The play deals with a group of school children just entering the age of puberty,--imaginative beings speculating about the mysteries of life. _Wendla_, sent to her grave by her loving but prudish mother, is an exquisite, lovable child; _Melchior_, the innocent father of _Wendla's_ unborn baby, is a gifted boy whose thirst for knowledge leads him to inquire into the riddle of life, and to share his observations with his school chums,--a youth who, in a free and intelligent atmosphere, might have developed into an original thinker. That such a boy should be punished as a moral pervert, only goes to prove the utter unfitness of our educators and parents. _Moritz_, _Melchior's_ playfellow, is driven to suicide because he cannot pass his examinations, thanks to our stupid and criminal system of education which consists in cramming the mind to the bursting point. Wedekind has been accused of exaggerating his types, but any one familiar with child life knows that every word in "The Awakening of Spring" is vividly true. The conversation between _Melchior_ and _Moritz_, for instance, is typical of all boys not mentally inert. _Melchior._ I'd like to know why we really are on earth! _Moritz._ I'd rather be a cab-horse than go to school!--Why do we go to school?--We go to school so that somebody can examine us!--And why do they examine us?--In order that we may fail. Seven must fail, because the upper classroom will hold only sixty.--I feel so queer since Christmas.--The devil take me, if it were not for Papa, I'd pack my bundle and go to Altoona, to-day! _Moritz._ Do you believe, Melchior, that the feeling of shame in man is only a product of his education? _Melchior._ I was thinking over that for the first time the day before yesterday. It seems to me deeply rooted in human nature. Only think, you must appear entirely clothed before your best friend. You wouldn't do so if he didn't do the same thing.--Therefore, it's more or less of a fashion. _Moritz._ Have you experienced it yet? _Melchior._ What? _Moritz._ How do you say it? _Melchior._ Manhood's emotion? _Moritz._ M--'hm. _Melchior._ Certainly. _Moritz._ I also ... _Melchior._ I've known that for a long while!--Almost for a year. _Moritz._ I was startled as if by lightning. _Melchior._ Did you dream? _Moritz._ Only for a little while--of legs in light blue tights, that strode over the cathedral--to be correct, I thought they wanted to go over it. I only saw them for an instant. _Melchior._ George Zirschnitz dreamed of his mother.