In the fall of 1876, as already stated, I went back to the Kenosha high school as a teacher. I had been a learner there for several years, and this relationship was not discontinued or crowded out by the new one, but instead, was quickened and strengthened; for the great teacher, experience, was now taking a hand in the process, and she did not neglect her job; but my lessons were not chiefly from textboooks. The principal of the Kenosha high school was Thomas P. Maryatt, who had succeeded George Bannon in the preceding January, when the latter was released to accept a position in the Chicago school system. Mr. Maryatt had completed, by a year at Dartmouth, a college course begun in Chicago University. He was a scholarship man, of kindly nature and even disposition, who had high leads of using the school--its work, its discipline, its exercises--as an agency for character education, not however thought of then as that, but in effect just that, as I see it now. He belonged to that rare class of teachers described in a previous chapter as "Developers of Souls." Although I did not fully appreciate him then, I know now that it was a fortunate thing for me to have had my first experience as a high school teacher under the guidance of such a fine man. His wife and I became fast friends. My position was that of second assistant, and my salary was $400. I was elected "subject to the condition heretofore agreed upon, that new teachers are engaged at first for only one term on trial." The first assistant was Miss Anna Gillett, whom, as previously related at some length, I had known as my teacher in grammar school and high school, and who, after being out for awhile, was again at her old post. The office of superintendent, then chiefly secretarial, and demanding only part-time service, was still held by the Rev. Henry M. Simmons. The president of the board was Emory L. Grant a business man, mentioned in the previous chapter as a member of the first graduating class of the Kenosha high school in 1861, who out of clear, undoubted interest in the public school cause, and that alone, responded time after time to the call for service on the board of education, and who, in his quiet, refined way, helped to guide and guard that cause on its course of slow improvement. I had a rather difficult time that first year. I was twenty years old. There were in the upper classes girls and boys who were in the high school two years before when I was a senior, and who, in spite of my dignified pose, remembered the fact, and were somewhat lacking in respect for my authority as a teacher. There was, naturally enough, on account of my promotion, considerable jealousy felt by a few of my former teacher associates and their families, some of whom predicted failure and seemed rather anxious to prove themselves true prophets. Of course, I did not know enough to teach youth as well as they should be taught, but some people seemed to forget that I had made an effort--rather exceptional at that time--to improve my qualifications and that I deserved a little credit for that. My sensitiveness to the attitude of pupils towards me was barometric in revealing to me the atmospheres of homes, and I remember telling my invalid father, to whom I turned for council after weary, troubled days, that I was sure that I could tell, when pupils entered my classroom in the morning, the nature of the breakfast-table talk concerning me. "Yes," he would say, "it's too bad that parents are not wiser about what they say before children; but never mind, do the best you can and the children will come round." Although the sensitiveness remained with me as a personal characteristic, my philosophical father helped me to realize that in dealing with, folks, the thing called human nature had to be reckoned with, and that some folks seem to possess an undue amount of it. It is Walt Whitman who in his "Stronger Lessons" raises the question, "Have you learned lessons only of those who admire you?" and says: "Have you not learned great lessons from those who reject you and brace themselves against you? or who treat you with contempt or dispute the passage with you?" My reply is, "I have," and the course of lessons began in earnest during my twentieth year. There was another cause that unfavorably affected the order in my classes. It was whose operation is illustrated, if not explained, by a law of physics, that action and reaction are the same and in opposite directions. In the recitation room adjoining mine (see the door at the right in the picture of the old assembly room) the strictest order prevailed. Miss Gillett still awed all pupils who came into her presence. When the repression experienced there was removed, and they came into my classes, the effect on youthful spirits was like that following the removal of a cork from a bottle of an effervescing substance. I remember asking a boy, whom I knew to be kindly disposed towards me, why he behaved so badly in my classes. His reply was: "I just have to do something, or I'd bust, after being afraid for an hour to breathe in Miss Gillett's room." When a recess intervened, and pupils could get relief by yelling cavorting about the playground, they settled down to work more quickly. This mention implies no blame of my old teacher, who I think, sympathized with me in these early trials. The school was not large, the total attendance being under one hundred. The first year class was then as now, much the largest and the higher grades dwindled away to a senior class of ten or less. Three teachers--the principal who taught most of the time, and his two assistants--did the work required to carry out a four-year course of study. Some grade supervision was also expected of the principal. Specialization existed to this extent--the first assistant taught the languages, Latin and German, and the principal most of the sciences. Such an adjunct as a laboratory had not yet been introduced. Mr. Maryatt, I remember, taught each high school grade in at least one subject, thus very wisely "contacting" (to use a modern, high-caste pedagogic term) every pupil in the school. A half-century ago, a high school assistant teacher's daily program contained no such thing as a "free period," free in the sense that no class appeared for regular recitation, and that he or she (usually the latter) had time then to consult with pupils, prepare work, and perform other necessary school duties. On the contrary, a school board rule is remembered to have existed for a while, forbidding a teacher to read test or examination papers during school hours. To the second assistant came first year subjects with those from other grades when necessary or expedient. When estimating a teacher's load the size of classes and consequent quantity of written work for her or his reading and correction, must be reckoned in. I carried a heavy load. As ideals developed, and my experience at the Oshkosh Normal School had encouraged that, the conscientious planning and preparation for seven classes in different subjects, and the entailed written exercises in some of them, meant regular evening and often night work after my busy days. These facts are only mentioned for comparison with conditions today when a high school to preserve its academic reputation and have its graduates accredited in higher institutions must not overburden teachers in the way just described. And this change has come about not primarily from consideration of the teacher's rights, but the pupils rights, to be spared from the consequences of exhausted or depleted nervous energy in those who essay to teach them. Too little recreation and extreme weariness are recalled as shading these and later years of high school teaching; but, fortunately for the boys and girls, and for myself, I was possessed of abundant health, and came through in spite of it all without breaking, but not, after these first experiences, greatly in love with teaching. Mr. Simmons and Mr. Maryatt became close friends and co�perated in an important and much needed piece of work, a new course of study for the high school. Mr. Simmons reported to the board that the last printed course of study had come out in 1864 and that "none of the late graduating classes had exactly followed or been able to follow it." Here I will record an event in the school progress of Kenosha which, although affecting high school affairs, was a matter of interest to me at the time. In 1878 the need of a new ward school became pressing. After casting about for a suitable site for it, a lot in the third ward on Ann Street, now Sheridan Road, was purchased for that purpose. The money used for the erection of the building has some historical associations worth recording. One of the most distinguished of the early citizens of Kenosha was Hon. Charles Durkee. For two terms, 1849-58, he served at Washington as a member of the House of Representatives from the first district of Wisconsin, and in 1855 became senator from our state. He was a pioneer abolitionist, and a friend of Charles Sumner. After the Civil War he was appointed by President U. S. Grant territorial governor of Utah. His will specified a bequest of $5,000 to the board of education of Kenosha for the purchase of a telescope for the public schools. In 1877, the need for a new school building was greater than that for a telescope, and under the leadership of Joseph V. Quarles, who was then the president of the school board, action was begun to secure the Durkee legacy for this more practical purpose. Mrs. Durkee, the widow, then living in retirement at Kenosha, consented to the change, and Franklin H. Head, the executor of the Durkee estate announced in the board meeting of June 5, 1877 that the legacy would be payable to the schools of Kenosha on September 1 of that year. It was voted by the board to name it the "Charles Durkee School," and to have a stone so inscribed placed in the gable of the building, and another with "Erected in 1877 from funds bequeathed by Hon. Chas. Durkee" placed in front over the door. That four-room building, opened in 1878, gave place in 1905 to a larger one costing eight times as much as which is known today as the "Durkee School." What became of the old inscribed stone I do not know, but I hope that these paragraphs may serve to perpetuate the memory of one of the few donors to the cause of public education of Kenosha. The minutes of the school board of that year show that the getting of the money for the school was an easy task compared with that of getting the building honestly and properly constructed, another instance of the lowest bidder not turning out to be the highest economy, and the Durkee School was not the last instance of this at Kenosha. My reason for mentioning this is simply to make comparison between then and now in the way the school board problem of schoolhouse construction is handled. While this Durkee School building problem was being worked out, I was teaching my second year in the high school, with an encouraging advance in salary of $50, and, I trust with an improvement in service rendered that justified the increase. At the end of the school year, Mr. Maryatt resigned, and so did I. Our purposes in so doing were alike in that we both had decided to change vocations, but quite different as to the calling chosen. Mr. Maryatt intended going to Chicago to begin preparation for the practice of law; I intended staying at Kenosha, and beginning married life. Another difference may be mentioned--Mr. Maryatt has honorable mention in the school records as follows: "Resolved that as Prof. T. P. Maryatt now closes his relations with us as Principal, we hereby express our esteem of him as an accomplished scholar, an earnest and faithful teacher and a true gentleman." I find no special mention of my withdrawal. An incident in connection with the commencement exercises of that year always comes to mind at this point in my reminiscences, my sense of the ridiculous seeming to give such experiences a very ready associational recall. This incident also illustrates the incongruous combination that a popular election sometimes brings together in a public board from wards differently populated and differently motivated. There had been elected that spring, from the second ward, a man named Michael Gorman. He was short statured, of Irish extraction, genial, fluent of speech, not always grammatical or elegant; but of greater consequence, he was reputed as honest. He was known by everybody in town, for he was the driver of the American Express wagon. Although that occupation was of itself a guarantee of at least some education, his qualifications for school board membership seemed somewhat questionable--a rather common situation, however, and one that as time went on, Kenosha became accustomed to, and one that may have been observed elsewhere--real qualifications for an office being not always determining factors in the election of a candidate for a school board or other office. In the case under consideration, it was literally "for the love of Mike." There were that year eight nice girl graduates, and the exercises were held in the Methodist Church. A crowded house saw the eight girls in their best array, sitting on the pulpit platform, each with bouquets--the gifts of proud relatives and admiring friends--piled about her feet. They presented a display, individually variable as to amount and quality, according to family position and conditions--a showing-off performance now relegated, thanks be! Then, in filed the members of the school board. Mr. Gorman evidently well primed for his first commencement was happy and beamed approval of everything and everybody. Each man wore a rather conspicuous boutonniere which a member of a special committee of girls had pinned on him as he passed through the entry. With great dignity, the men took their seats at the near of the platform. There was a song and then the pastor of the church was called upon for the prayer. The impressive silence that followed the "Amen" was broken by a loud clapping from the school board line--such a vigorous expression as only "the horny hand of toil" and masculine muscles could produce. It was not prolonged, to be sure, but it produced a moment of surprised reaction. Since the master of ceremonies, Mr. Maryatt, was immediately at the front announcing the next number, the audience made less audible its amused feelings, and the embarrassed girls regained their composure. In closing this trivial account, I will say that Mr. Gorman had abundant opportunity to learn the proprieties, since he represented the second ward for ten successive years on the board of education. He served on that annually changing board of eight men with Joseph V. Quarles, A. C. Sinclair, J. B. Starkweather, George D. Head, Ichabod Simmons (father of Z. G. Simmons Sr.), N. G. Bachus, Enoch Van Wie, John Nichol, John T. Yule, S. C. Johnson, J. M. Stebbins, David W. Miller, E. H. Hollister, E. L. Grant, George H. Sager, Dr. A. Farr, O. S. Newell, William Holderness, and John Engelhart. These men are remembered as leading citizens of Kenosha, some of whose names recall outstanding personalities of that decade. There may be some among my readers who knew Mr. Maryatt as teacher or friend, and will be interested to know something of his later history. After completing his law course at Northwestern University, he went West, and settled at Weiser, Washington County, Idaho, where he became active in the promotion of all the best interests of that pioneer community. He worked in and for the schools and was one of the founders of the Idaho Industrial Institute at Weiser. He was judge of the Probate Court of Washington County, and was noted for "his conscientious discharge of public duty in behalf of the bereaved and needy." Other testimonials to his good life and to the esteem in which he was held by the public of all classes, creeds and callings, were sent me by his wife after his untimely death from typhoid fever in 1903.

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