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When the queue of weeping babes had been sternly led out by the Corporal something like peace descended upon the room but there could be no work for the moment because the hands were too dirty. Cooeperation was strictly Froebelian so I selected with an eagle eye several assistants from the group–the brightest-eyed, best-tempered, and cleanest. With their help I arranged the seats, the older children at the back tables and the babies in the front. Classification was difficult as many of them did not know their names, their ages, their sexes, nor their addresses, but I had succeeded in getting a little order out of chaos by the time the Corporal appeared again.

“They’ve all stopped cryin’ but Hazel Golly, and she ran when I wa’n’t lookin’ and got so far I couldn’t ketch her; anyway she ain’t no loss for I live next door to her.–What’ll we do next?”

“Scrub!” I said firmly. “I want to give them some of the easiest work, two kinds, but we can’t touch the colored cards until all the hands are clean.–Shall we take soap and towels and all go down into the yard where the sink is, children, and turn up our sleeves and have a nice wash?” (Some of the infants had doubtless started from home in a tolerable state of cleanliness but all signs had disappeared en route).

The proposition was greeted amiably. “Anything rather than sit still!” is the mental attitude of a child under six!

“I told you just how dirty they’d be,” murmured the Corporal. “I know ’em; but I never expected to get this good chance to scrub any of ’em.”

“It’s only the first day;–wait till next Monday,” I urged.

“I shan’t be here to see it next Monday morning,” my young friend replied. “We can’t bury Uncle every week!” (This with a sigh of profound regret!)

Many days were spent in learning the unpronounceable names of my flock and in keeping them from murdering one another until Froebel’s justly celebrated “law of love” could be made a working proposition. It was some time before the babies could go down stairs in a line without precipitating one another head foremost by furtive kicks and punches. I placed an especially dependable boy at the head and tail of the line but accidentally overheard the tail boy tell the head that he’d lay him out flat if he got into the yard first, a threat that embarrassed a free and expeditious exit:–and all their relations to one another seemed at this time to be arranged on a broad basis of belligerence. But better days were coming, were indeed near at hand, and the children themselves brought them; they only needed to be shown how, but you may well guess that in the early days of what was afterwards to be known as “The Kindergarten Movement on the Pacific Coast,” when the Girl and her Kingdom first came into active communication with each other, the question of discipline loomed rather large! Putting aside altogether the question of the efficiency, or the propriety, of corporal punishment in the public schools, it seems pretty clear that babies of four or five years should be spanked by their parents if by anyone; and that a teacher who cannot induce good behavior in children of that age, without spanking, has mistaken her vocation. However, it is against their principles for kindergartner’s to spank, slap, flog, shake or otherwise wrestle with their youthful charges, no matter how much they seem to need these instantaneous and sometimes very effectual methods of dissuasion at the moment.

There are undoubtedly times when the old Adam (I don’t know why it shouldn’t be the Old Eve!) rises in one’s still unregenerate heart, and one longs to take the “low road” in discipline; but the “high road” commonly leads one to the desired point without great delay and there is genuine satisfaction in finding that taking away his work from a child, or depriving him of the pleasure of helping his neighbors, is as great a punishment as a blow.