OUR VILLAGE SCHOOL
By WILLIAM W. JOHNSON
WHEN our village school is caught up on the great wave of reconstruction, which is imminent now that we know the terms of the Government White Paper, it will be making the first substantial change (so the natives say) in its history. The old brick building, towering up over the cottages, looks the same now (they declare) as when it was first constructed ; the schoolchildren seem essentially those of a couple of generations ago ; class lessons, in spite of their new names, have not disentangled themselves from the eternal " Three Rs ": how then (they ask) can there have been any important educational advances in the village during the last sixty years?
To the inexperienced eye this may all seem true. Possibly the school structure and its surroundings are visibly unaltered, although there have been subtle yet important transformations ; the children probably mimic their forebears outwardly, but it would be a mistake to imagine that their outlook on life is unchanged ; and if there are the same struggles with reading-books, spellings and endless " sums," it must not be forgotten that education in any of its multi- farious forms cannot be dissociated from the impact of problems and their solutions. During past decades there has been a meta- morphosis in teaching methods, and schooling by force has dis- appeared in favour of schooling by persuasion. Old-fashioned lessons assumed a terrifying severity that today has gone for ever.
On a clear day our village school is visible from the towers of a great northern cathedral, although it lies by no means in their shadow. One daily bus, known only to early risers, serves the village ; consequently it cannot be said that this large neighbouring city is well within reach. Indeed, the bus is our only link with outer civilisation, for the railway station—some miles ,distant— deigns only to deal with sombre goods traffic. It is not surprising, therefore, that our villagers are, on the whole, simple in their habits and insular in their outlook. Their livelihood depends almost entirely on the fruitfulness of the land, and their desires, evident at the end of each weary day, are so easily satisfied that an occasional whist drive or dance provides ample distraction. No cinema may be found in this or any near-by village ; and if the horror shown by our councillors at the suggestion that fifty pounds should be spent on a film-unit is any criterion, then there is no particular wish for any such entertainment here. Parish councillors are, of course, few, and the villagers in the main have so little understanding of or appreciation for systems of local or national government that there are signs of an innate sense of loathing for bureaucracy wherever it appears. This attitude has repercussions upon the school, which is generally regarded as a useful nursery for children too young to help themselves and as a prison which wrongfully detains boys or girls able to do useful work on the land.
The children themselves are equally crude and primitive. Few ever see at home a daily newspaper or a worthwhile book : some are not only discouraged from reading, but are forbidden to take home books from schooL " Uncle Mac " and other broadcasting personalities beloved by countless children are almost unknown here. Many pupils have never travelled in a train, so that a recent scholar- ship question inviting a description of a busy terminus was com- pletely outside their experience. Needless to say, scholarships are seldom won here: indeed, the feeling seems to be that no country boy worth his salt would waste precious time at a secondary school ; and why (it is asked) should the older children have to be educated outside of the village when the Government's plan for reorganisation matures?
Undoubtedly, the " over-elevens" will be transported to a new modern school when the change is made. Eventually they will be making the journey daily until they are sixteen. Why? and what will this new " secondary " education be? ask the parents. It may be that efforts will be made to carry them a stage or two further with their present school subjects, and if this happens there is a feeling that this may prove a tragedy for the children and for the village at large. At the end of it all there is some doubt as to whether these children will compare favourably with town children now completing schooling at the age of fourteen. Are there any alternatives? Some authorities, stimulated by the pros of evacuation, have already expressed a desire for the reverse- process, the migration of country children to the towns after the war. This might mean new and exciting experiences for our young rustics, though not necessarily richer and more useful lives. But there are other alternatives. What the children of this village (and possibly many other villages) need above all else is to learn how to live life to the full here on their native soil. Already they have knowledge of a sort, but when probed it is found to be eminently superficial and certainly lacking, as it is among the elders, in appreciation for the great contributions made for the benefit of the countryside by science, by the work 4of our Sir John Russells and by the discoveries of recent Russian experimenters.
If children, already itching to " go on the land " by the time they reach the age of twelve are to be compelled to remain at school until they are sixteen, then the least that modern society can do for them is .to help them to know thoroughly the land on which they depend, and fit them to be able to work it to the best advantage. To this end, it would seem that the fine new central schools we now see in the towns, furnished with spacious demonstration rooms, expensive equipment and extensive playing-fields, are not quite what is required by country children ; yet these, it seems, are intended in the White Paper proposals. In the view of the present writer the new rural secondary schools must be planned on other lines. They must be more truly rural.
At least one school in this country possesses its own model farm This must be the starting-point for the rural secondary school of the future—a miniature farm, with its miniature farmhouse and dairy ; miniature smithy., saddlery, wheelwright's, garage, market garden, canteen—these should replace the demonstration rooms and work- sh'ps we see at present in the new urban schools. Initially, they will cost more, but they would not justify themselves unless they more than paid their way. Instead of being attached to the central build- ing (with its assembly hall and a minimum of classrooms), they would be scattered. possibly among neighbouring villages. Each centre of industry would be equipped with modern implements, and would be in charge of up-to-date workmen whose methods would be observed and (when opportunity offered) assisted. While watch- ing and testing and working here, pupils would no doubt forget all that smacks of the school-desk and the classroom. But the various squads of children would repair to the central building from time to time to receive oral instruction, make notes, join in organised games and hold club meetings.
These vital club meetings would be organised in school hours and carried. to their logical conclusions in the evenings. Some children might thereby be moved to remain in the central village throughout the week and return home only at week-ends and holi- days. Thus the provision of small hostels might be deemed neces- sary, but these, again, would have to be self-supporting. Hostels would give place to camps during summer month%—surely an innovation, since camping has been associated in the past mainly with town children.
These fleeting visions of " what might be " portray the rural secondary school of the,.future as a miniature village community where potential countrymen would live the lives they need, and where the proverbial drabness of rural existence would be proved a myth. Although it is too much to expect such ambitious schemes in the immediate future, it might be well if we planned now in order to achieve these ends. Given opportunities of continued education along these lines, the children of this village and their parents would look forward. to the promised era of rural recoil.; struction as a great advance in educational history.
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