by beating him at his own line, even if it takes all summer. I shall therefore accept the challenge and proceed to carry on.

1. THE BATTLEGROUND OF ACADEMIC FREEDOM In the educational world there are really only a few places where the question of academic freedom is likely to cause a critical situation. It is not an issue in the elementary schools, nor in the secondary schools. Programs are laid down with sufficient exactness by boards of education or by college entrance examining boards, and supervision of teaching as well as the scrutiny of results is so thorough that there is little room for individual idiosyncrasies of individual teachers. The establishment of many teachers' colleges and the widespread acceptance of certain psychological principles of teaching are further acknowledgments of the undesirability of academic freedom in secondary and elementary education. Both the matter and the manner are becoming standardized. It is now necessary, not only to know the subject you would teach, but to have learned the methods of teaching that subject and to apply them.

It is rarely an issue in small colleges. Most institutions of this character are implicated by their endowments, by their sectarian support, or by the ultra-conservative nature of their administration to such a degree that no teacher therein who desires to retain his position on the faculty can with impunity even raise the question of academic freedom, much less exercise such freedom. Even if he dared, the attendant publicity would be so slightdue to the lack of standing of his institution -as to afford him no adequate advertising in return for his rashness.

The place where it is an issue, and where it is most frequently discussed, is in the universities in which courses are taught in sections. Most of our recent notorious clashes over the problem of academic freedom have taken place in such places as these: Columbia, Pennsylvania, Minnesota. It is of such that I speak. It is such that I have the temerity (so it seems to my publisher friend) to com

pare with teaching methods in vogue at The Infantry School at Camp Benning, Ga., or at any cantonment preparing a division for war service.

2. THE PROBLEM OF ORGANIZATION It is my contention that the problem of organization is approximately the same at these institutions as in the army teaching of which I speak. Whatever may be the subject taught, musketry or music, tactics or sonnets, there must be organization. Courses must be allotted to cover a certain amount of ground, programs must be framed to prevent duplication, criteria must be established to provide standardization. In other words there must be some semblance of uniformity, else the efficiency of the institution will deteriorate, and the conception of creditable work will be very chaotic indeed. In the army the problem is concerned with uniform training; in the schools with uniform preparation so that at the end all may be presumed to have covered the same ground and have the same data tucked away in their memory cells. In the army the major general knew what he wanted and so prescribed in orders; in the schools, educators have decided that certain things should be learned and have apportioned those things into certain courses, prescribed or elective, and their apportionment should have the force of orders in the minds of the men they employ to do the detailed work. As regards purely administrative details, then, let us assume that academic freedom in the schools should not mean the subversion of discipline, or that, if it does mean that, it has no place in the schools.

How many times have we not heard eminent gentlemen declare that the abiding impressions gained at college, are not of facts and figures, but rather of the personalities of men, the charm or vigor, the zeal or the wit of their professors? I have a sneaking suspicion about such declarations. I fancy they are made either as pleas for a superior type of teachers, or else that they simply reveal the poor quality of the teaching done by the charming, witty personalities and thereby

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form a further reason for the abolition of academic freedom. If declarations of this genre are not undesirable, why would we not receive with equanimity similar declarations concerning our grade schools or high school teachers? Would the world accept it as an excuse if, when guilty of flagrantly ungrammatical language, I said that my teacher in the grades was a charming lady with such a kindly Christian soul? She might have been, but she also drilled me well in p's and q's, and made me dot my i's and cross my t's. Would I be admitted into college, after flunking my entrance exams, if I remarked that my prep" master was an awfully funny fellow and such a good sort? He may have been, but he also provided me with the facts the Examination Board wanted. Should I be excused from a gross tactical error that wiped out my company if I said that the man who taught me tactics was a fine soldierly looking and acting man, or that my men liked me enough to die for me? Of course not! And why should analogies like these meet objection Simply because the impression has got abroad that a liberal education is supposed to develop character more than logic, and because there is after graduation no really adequate check upon the graduates who scatter over the country, lose themselves in many towns and many occupations, and never are sufficiently united to hold responsible in the eyes of the world, the men who really are responsible. A college is supposed to teach habits of thought and to furnish backgrounds for thinking. And no one ever knows in the years afterwards, if such habits have been taught and such backgrounds everlastingly painted in. So much for the necessity or organization.

3. EFFECTIVE TEACHING

We are told that Robert Louis Stevenson used to stop little schoolboys with their bundled up books and say to them: "Tut! nonsense! You should read just what you like to read. That's education." Is it? No real educator would grant the point. People will read what they like to read anyway, provided

they like to read. Some will subsist on Snappy Stories and The Saturday Evening Post, in addition to their other duties, as the phrase goes in the army. Some will make their extra-curricular diet on Horace or on Meredith. But the educator steps in and prescribes certain other readings. So, whatever the subject's particular fancy, he will be certain of getting what the best minds of the educational world consider necessary. That is the problem of organization. Now as to the question of putting that problem into practise by means of effective teaching. Under the present requirement of the Ph.D. degree, and the present requirements for the Ph.D. degree-if you follow me we are not certain of effective teaching. We sometimes get scholarly lectures; we sometimes get entertaining lectures; we sometimes get effective lectures.

The real thing the matter with our college teaching to-day is that it is not based upon sound pedagogy. I am speaking now of the individual college professors. Few of them have ever taken a course in a department of education. Few of them could explain psychologically and pedagogically what is meant by transferred interest" and by "false interest." Most of them fall into one of two large groups: scholars or lecturers. The scholars hold their positions by virtue of, and are primarily interested in, research of an intricacy and depth beyond the ken of the students in the 'teens and early twenties. The lecturers strive to be entertaining, to get a laugh, to be popular. Each group deviates, though in opposite ways, from the sound doctrine of "the greatest good for the greatest number." The scholar too frequently forgets the number; the lecturer the good. And since this is the type that is so often remembered in those "abiding impressions" we so often hear about, perhaps a precise example will not lengthen the argument unduly.

A professor who was about to lecture to a large class on Browning, the only lecture on Browning too, told us to watch his lecture carefully. He was going to shock them. He was going to tell them that the Browning's

married life was not all serene as has been so commonly supposed, that once for a short time Mrs. Browning's interest in spiritualism almost caused an estrangement. We did. We watched him better than he knew. We watched the effect of his lecture on almost a thousand freshmen who had hardly heard of Browning before. We even examined the freshman notebooks to see what they took down. The result should have been sufficient to cause him everlasting chagrin, and was in any event sufficient to damn forever this type of entertaining lecture. Almost with out exception their hasty notes said something like this: "The Browning's married life was very unhappy because Mrs. Browning believed in spiritualism." Due to the manner of his delivery, due to the impending visit of Sir Oliver Lodge to that locality, due to their uninstructed ignorance of the facts, the man who was supposed to instruct them had actually caused them to fix upon the exception and take it for the rule.

He

I see another group of students stretched before a lecturer. This time all are in khaki. The instructor is a colonel in the army. is not dry. He has personality. He does not bend over his notes. His hearers occasionally laugh. But here they laugh at the right place. He makes them laugh at things that he wants them to remember, at things which he considers it important for them to remember. For a month that class was mocking him as he spoke of "not knowing when the blamed thing was going off," when he told of "watching the little round bullet go into the little black hole," when he made ridiculous the type of "coaching" which he wanted to eliminate. He had succeeded in his attempts. His interest was not a false interest. He made the class remember the really essential points in his system of instruction.

I leave it to any one, even to my skeptical publisher friend, whether in these two instances, academic freedom proved its desirability for effective teaching. The first lecturer was free, but futile, if not actually pernicious. The second lecturer was subject

to all forms of restriction; he knew that he had to drive certain things home and he unquestionably did it.

4. ABSOLUTE IDENTITY

The one part of my argument that seems to raise the greatest number of objections will be the last I shall defend. Aside from the matter of administration and aside from the detail of individualistic flippancies, I am asked to defend my position that there is any real basis for comparison between teaching in the army and teaching outside of the army. In my own mind I see no more essential distinction here than between elementary school work and collegiate work, than between the teaching of history and the teaching of languages. The materials differ, naturally, but it is not of materials that we speak. With concrete materials it is easy to be effective: mineralogy has fascinated many a man who never cared for Greek. With knotty problems it is easy to create interest: mathematics has aroused the combative spirit of many a man who never saw much in Shakespeare. There must be slight differences between the manner of teaching history and the manner of teaching machine guns; and I have seen both splendidly taught. The differences, however are differences in material and not differences in principles of pedagogy. Look over your shelves, ye pedagogues. The book on the teaching of history is far different from that on the teaching of English. But there is one thing that you forget. The psychological principles, the pedagogical theory, underlying the two are the same. The principles and the theory are simply applied in detail to different material. Principles and theories are abstract. Practise is concrete and must differ according to material. But if the principles and theories are sound, if they are true, if they are based upon a correct conception of the manner in which the human mind absorbs facts and arrives at intelligence, then they are applicable irrespective of the material. A fundamental law is true whatever the concrete material in which its workings is represented. The moon may differ from

Newton's apple. The lines of a tennis court from the lines of a railroad track. The trajectory of a bullet from the graph of an equation. But the fundamental laws which govern these are the same.

The university is likewise similar to the army school. Both have neophytes to instruct. Both must teach through the eye and the ear. Both must store the memory. Both must train in coordination, in quick thinking, and in sound decisions. Both have many different kinds of things to teach. The trouble with those who shout for academic freedom is simply this: they think that a university teacher (and I am of the clan) occupies a pedestal in regions serene, far removed from the laws of pedagogy which all the world is ready to admit are effective in teaching in the elementary schools, in the secondary schools, and in the army.

5. OUTSIDE OF THE CLASSROOM

It is possible that I have somewhat misunderstood those who desire academic freedom. It is possible that they are willing to grant all of my contentions up to this point, and yet still feel inclined to disagree with me. It is possible that they are sticking their tongues in their cheeks and saying: "Granted, but that is not the kind of academic freedom I desire." And here is their answer. Assume for an instant that all college teachers are effective. Assume that they apply in the classroom sound pedagogical principles. Assume that they throw no sand into the wheels of the administration. Even now I find that they still have an undesirable academic freedom. If a college teacher becomes involved in a public scandal, which may bring obnoxious publicity upon his institution, he should be separated therefrom to preserve the dignity of the college, the confidence of his constituency, so to speak, and to prevent the toleration of irregularities setting a bad example to the rising generations. If a college teacher, head of department we will say, or sole member of his department, insist upon using a text-book, his own or any one else's, setting forth doctrines of a prejudiced or of

by its very character, preserving and handing on to the future the heritage of the past, must necessarily be mainly conservative in its teaching, however progressive it may be in spirit. Only the things that are known should be taught; things that are accepted by reputable authorities as worthy.

Now, just for a moment, turn your eyes to the army The officer who misbehaves is cashiered for misconduct. The officer must instruct his men in conformity with the accepted American doctrine, not branching off into something the British or the French think is good. The officer must inculcate into the personnel under him the facts that wiser heads than his have thought it necessary for them to learn and not invent whimsies of his

In none of these matters do I see any difference between the army officer and the college instructor. And in the matter of research, I am asked? The college teacher should be permitted to carry on his research unimpeded. When presented before authoritative bodies of his colleagues at his own and other universities, and given by them a favorable judgment, then and only then should he put them before his students who deserve protection from the half-baked theories of singletracked enthusiasts. Similarly, the army officer may conduct his own studies, may make his suggestions through proper channels to higher authority, and may receive thereon intelligent criticism and therefore adequate recognition. If they receive favorable judgment, they are likely to be incorporated into the training regulations of the army as a

whole, even to supersede such portions of those regulations as they may contradict. Nor is this all a fine theory of possibilities. The teaching of rifle marksmanship, the most. important duty of a soldier, has just now been entirely revised in this manner as the result of the industry, ingenuity, and insight of one officer. The uniformity is maintained. The system as a whole goes on to its efficient purposes and effective ends, in the army as it should in the colleges.

And now if my publisher friend has anything to say to my argument, I hope it shall be only to repeat the words of Mercutio: ""Tis neither so deep as a well, nor so broad as a church door, but 'twill serve."

THE INFANTRY SCHOOL,

CAMP BENNING, GEORGIA

ELBRIDGE COLBY

QUOTATIONS

THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA AND THE STATE

THE educational program of the University of Pennsylvania has been for some time engaging the serious attention of the board of trustees. For nearly a year a committee on university policy has been studying the subject and is hoping shortly to submit a report.

The investigations of this committee respecting the function of the university have revealed the existence of two distinct schools of thought. One is represented by those who believe that the commonwealth's system of public education should include one or more institutions of higher learning and that the university is, by its traditions and equipment, best fitted to serve the cause of higher education as an institution privately supported and privately controlled. Larger state appropriations and a larger measure of accountability to the state are parts of one of these programs. A great increase in private contributions and a gradual surrender of state aid are characteristic of the other.

The trustees' committee will be greatly aided in its consideration of this issue by the two able reports which have now been referred to the committee by the board. One of these re

ports comes with the practically unanimous indorsement of the Alumni Committee of One Hundred. The other comes from a highly representative committee of the university faculties, other than the faculties of law and medicine. It is the earnest desire of the alumni as represented by their committee to preserve those elements in university training which they believe would be jeopardized by closer state relationship. The committee of the faculties, on the other hand, are confident that the university may in the future fulfill a wider educational mission without danger to the traditions which are a heritage from the past.

Both parties insist that the time has come for a definite choice between these two educational policies. There are those, however, who hold that no present choice need be made, and that the university may properly continue to combine private support with state aid and yet retain the characteristics of institutions which receive no state appropriation whatever.

The trustees' committee has the difficult task of weighing all these educational considerations against one another and of estimating the probable financial result which would follow from the adoption of one course or the other.

Since, however, many of the views entertained by loyal sons of the university are absolutely irreconciliable with one another, the final report of the committee to the board will necessarily make a heavy draft upon the largemindedness of those who will disagree with its recommendations. - Statement by George Wharton Pepper, chairman of the trustees' committee on university policy.

A GREAT opportunity faces the University of Pennsylvania of becoming the actual as well as historical keystone of the educational arch of the commonwealth. It is one that can not be passed by if the institution is to live up to its older ideals and the natural and logical expansions of its present organization. As George Wharton Pepper has very well said in his statement concerning the grave problem confronting the board of trustees, in view of