actice in parts of the
United States. In spite of opposition from school boards, from all those
who cling to the conviction that education must of necessity be an
unpalatable and "disciplinary" process, the number of these schools is
growing. The objection, put forth by many, that they are still in the
experimental stage, is met by the reply that experiment is the very
essence of the system. Democracy is experimental, and henceforth
education will remain experimental for all time. But, as in any other
branch of science, the element of ascertained fact will gradually
increase: the latent possibilities in the mind of the healthy child will
be discovered by knowledge gained through impartial investigation. The
old system, like all other institutions handed down to us from the ages,
proceeds on no intelligent theory, has no basis on psychology, and is
accepted merely because it exists.

The new education is selective. The mind of each child is patiently
studied with the view of discovering the peculiar bent, and this bent is
guided and encouraged. The child is allowed to forge ahead in those
subjects for which he shows an aptitude, and not compelled to wait on a
class. Such supervision, of course, demands more teachers, teachers of
an ability hitherto deplorably rare, and thoroughly trained in their
subjects, with a sympathetic knowledge of the human mind. Theirs will be
the highest and most responsible function in the state, and they must be
rewarded in proportion to their services.

A superficial criticism declares that in the new schools children will
study only "what they like." On the contrary, all subjects requisite for
a wide culture, as well as for the ability to cope with existence in a
highly complex civilization, are insisted upon. It is true, however,
that the trained and gifted teacher is able to discover a method of so
presenting a subject as to seize the imagination and arouse the interest
and industry of a majority of pupils. In the modern schools French, for
example, is really taught; pupils do not acquire a mere smattering of the
language. And, what is more important, the course of study is directly
related to life, and to practical experience, instead of being set forth
abstractly, as something which at the time the pupil perceives no
possibility of putting into use. At one of the new schools in the south,
the ignorant child of the mountains at once acquires a knowledge of
measurement and e