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.