settlement has only of late begun to cieep info the district. Glancing from the little knoll on which the school stands, the eye vherever it travels encounters nothing but a circle of hills. The smoke from a neighbouring planingshed is visible at times, but this -is practically the only hint of the existence of human beings in the vicinity. Close by is a deep gully, with a flat base, which is swampy and covered with toi grass and shrubs. It appears to be a deserted river bod. Enclosed in the ring of hills is an extensive plateau, composed entirely of pumice. It is strange to think that the mill and the houses and the school all rest on ashes blown out of volcanies 50 miles away, and accumulated to a depth of over a hundred feet. Its surface is not modelled in the systematic way that indicates water action, but consists of irregular mounds and hollows, such as are observed near the seashore where the sand was blown into heaps, which vegetation took hold of, fixing the temporary shapes into permanency. Grass and shrubs and plants, none of them sown by band, have covered it. The prevalent manuka, of course, is there, but shy and inconspicuous ground orchids have found their way to it also. One of these, Mr Chceseman tells me, is the Thelymitra panelflora, but my Maori pupils know it under the less formidable name of the “Makaika.” There is also the Pimclia laevigata, which in springtime covers the sombre ground with a mantle of white, like snow—so prevalent it is, and so copious are its flowers. Even the manuka itself, when in (he full whiteness of it..;. flowering, has a pretty effect in the mass. THE PUPILS. The children who attend my school—about 50 in all—may be divided into three classes, those of farmers, of mill-workers, and of Maoris, each class being about equally represented. It is possible to discern in the child even at an early ago the promise of future powers — powers as various as those existing in the grown-up world. One boy has a mechanical turn, another has a taste for art. A full-blooded Maori child of eight brings to school every week a different contrivance, made with the roughest of tools and the roughest materials. If this boy does not turn out a clever engineer he belies his promise. Another boy (a European) lias; a perfect rage for arithmetic. Number fascinates him. He should bo one of our future mathematicians. The .Maori pupils are much handicapped in their general progress through having only a slight knowledge of English. The settlement of the district has taken place so recently that their parents have had but small intercourse with the pakeha, and our language is consequently seldom heard in their homes. It is a difficult task to train them to utter correctly the unaccustomed sounds. Our harsh consonants are a great trouble to them. Byron writes somewhere of

our “Northern language guttural, which we have to hiss and spit and sputter all.” How different to the soft and smoothly-flowing Maori! I find, however, as most teachers who have Maori pupils find, that the little brown boys and girls make good progress even in this their most difficult task. In writing and drawing they 7 require hardly any teaching at all. They 7 have instinct for form, and consequently both their penmanship and drawing have always a touch of beauty. I have the strongest belief in the possibilities of the young Maori. What fine art craftsmen there should be found amongst them! Were there only a Wedgewood in New Zealand to establish are pottery works, he would find ideal operatives among the young Maoris, to whom there is -now, also, no likelihood of a field being opened up for their talents. IN MATTERS OF LANGUAGE. Being an occasional student of the science of language, I find it very interesting to note how the Maori children exemplify the intimate connection which exists between the thought and the language of any race. They have themselves an elaborate system of pronouns, which possesses, like the Greek, dual number, but in it there is no distinction of sex. “la” means ho, she, it, him, or her. Now, although my Maori pupils will pick up new words fast enough, they 7 seem to find it almost impossible to use correctly the pronouns indicating sex, and they 7 call a hoy 7 or girl ho, she, or it, with the greatest impartiality 7. , In their language there is no “copulative” or link verb. “Hori sick” is a litoral expression of their thought. You will toll them ten times a day to say, “Hori is sick,’? and (hey will smile pleasantly and politely, and repeat your words, hut next day it will he “Hori better,” as if nothing had happened. Their translation into Maori of some of our expressions often amuses mo by its quaint appropriateness. I told a hoy one day to ring the. hell. Ho passH the order on to another hoy as follows; ‘E, Tomi, whakatangi te pera,” i.e., “Oh, Tommy, make the bell sing (tangi).” There is a Biblical emphasis about some of their forms of speech. I saw a small hoy watching, openmouthed, while the school cleaner shook the mat, raising a cloud of dust. “E-e,” he exclaimed, “ka nui to paruparu!” “Great is the dust!” My knowledge of Maori is but slight, yet on one occasion I used it with gratifying success on a little elm]) who was too shy or diffident to speak out. Addressing him in the tones of a cattle-sales auctioneer, I said, “Kia kaha te korero.” “Strong ho thy speech!” The effect was magical. The scared youngster must have thought that the pakeha had been miraculously endowed with the gift of rational speech, like Balaam’s ass. At any rate, ho delivered the rest of his replies in a voice of almost unnecessary loudness. THE DISMISSAL. When school breaks up for the day there is a great commotion with saddling up the horses in the school paddock, laughing and joking in English and Maori, singing of fragments of school songs; then comes the scattering of the children in every direction on horseback and on foot; for a while are hoard the echoes of their voices from up and down the valley 7 , and then there is a great silence! 1 sit on the edge of the deserted river bed and think of the scores of little New Zealanders whom I taught years ago, and who now lie under the sod in Gallipoli, in France, in Egypt, and I think also of my pi 7escut pupils of just the same type, just (he same breed, who will, if need arises, be ready to do their part in the same way; the girls to make those sacrifices which our splendid women are making, and the boys to make the supreme sacrifice for our beloved country.—Auckland Herald.