Miss James was a strict teacher who kept her word and was both feared and respected by her pupils. Technically she was a good teacher, too; that is, she knew how to present a subject to the child mind, to organize and emphasize the vital points in a lesson. There was apparently no reason why the children of the eighth grade room should not accomplish as much as the individual ability of each child would permit. [Sidenote: Interrupting the Studious] But they were not doing it. Mildred, who had gotten averages of 90 in most subjects throughout the seventh grade, was hovering just above the passing mark. The same was true to a lesser degree of others, and there was a continuous effort on the part of Miss James, the teacher, to suppress small naughtinesses in children who had good records for previous years. The children never finished tasks in the time assigned and the work done was mediocre in quality. Miss James did not realize how badly things were going until Mildred’s mother presented the case to her. It was just after the monthly issue of report cards. Mildred’s card showed some unusually low marks—one that was far below passing grade. Mildred was a conscientious girl and could not herself understand why she failed to do as good work as she had done the year before. She knew she worked hard but she never seemed to accomplish results. Things always managed to happen just so that she had to skip over the last few paragraphs of her history lesson in a hurry, and look up all her reading words at recess because she had no other time to spend on them. When she showed her card to her mother, bitter tears of hurt pride were in her eyes, for in the past there had never been anything but commendation at home when she brought home her month’s record. Her mother, being a wise woman, drew her little daughter to her and asked: “What’s the matter, dear? Father and I know you don’t waste your time at school. There must be a reason for these low marks. Is it that Miss James is unfair? Doesn’t she give you what you deserve to get?” “No,” sobbed Mildred. “It isn’t that. She marks higher than Miss Johnson did last year. I really don’t deserve to get any more than this. I do well enough on tests when I can study up, but I don’t do good work every day.” And Mildred cried out her trouble in her mother’s arms. That lady resolved to visit Miss James the next day and have a serious talk with her. Miss James had seen that the eighth grade was doing uncommonly poor work and had cast about in her mind for the reason. She had shortened lessons until she was in danger of not complying with the schedule, and she had watched with an eagle eye for inattention and laziness. When Mildred’s mother pointed out the contrast between this year’s and last year’s work she was forced to admit that Mildred was always busy and was by no means a dull pupil. What was the trouble? She decided to watch more closely than before the events in her school-room.