must also bring the answer.
So far as I know there is no other way to insure a maximum of efficiency
than to demand certain results and to hold the individual responsible
for gaining these results. The present standards of the teaching craft
are less rigorous than they should be in this respect. We need a craft
spirit that will judge every man impartially by his work, not by
secondary criteria. You remember Finlayson in Kipling's _Bridge
Builders_, and the agony with which he watched the waters of the Ganges
tearing away at the caissons of his new bridge. A vital question of
Finlayson's life was to be answered by the success or failure of those
caissons to resist the flood. If they should yield, it meant not only
the wreck of the bridge, but the wreck of his career; for, as Kipling
says, "Government might listen, perhaps, but his own kind would judge
him by his bridge as that stood or fell."
President Hall has said that one of the last sentiments to be developed
in human nature is "the sense of responsibility, which is one of the
highest and most complex psychic qualities." How to develop this
sentiment of responsibility is one of the most pressing problems of
education. And the problem is especially pressing in those departments
of education that train for social service. To engender in the young
teacher an effective prejudice against scamped work, against the making
of excuses, against the seductive allurements of ease and comfort and
the lines of least resistance is one of the most important duties that
is laid upon the normal school, the training school, and the teachers'
college. To do well the work that has been set for him to do should be
the highest ambition of every worker, the ambition to which all other
ambitions and desires are secondary and subordinate. Pride in the
mastery of the technique of one's calling is the most wholesome and
helpful sort of pride that a man can indulge in. The joy of doing each
day's work in the best possible manner is the keenest joy of life. But
this pride and this joy do not come at the outset. Like all other good
things of life, they come only as the result of effort and struggle and
strenuous self-discipline and dogged perseverance. The emotional
coloring which gives these things their subjective worth is a matter
very largely of contrast. Success must stand out against a background of
struggle, or the chief virtue of success--the consciousness of
conquest--will be entirely m
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