MIGRANT SCHOOLS
By DR. T. K. DERRY (Headmaster of Mill Hill)
HE canvas of Frith might have done justice to the T appearance of a London station on Evacuation Day, though no Derby Day ever presented so many colourful character sketches as this new type of school journey—in size gargantuan beyond Messrs. Cook's wildest dreams, in destination strangely indeterminate, and in paraphernalia as miscellaneous as indulgent authority would allow. But those travellers were for the most part elementary school children, and the public has heard enough of their satisfaction in new surroundings and new experiences (education without tears and with a freshness unknown to the text-book), and enough, too, of their dissatisfaction, for some of them, like the bar- barians in Tacitus, find the unfamiliar frightening. In any case, the continuity of their education in the narrower sense offers a comparatively simple problem, because the Elementary Code does prescribe something like a national pattern. The energetic teacher, erstwhile employee of some progressive county borough, may have cause to open her eyes wide at the " hours of instruction " kept (or not kept) by some rural colleague, but broadly speaking both teacher and child find in the village school an institution which professes to reproduce a familiar setting.
The present article is, however, concerned with the very different problem presented to the Public Secondary Schools, where individualism is the breath of life and the physical habitat a feeder of individualism. This perhaps explains a strange feature of the move. Thanks to the efficient plans of the railway companies, long journeys were almost as easy as short, and the mutually conflicting centifrugal move- ments from large towns and other danger zones all over the country made almost any permutation and combination of schools feasible: yet like has rarely attracted like. More than one of the great grammar schools have sought the hospitality of foundations which pride themselves on con- servative views of education supposed to be anathema to their guests ; a seaside boarding-school moves into the heart of the country, and an inland one simultaneously seeks friends by the sea ; Benedictines harbour Quakers, and strongholds of Anglicanism overflow with Methodists. Host and guest alike are striving to preserve their separate identity, and are aware that the characteristic ethos of the smaller unit has the best chance of surviving unimpaired if there is some element of contrast. Another phenomenon is less easily explicable. The elementary schools have been evacuated solely on grounds of danger to their own pupils ; the secondary schools, the mechanism of which is in any case more delicate, and therefore more easily impaired, have been evacuated with equal rigour on grounds of danger to their own pupils and on grounds of safety for Government officials. It is a strange paradox that the defence of the country, which makes the protection of children a main con- sideration, should actually thrust some of them towards the danger. Alternative accommodation may be provided here and there on the grand scale, but this does not remove the sense of unfairness and inconsequence.
Every evacuated school has to face many of the same problems of sanitation, food supply, and re-organisation of the working day, but as regards the dealings of school with school each is a law unto itself. In some cases the co- operation is tantamount to fusion, in others analogous rather to the peace-time. relation between good neighbours. Nevertheless, if we except the special cases of those schools which have removed themselves to what is, educationally speaking, virgin soil, ranging from the baronial halls of some nobleman's seat to the Victorian frontages of a minor health- resort, one generalisation is possible. The universal experience of newcomers has been abundant helpfulness on the part of the schools with which they are brought into contact—a pooling of local knowledge and special facili- ties, and often a lending of materiel, which alone made it possible to tide over the first few weeks. Essential educa- tional equipment includes many things which cannot be made in a hurry. Neither an adequate gymnasium, nor a science laboratory, such as the Board would approve, not even a good football-field can be got ready in a week.
In the nature of things schools had to travel light, and since the move they have been learning two essential lessons —how to do without and how to improvise. In a sense this is harder for teacher than for pupil, since to make a clean sweep of the familiar impedimenta of education makes a natural appeal to the youthful mind. But it would take a bold pedant to balance some jettisoning of books and the consequent handicap to the academic type of boy against the stimulus which the unacademic type of boy is gaining— and here it seems permissible to quote from personal ex- perience—as he converts soap-boxes into bookcases and horse-boxes into studies, decorates the shore with hockey pitches, and practises gymnastics where monks once prac- tised theology.
To sum up, so far this has been for many schools a great adventure, helped by an unusually fine season. The winter will search out a good many weak spots in hastily adapted buildings, and perchance in the individual's armour of good humour and resolution. Simultaneously the novelty will wear off : Thring himself must have found that, although his Uppingham-by-the-Sea had all the exciting novelty of a pioneer enterprise. But two things will remain. One Is a communal awareness of the national experience: In 1914. 1918 school life had a feeling of unreality because it was so unchanged, but for this generation the war-produced dia.. culties of their daily life will be an effective link with the larger realities of the day. The other is a growth of the spirit—for to deprive a school of its trappings by separa- tion from its physical home is to give it a chance to explore the strength of that congeries of habits, common ways of thought and latent emotions which distinguishes the most imperfect of schools from the most perfect of mere pedagogic machinery.
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