The normal child welcomes such a measure of responsibility as falls within the compass of his powers and acquits himself of it in a manner that is worthy of commendation.  This open truth encourages the conviction that the superintendent who can give to the teacher a definite plan by which she will be able to develop a sense of responsibility, will commend himself to her favor, if not admiration.  They both know full well that if the pupil emerges from the school period lacking this quality he will be a helpless weight upon society and a burden to himself and his family, no matter what his mental attainments.  He will be but a child in his ability to cope with situations that confront him and cannot perform the functions of manhood.  Though a man in physical stature he will shrink from the ordinary duties that fall to the lot of a man and, like a child, will cling to the hand of his mother for guidance.  In all situations he will show himself a spiritual coward.

The problem is easy of statement but by no means so easy of solution.  At the age of six the boy takes his place at a desk in the school.  Twenty years hence, let us say, he will be a railway engineer.  As such he must drive his engine at forty miles an hour through blinding storm, or in inky darkness, or through menacing and stifling tunnels, or over dizzy bridges, or around the curve on the edge of the precipice—­and do this with no shadow of fear or hint of trepidation, but always with a keen eye, a cool head, and a steady hand.  In his keeping are the lives of many persons, and any wavering or unsteadiness, on his part, may lead to speedy disaster.  Somewhere along the way between the ages of six and twenty-six he must gain the ability to assume a heavy responsibility, and it would seem a travesty upon rational education to force him to acquire this ability wholly during the eight years succeeding his school experience.  If, at the age of eighteen, he does not exhibit some ability in this respect, the school may justly be charged with dereliction.

Or, twenty years hence, this boy may be a physician.  If so, he will find a weeping mother clinging to him and imploring him to save her baby.  He will see a strong man broken with sobs and offering him a fortune to save his wife from being engulfed in the dark shadows.  His ears will be assailed with delirious ravings that call to him for relief and life.  He will be importuned by the grief-crushed child not to let her mother go.  He will be called upon to grapple with plague, with pestilence, with death itself.  Unless he can give succor, hope departs and darkness enshrouds and blights.  He alone can hold disease and death at bay and bid darkness give place to light and cause sorrow to vanish before the smile of joy.  He stands alone at the portal to do battle against the demons of devastation and desolation.  And, if he fails, the plaints of grief will penetrate the innermost chambers of his soul.  He must not fail.  So he toils on through the long night watches, disdaining food and rest, that the breaking day may bring in gladness and crown the arts of healing.  And the school that does not share in the glory of such achievement misses a noble opportunity.