come to see that education is the best instrument for regenerating society.

Not individual development, then, the selfish view of Rousseau, not even the harmonious development of all the faculties, the one-sided, somewhat restricted, or undeveloped, view of Pestalozzi and others of his followers, surely not individual efficiency for personal gain, the selfish view of crass materialism, but social efficiency is the present-day motive in education. And the definition of education takes on a different color. Not merely the development of inner life but in conjunction with that or in addition to it, the development in the individual of the power of adjustment to an ever changing social environment. And likewise the school becomes more than a place in which the child can discover himself. Aye, it is the instrument that democracy has fashioned for realizing its broad and humanitarian ideal. Democracy is ever striving for closer and more harmonious relation between its members, a greater degree of social justice, and the school is its efficient means.

These two tendencies, the psychological and the sociological,—only two since the narrow individualistic was never accepted and is now being rapidly eliminated—these two are not antagonistic nor mutually exclusive. The difference is largely in point of view or emphasis. One may say that they are but the two sides of the same shield but the fact remains that there are two sides. There is a difference and the change came as suggested. And the change has modified conditions on the firing line. Ever since Mr. Spencer asked his suggestive question, "what knowledge is of most worth," the question of educational values has been raised and the curriculum has come under close scrutiny. The result has been a modification. The purely linguistic and literary, that which does not function directly for preparation in life and society, is slowly giving way to that which deals with the facts and forces of nature and of social institutions.

Thus far I have tried to make plain the great educational campaign in which we are engaged, as seen on the firing line,—to point out the goal before us, universal education, of course, and social efficiency for each member of the group. That suggests at once as a definition of education, the one made famous by Herbert Spencer more than a half century ago, "Preparation for complete living." That was good as a start in the new direction, but one of the most prominent generals of our educational forces now commanding at the front, John Dewey of Columbia University, has suggested a modification which brings it up to date and gives the key-note of explanation to the tactics now in vogue out there in the front ranks. He says that instead of being the preparation for life, education is life itself. Some without trying to probe deeply into the thought back of the trenchant expression, have said that this was a mere play upon words. But Dewey is not a man who plays with words. What he meant by the statement is that the child is best prepared for life as an adult by living the right kind of life as a child. That is by living a life that has real meaning to him now, a normal natural life, putting forth those activities that spring from within, not merely sitting behind a narrow desk trying to memorize wordy descriptions of complicated facts thought to be useful to him later on. And when we go out and see what they are doing on the firing line we shall see just that being done.

Child Study

But perhaps I should guard against a possible misapprehension. In eliminating the materialistic point of view in individualism—narrow individual development for personal gain—we have not thrown aside the goal of development suggested by Rousseau and Pestalozzi. Advanced educational thought has that prominently in mind—the discovery of the child's latent powers—his possibilities—his tastes—his "bent" and the development of the same. But while with them that was the goal, the end in view, and a somewhat selfish one, even tho not crassly materialistic, it has become, with us, a means to a larger end, namely, social betterment. The child must be known and developed to enable it to be able to contribute its largest quota to the welfare of society.

With this general direction of educational activity made plain, and incidentally the character of the activities along the entire battle front, let us pass to a consideration of a few specific activities that will illustrate the general movement. Let us bear in mind that we have in view, in the first place, the individual child whose tastes and aptitudes we must discover and, on the basis of discovery, whose fullest development, consistent with the rights of others, we must seek. And the reason for this, you know, is that only as this is done and he is prepared to do that kind of work in the world for which his tastes best adapt him—only thus can he be made the most efficient member of society possible. Because, as Plato said, centuries ago, "Society is but the individual writ large"—a collection of individuals. The foundation of all things in social life is the individual.

Now, I'll admit, at once, that that is not the program of the rank and file of the schools. It should be, but it isn't. What the schools are trying to do, in the main, is to teach the children a lot of facts that tradition says would be well for them to know when they become adults, wholly irrespective of the child's present attitude toward these facts—whether or not they have meaning for him. What the high schools are trying to do is to teach the relatively few who survive this grade program, in addition to these elementary tradition-directed facts of knowledge, a lot more of meaningless matter prescribed by the colleges and listed under that alluring title, "entrance requirements." And as a result of these programs the schools are sending altogether too many of their boys and girls into society unacquainted with themselves, and ill-fitted for any useful occupation, and therefore out of sympathy with the serious work of the world. They are misfits in the social and economic world and are obliged to take their places in the ranks of the lowest-paid of unskilled labor—and work up if they can.

Now, what is being done on the firing lines to remedy this situation and to usher in the new day? Well, first, in our normal schools—institutions established and maintained for the simple purpose of preparing young people for teaching children—great emphasis is being placed upon the study of the child. It is felt that only as the teacher understands the child mind and the laws of its development can she direct that development aright. (That's a sensible point of view, isn't it? And yet it is only on the firing line in educational practise that we find it recognized. Without that factor of equipment, the teacher is teaching subjects, not boys and girls.) In many normal schools child study is one of the required subjects—no one may graduate or be recommended for a teaching position who has not taken it. It should be required in all—and will be a little later on. No person should be allowed to occupy the position of teacher of children who has not made such a study—and proved himself efficient in it. Boards of education should demand it even if some normal schools do not yet require it for graduation. It is far and away the most important part of the teacher's professional equipment.

And then in our schools of education and teachers colleges—institutions set apart for preparing teachers for our high schools and for administrative positions—the study of adolescence is receiving increasing attention. The high school boy and the high school girl