The Battle with the SlumRiis, Jacob A. (Jacob August)
History
The Battle with the Slum
Riis, Jacob A. (Jacob August)
Poor; Poor -- New York (State) -- New York; Tenement houses -- New York (State) -- New York
Sometimes, when I see my little boy hugging himself with delight at the
near prospect of the kindergarten, I go back in memory forty years and
more to the day when I was dragged, a howling captive, to school, as a
punishment for being bad at home. I remember, as though it were
yesterday, my progress up the street in the vengeful grasp of an
exasperated servant, and my reception by the aged monster--most fitly
named Madame Bruin--who kept the school. She asked no questions, but led
me straightway to the cellar, where she plunged me into an empty barrel
and put the lid on over me. Applying her horn goggles to the bunghole,
to my abject terror, she informed me, in a sepulchral voice, that that
was the way bad boys were dealt with in school. When I ceased howling
from sheer fright, she took me out and conducted me to the yard, where a
big hog had a corner to itself. She bade me observe that one of its ears
had been slit half its length. It was because the hog was lazy, and
little boys who were that way minded--zip! she clipped a pair of
tailor's shears close to my ear. It was my first lesson in school. I
hated it from that hour.
The barrel and the hog were never part of the curriculum in any American
boy's school, I suppose; they seem too freakish to be credited to any
but the demoniac ingenuity of my home ogre. But they stood for a
comprehension of the office of school and teacher which was not patented
by any day or land. It is not so long since the notion yet prevailed
that the schools were principally to lock children up in for the
convenience of their parents, that we should have entirely forgotten it.
Only the other day a clergyman from up the state came into my office to
tell of a fine reform school they had in his town. They were very proud
of it.
"And how about the schools for the good boys in your town?" I asked,
when I had heard him out. "Are they anything to be proud of?"
He stared. He guessed they were all right, he said, after some
hesitation. But it was clear that he did not know.
[Illustration: The Old.]
[Illustration: The New.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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