Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Women philanthropists -- Fiction
“Then within there shall be a dozen immense rooms connected by
folding-doors, with sand heaps and swings and blocks for the delight of
the gutter child, too old to be in the cradle and too young to be in
school. From morning until night, if he behaves himself, he shall be
sheltered and warm and happy under the charge of some good woman. At
night these rooms shall be filled with older boys and girls learning the
use of tools, sawing, planing, hammering, and finding it better fun to
vent their energies in manufacturing something which they can take home
for their own use than in playing tag around the ash-barrels on the
corner.”
“What, would you have boys and girls together?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said Mildred; “they would be together on the street, and
why not here?”
“But what is the use of a girl learning carpentering?” I asked. “I
should think she might much better learn sewing. Besides, girls can’t do
it, and I don’t believe they would like to, if they could.”
“In regard to that, you don’t know those girls so well as I do. They
will sit by a smoky lamp in a close room and grow round-shouldered and
near-sighted in crocheting edging and working blue cats on cardboard;
but as to plain sewing, they think it a bore. After a day at school or
in the shop they don’t want to sit demurely on a bench and ‘backstitch’
and sew ‘over and over.’ Then, too, a course in carpentry would do more
for them physically than a course at the gymnasium. There is no danger
that city girls will not walk enough at all times; what they lack is
development of arms and chest. Moreover, this is not an experiment. I
once visited a summer class in carpentering for girls at the Tennyson
Street school in Boston, and I can assure you I haven’t forgotten the
neat book-racks and little tables those girls of fourteen were making
for themselves, nor the good time they were having in doing it, either.
Such muscle as they were developing! However, there can be cooking
classes and sewing classes too, if they want them, though my House
Beautiful is not to be primarily a manual training school. The city may
provide that for the child; but I want to do what it cannot do, and that
is to give innocent amusement and a bit of beauty to lives that know
nothing of it.
“So above these rooms is to be a great auditorium arranged like an
amphitheatre, and capable of seating comfortably three thousand people.
There shall be no cushions, and no need of them, for every seat shall be
planned with reference to the human figure, and will require no padding
to insure absolute comfort.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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