A Woman of the World | Page 7

and if you did,
that would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural
voices need a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned.
You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an
Indian princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a

Midway Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and
your memory is remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and
your knowledge of grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you
to pass the examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little
brushing up and study. Then, with the political influence of your
father's old friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position.
I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you once
saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to
buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we
were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another
department, purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and
made a surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost.
Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though
the world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of
good seamstresses ever exists.
Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town,
announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), and
launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your
savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger
stock, and higher prices.
You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence
before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and needle,
lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a woman
succeed in this line of endeavour.
But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have
almost decided--that of teaching--you ask.
I will tell you why.
Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private
schools is the most important one on earth.
It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, since

the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, and
where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to
influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few
perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many
poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling.
A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their dependence,
their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed characters
should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their many and
varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, well-bred, and
interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to all others. You
adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A stupid child
irritates you.
You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering
information, but you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it.
You expect others to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will
make you unsympathetic and impatient as a teacher. You have no
conception of the influence a teacher exerts upon children in public
schools. You were educated in private schools and at home, I know. I
attended the country public school, and to this day I can recall the
benefits and misfortunes which resulted to me from association with
different teachers. Children are keenly alive to the moods of teachers
and are often adepts in mind-reading.
A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the
children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in
watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a
composition grow under his touch.
An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should
be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker
creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, politeness to
associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness and refinement
of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who loves to teach,
without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, and a scarcely
hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your demeanour toward the
majority of the untrained little savages given to your charge in a public

school. You have not the love of humanity at large in your heart, nor
the patience and perseverance to make you take an optimistic view in
the colossal work of developing the minds of children. Therefore it
seems to me almost a sin for