THE INDEPENDENT SCHOOLMASTER.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4577, 20 November 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE INDEPENDENT SCHOOLMASTER.

(By Old Chdm in the Queenslander.) Ay ! It is a wearing life, that of a schoolmaster, and especially when a man is not a Government teacher. You see, since free education became the order of the day, we independent teachers have had hard work to get in the miserable fees we charge. .. The parents can’t see that there is a great difference between us and the Government teachers. They wonder why they must pay fees to one teacher and the people of another locality get their children taught for nothing. They forget that one man is in receipt of a salary and a capitation grant, while the other has only his fees to depend upon, and God knows they barely keep body and soul together., , ■ , ; : Then the children are kept at home on all sorts of pretexts. It was wet, or it was the end of the week, or even the old joke, “ ICeptatomatterin.” They ought to' appreciate the boon of a school ? Ah !my dear sir, I can tell you that in spite of their calling out for schools and for education, they look upon the schoolmaster as their natural enemy—if fees are demanded.

What do I charge ? Well, it is really difficult to say. I charge nominally a shilling a week, hut out of twelve children who attend the school not five bring the shilling regularly. As I said before, one child comes on Wednesday instead of on Monday. In this case, if I demanded my shilling, a storm of indignation would burst on my devoted head. Mrs. Jones would run and carry the news of the “ skulemaister’s check” in demanding a shilling for only three days' schooling to Mrs. Brown, who Would spread the atrocious attempt as a diabolical swindle to Mrs. Robinson, and so the news would spread, until everyone would look on me as a robber and destroyer of domestic peace. I get a portion of my fees in kind, potatoes—generally the small unsaleable ones—’Cabbages,

onions, milk, eggs, anything that is not actual money finds its way to my house, so that I have actually sufficient and more than sufficient, to live on. But if I were to sell any of the surplus I should he a monster. My supplies would stop, as I should be accounted rich.

Then I have the greatest difficulty in supplying hooks. I have not the means to keep up a supply of my own, and the parents can t see the use of hooks. “ What’s the good of a skulemaister et he can’t tache without hooks ? ’ That is the argument. Hence I am driven to all sorts of shifts to do any good. Often I have messages brought to me to request that I’ll teach Jemima Ann something, and “look sharp about it.” The said Jemima Ann being probably the most irregular attendant of the whole school. The father of Betsy Jane informs me that she is to be regularly caned—caning and teaching being, in his bucolic mind, synonymous terms. Against this, an irate giant walks into my little schoolroom —which he appears to fill completely—and surlily demands to know how I dare ill-treat his boy Johnny. The boy Johnny is a huge, rawboned, redheaded, large-handed lad, with an intellect as dense as a November fog,.whom I have requested to stand on a form for half an hour. The demands, protests, and threatenings are endless. All these would be at once put down if I were a public-school teacher ? Why don't I enter the service ? I would if I could; but the fact is, I am rather too old to begin to study. I have lost most of the minutiae of the “ ies,” the “ aphies,” and the “ ologies,” and I could not enter the service without going through an examination for which it would cost me an immense effort to read up, and which would he productive of mortificato me should I fail. I might obtain assistance from the Education Board, and thus bring myself to a certain extent within the pale of the service ; but, for the small stipend granted me, I should forfeit my independence. As I am, I am at least free to go and come. lam subject to no inspections. I may open and close my school when I please. But even here, I am in antagonism with the parents. The children are kept away on any frivilous pretence for a week or two at a time; hut if I should give notice of a holiday, say on the Queen’s Birthday, immediately a chorus of injured parents rises ; “ Abominable ! It’s disgraceful ! To go for to shut up the skule, an’ keep the poor childre from the bit of laming they has a chance of getting ! It’s a shame !”

Then lam decried as lazy. Ah I they think a schoolmaster has fine easy times. Open at nine and close at four ! Yes, that is the way these poor ignorant folk look at it. Only five hours’ light work, and then its over. Light work ! Why, compared with teaching, ploughing and splitting are enjoyments. Oh I the dull, dull routine work iu a little country school like this. Compelled to go over and over the same ground again and again. Abused, slandered, charged with incompetency by men whose total learning barely enables them to make out the brand on a cow ! I often feel quite disheartened, and inclined to give up the contest; but when I look at the poor children, and reflect on the possibility—nay, the very great probability—of their growing up in the debasing ignorance which is the lot of their parents, I rescind my resolution to retire from the field, and work on day after day, content if I find the smallest spark of interest awakened in the slumbering minds of my charges. To give you an instance of the sort of persecution I endure :—A laborer one day walked into the schoolroom, and informed me that he has come to know “ whoy his Bill warn’t lamin’ nothink.” Now, the said Bill had come to the school six mouths previously to the father’s visit. His stay had been limited to four days, and latterly he had attended irregularly for a week. Under these circumstances it was not very probable that Master William should have made rapid advances in learning. I tried to explain this to the father. “Doant ee tell I. I has leamin’ enuff to teach thic skule myself. Aint my lad been ’ere 2 Whoy cam’t he read ee buke 2 You bean’t no gude. You a skulemaister ! Whoy you cam’t teach my Bill a little bit, and I’se gwine to take ’un hoam !” What could Ido 2 Eeasoning was no use, so Bill departed. He will most probably grow up a vicious, ignorant lout, and like his father will boast of his “lamin” and of the days when he went to school, and the master was too stupid to teach him anything. The mothers are often as bad. I once was assailed by a female Tartar with such a volley of vituperation and abuse that I was glad to accede to the angry demand of the virago, and send her unhappy children out to her. With a parting discharge of oaths and abuse she attacked the innocent children, and drove them home before her with blows and curses. In time* gone by I had assisted this woman and her husband, both pecuniarily and otherwise. Thus did she evince her gratitude. Although I seldom visit the children with corporal punishment, yet if necessity compelled me to do so, I was sure next day of a visit from the enraged parents, who breathed out threatenings against me of fines and imprisonment for assault and battery. But they considered themselves at perfect liberty to cruelly illuse their offspring. I remember once a girl, about eight years of age, stole a thimble and a few other trifling articles from a fellow-scholar. Having brought the theft fairly home to the offender, I sent a note to the father requesting him to deal with the matter. On receiving my note he deliberately stripped the child, tied her to one of the beams of his house, and beat her so unmercifully with a broom-handle that the neighbors had to rush in and rescue the child from what would certainly have been her last beating. On hearing of the occurrence I expostulated with the father on his brutality. _ His only excuse was that when he was “ riz” he was mad. I mentally decided never to delegate punishment to hands so utterly incompetent again. How long have I been at the work ? It is many years now since I first commenced. I always liked to he surrounded with little children, and I thought it would be pleasant to have them constantly with me. Alas ! I only calculated on the children. I knew nothing of the contumely and wretchedness which would often be my lot at the hands of the parents. I have time after time been obliged to remove to a new neighborhood, owing to the establishment of the National School. No fees to pay. That was the great attraction. My little tabernacle was soon deserted, and I had to leave in search of “fresh fields and pastures new.” I have followed rushes on the goldfields. This was my most arduous work. My school was set up in a tent, and perhaps for a month or so I got on very well. Money was plentiful, and the diggers were far from niggardly. Some fine morning I would open my tent for the day’s work, and perhaps not half-a-dozen children appeared. On inquiring the reason, I was informed that a new rush had broken out many miles away, and all the people were on the move.

Thera was then no help for me. I must pack up my school and follow the scholars. ; As soon as any diggings become at all settled, and I might hope for rest and quiet, the influential inhabitants began to bestir themselves to obtain a National School. Committees were formed, letters were written, an inspector arrived, and I was quietly placed in the shade by an imposing school building, a Government teacher, and best of all—no fees. Thus have I been a wanderer for many years. Never have I been enabled to earn more than kept me in decent clothing and sufficient food, for even on the diggings, where money was plentiful, provisions and clothing were expensive, and my money melted as fast as it came in. Why don’t I choose a populous and more prosperous neighborhood V For the very reason I have just given. As soon as a district feels itself settled, and no longer poor, the people begin to look beyond their noses. There are generally to be found in populous districts a few go-ahead men, of large and extended views. The multitude are led by these men, who have overlooked the other districts adjoining them, and finding that they have succeeded in obtaining schools, set themselves to work to do likewise, and it goes very hard indeed if, in a very short time, the locality be not provided with the National School. Therefore I choose a district, where the people are few and far

between, and yet have children enough to give me a livelihood by teaching them. Were it not for such aa I, these unhappy children wou.d possibly never obtain any education, as their numbers are to small to warrant the establishment of the National School, and the Government have not aa yet found any way of reaching the outside districts with any beneficial results. They did try itinerant teachers, but the plan did not work satisfactorily, and it was abandoned. _ Give the children a holiday ! I m afraid you would not receive their cordial thanks for your well-meant kindness. _ You see, they are all children of agriculturists, and if they were sent home for the day, so far from enjoying a day’s freedom, they would immediately be set to work picking cotton, hoeing weeds, or performing other operations on the farm which can be delegated to children. No, sir, they would far prefer to be at school. School is really their holiday. They come as early as eight o'clock. This gives them a good hour’s play before school begins. At eleven they have a half hour’s romp to stretch themselves. Then at noon they enjoy two blissful hours munching dinner any playing about. School is over at i p.m., and it is always near dusk before the youngsters reach home, as they invariably take another half hour’s play at school, and then take a wandering zig-zag course to their homes. This, then, is real holiday time for them. I think holidays are really for the overtaxed teacher, more than for the children. The latter are not overburthened with lessons, while the former has all the worry and anxiety attendant on his responsible charge. If you asked one of those urchins if he would like » holiday he would reply, “ No, thank you, sir, we’ve got to work if wo go home.” So, on the whole, it will be better to proceed with the work. Good morning to you. And so the older teacher drudges along year after year, -with no ambition beyond being permitted to earn a sufficient livelihood. He has no inducements held out to him, as has the Government teacher, of increase of salary, promotion, bonuses, grants for increased attendance. He has no grand schoolroom furnished with all modern appliances, with assistants of all grades. He has no protection, as the latter has, from insult'and abuse. The children can be taken away from him and replaced at the National School at the sweet will of the parents. The teacher of one of these schools, armed with the authority of the “Board,” is an autocrat whose will is not to be disputed, unless his power has been arbitrarily used, and even then the parent may not interfere with the teacher. He must apply to head-quarters for his redress. Verily, the life of the “ independent teacher” appears to be far more “ dependent” than that of the Government man. But he is doing a good work.. It is a work of love, for surely the pay is of the meanest kind. He is happy in his vocation. His books and his children are all-sufficient for him. Surrounded by these, he wends his way through the path of life, contributing his quota to the work of it, which shall live and bear fruit—it may be an hundred-fold—long after the sower of the seed is reaping-his reward in a happier sphere.