THE COLLEGE OF THE NEW ORDER
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.]
Ssa,—The revolt of youth is one of the distinguishing marks of to-day. Never before did the middle-aged or the elderly meet such a challenging gaze. "We are here," say the young ; "we want to live our own life. We must live it somehow." So there is an exodus from every kind of home—respectable poor home, affluent great home, city, country and suburb home.
At the bottom of the demand there is the will to give. The young Realist is always, at bottom, an Idealist ! And this Idealism, concealed or revealed, is a merciful provision of Nature. It is the great asset, for ever renewed, and more precious than even the achievements of any generation, for it makes all achievement possible. Before the close of the 'teens every well-endowed youth and maiden hears a call that cannot be quite stifled. He or she answers as he or she can, or may. They always hear. Even social triumphs, even the desire to "better oneself" of the poorer class, is a kind of rallying to this mysterious call. Given the chance, many would make a much bolder response : and it is of a few of these that I want to write.
Seventy-three girls begin their training for nursery and general school work next week at the Rachel McMillan College.
These will not go slumming, in the old sense. They are students preparing for a career. But their college is built in a very poor area ; in fact, in the midst of a " condemned " area, so they need not wander about looking for neighbours to help. Things are prepared for the real aspirant. They need waste no time. Their college opens on a great nursery school with 260 little children under five and nearly 100 more over-age children. In this place, the parents may come and go. Home doors are open to these young workers. Out-of- work men look in at the school gate. The lodging house people keep an eye on the kids ; the shop people are friendly— and the 'busmen. The tram-drivers and street-sweepers are in intimate touch. The policeman is glad to direct visitors : the publicans and the teetotalers alike wear paternal smiles. In short, here is the great world—like a sea washing all round the feet of the college. The student wades into her work under the friendly patronage of the very poor. No patronage is sweeter—or safer. She may begin at once to learn things first hand.
The elementary new desire "to live one's own life" passes now under the Light of new and growing knowledge. One's own life is seen in proportion. Other lives are here, innumer- able other claims, and one sees one's own life in relation to these. Children enter pale, puny, wretched : but under quite simple conditions begin at once to grow into pretty, charming, intelligent, and healthy beings. Mothers and fathers change like the sky. They might change quickly if we knew our job better. One fact emerges, England is rich. She has millions of well-endowed children. The average is high : far higher than the experts imagine. For even experts work with what is, and not with what might soon be. A third of all our children live in one-room homes—and still the capacity for change and response and progress is great. The young aspir- ant or student begins soon, we will hope, to see what Life offers to her as an adventure. She has a glimpse of white fields in front ! She may be a great adventurer : certainly there is no lack of opportunity. Worlds are still here—the Great World—unexplored.
That blessed word " Freedom " that she has heard for years begins to assume a strange new tendency to change too. Once it had no meaning at all. Then it became a shibboleth. What is it ? The children around her have not much free- dom. The infant in arms has practically none. Still one begins—one tries to give, for a start, muscular freedom which comes, if you think of it, first. The children can run a mile or snore in this school : that is a beginning. As their powers grow they win other orders of freedom, but these are limited by their power. The student learns that the acquisi- tion of power is, after all, the only road to liberty. She herself wins freedom slowly, not because inspectors are stern, but because progress is gradual. But with every real effort and achievement she already feels the inflew of happiness that tells her she is on the right path at last. Children win liberty its the same way. Well, we begin by giving space and planting many plants, many trees, stocking space with animals and objects . . . this, first.
Her mother is not so much alarmed as you might imagine. For, after all, all mothers are not so very old. Grandmothers are more frightened. Formerly all nice girls wanted nice homes, nice schools, nice careers. Now here are girls who don't want to go into nice places. Quite the contrary. The best aspire to go into difficult places ; slums, where the big problems are unsolved. The Arctic explorers are not "price." Raleigh did not want a soft job. Neither will the best teachers want it.
They will want to explore and to win.
Once there was a Renaissance in literature. Wordsworth, Scott, Shelley, and Dickens went back to the people. That was in the nineteenth century. This is the twentieth century. It seems as if teachers would follow the same course as the sailors and writers and airmen. They will go to the front, leaving the old text-books behind.
It is too early to judge what the result of all this may be in the social life of to-morrow. If a vast body of women have learned in youth to know and love the children of the nation, live with them in the open and in intimate contact with their homes and their people when they are young, things will hap- pen. Solutions will be found. For youth is right. It can — it may—change the world.
These same nurtured children, too, will be a new race.
It is safe to predict that the hope of youth will be justified. It is always justified in the brave. Many are brave to-day. This impulse to dare and win renewed in every generation has a purpose. Its call is not that of the mocking-bird.-1 am,
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