d to work,--to represent these in the
face of opposition if need be,--to be faithful to the trusteeship of the
most priceless legacy that the past has left to the present and to the
future? If this is not our function in the scheme of things, then what
is our function? Is it to stand with bated breath to catch the first
whisper that will usher in the next change? Is it to surrender all
initiative and simply allow ourselves to be tossed hither and yon by the
waves and cross-waves of a fickle public opinion? Is it to cower in
dread of a criticism that is not only unjust but often ill-advised of
the real conditions under which we are doing our work?

I take it that none of us is ready to answer these questions in the
affirmative. Deep down in our hearts we know that we have a useful work
to do, and we know that we are doing it passably well. We also know our
defects and shortcomings at least as well as one who has never faced our
problems and tried to solve them. And it is from this latter type that
most of the drastic criticism, especially of the elementary and
secondary school, emanates. I confess that my gorge rises within me when
I read or hear the invectives that are being hurled against teaching as
a profession (and against the work of the elementary and secondary
school in particular) by men who know nothing of this work at first
hand. This is the greatest handicap under which the profession of
teaching labors. In every other important field of human activity a man
must present his credentials before he takes his seat at the council
table, and even then he must sit and listen respectfully to his elders
for a while before he ventures a criticism or even a suggestion. This
plan may have its defects. It may keep things on too conservative a
basis; but it avoids the danger into which we as a profession have
fallen,--the danger of "half-baked" theories and unmatured policies.
To-day the only man that can get a respectable hearing at our great
national educational meetings is the man who has something new and
bizarre to propose. And the more startling the proposal, the greater is
the measure of adulation that he receives. The result of this is a
continual straining for effect, an enormous annual crop of fads and
fancies, which, though most of them are happily short-lived, keep us in
a state of continual turmoil and confusion.

* * * * *

Now, it goes without saying that there are many ways