of a circle of calm and light. It is Venus of
Milo come to life, silently distilling the beauty
and splendor of living. In its presence harshness
becomes gentleness, hysteria becomes equanimity, and
sound becomes silence. From its presence vaunting
and vainglory and arrogance hasten away to be with
their own kind. By its power, as of a miracle,
it changes the dross into fine gold, the grotesque
into the seemly, the vulgar into the pure, the water
into wine. Into the midst of commotion and confusion
it quietly moves, saying, “Peace, be still!”
and there is quiet and repose. Like the sun-crowned
summit of the mountain, it stands erect and sublime
nor heeds the cloudy tumult at its feet. In the
school, the teacher who exemplifies and typifies this
quality of serenity is never less than dignified but,
withal, is never either cold or rigid. Children
nestle about her in their affections and expand in
her presence as flowers open in the sunshine.
She cannot be a martinet nor, in her presence, can
the children become sycophants. Her very presence
generates an atmosphere that is conducive to healthy
growth. There is that impelling force about her
that draws people to her as iron filings are drawn
to the magnet. Her smile stills the tumult of
youthful exuberance and when the children look at her
they gain a comprehensive definition of a lady.
Her poise steadies the children in all the ramifications
of their work, her complete mastery of herself wins
their admiration, and her complete mastery of the situation
wins their respect. They become inoculated with
her spirit and make daily advances toward the goal
of serenity. Knowledge is her meat and drink and,
through the subtle alchemy of sublimation, her knowledge
issues forth into wisdom. She does not pose,
for her simplicity and sincerity have no need of artificial
garnishings. Her outward mien is but the expression
of her spiritual power, and when we contemplate her
we know of a truth that education is a spiritual process.
To the teacher without serenity, the days abound in
troubles. She is nervous, peevish, querulous,
and irritable, and her pupils become equally so.
She thinks of them as incorrigibles and tells them
so. To her they seem bad and she tells them so.
Her animadversions reflect upon their parents and
their home life as well as themselves and she takes
unction to herself by reason of her strictures.
Her spiritual ballast is unequal to the sail she carries
and her craft in consequence careens and every day
ships water of icy coldness that chills her pupils
to the heart. She has knowledge, indeed much
knowledge, but she lacks wisdom, hence her knowledge
becomes weakness and not power. She has spiritual
hysteria which manifests itself in her manner, in
her looks, and in her voice. Her spiritual strength
is insufficient for the load she tries to carry and
her path shows uneven and tortuous. She nags
and scolds in strident tones that ruffle and rasp
the spirits of her pupils and beget in them a longing
to become whatever she is not. She is noisy where
quiet is needful; she causes disturbance where there
should be peace; and she disquiets where she should
soothe. She may have had training, but she lacks
education, for her spiritual qualities show only chaos.
The waters of her soul are shallow and so are lashed
into tumult by the slightest storm. She lacks
serenity.