Kitabı oku: «Sunday-School Success», sayfa 12

Chapter XXXIV
The Superintendent's Chance

At the opening of the school the superintendent hasn't half a chance; at the close he has a large chance—as large, in fact, as he is. At the opening the superintendent is merely a master of ceremonies to usher in the work as buoyantly as possible; at the close he is a teacher, the high priest of all the teachers. His work of introduction is important, but far more important is his work of peroration. The last five minutes furnish his chance to gather all the teachings of the hour into one point and press it home.

1. It is his chance. Now or never let him be original. Let him study his talents; some can work best with chalk, some with anecdotes, some with questions, some with exegesis, some with exhortation. Let him get up a specialty for those five minutes and burnish it till it shines. Whatever method he chooses should be filled with his personality and serve to impress his personality upon the school. It is life that tells on life, and the more of himself the superintendent puts into these five minutes the more will this, his chance, prove his success.

2. It is his chance to gather all the teachings of the hour. Not that he will try to "cover the ground" of the entire lesson. In that case his chance would turn out his mischance. He will not try, either, to give something for each class of scholars, for all that he gives must be for all classes. Among all the thoughts of all the departments, primary, intermediate, and senior, there is a single golden thought like a golden thread. These strands he must seize and weave them, in his five minutes, into a golden cord.

3. It is his chance to gather all the teachings of the hour into one point. Probably every teacher in the school has been trying to teach too much. The lesson was intended for a wedge, but they have been using the blunt end. Turn it around. Illustrate the matchless might of simplicity. Do not think that, because the lesson was on the envy of Joseph's brethren, the theme of envy has become hackneyed, and you must talk about Jacob and Reuben and the Midianites and God's overruling providence. If the teachers have worked well, the scholars will be eager for further words on envy; if they have worked poorly, all the more need of a forcible presentation of the main theme.

4. It is his chance to gather all the teachings of the hour into one point and press it home. His will be a lively school in proportion as it influences life. When the moral truths of our lessons are fixed in the life, the facts connected with them will be fixed in the mind. Let the superintendent ask himself, for as many scholars of varied age and character as he can, "How might this lesson change his life, her life, for the coming week—forever?" Put the "snapper" on the hour. Let it be seen that you expect definite results in spirit and conduct.

Some urge that the superintendent should be mute at the close of the lesson hour, lest his words destroy the effect of the teachers' exhortations. To be sure, he may emphasize what they have not emphasized, though even this danger is very slight if the superintendent is careful to seize on the lesson's central thought; but if the impression made by the teacher is endangered by a few earnest words from the superintendent, what will be left of it by the close of the conversation around the dinner-table?

A closing word regarding the superintendent's questions. In no better way than by questions can he win and hold the school's attention. Those given in the various lesson helps are intended to be simply suggestive of possible matter and manner. Five things are essential: (1) that the questions be simple enough to be understood by the youngest; (2) that they lead up to a point valuable enough to interest the oldest; (3) that they can be answered by a few words, preferably by one; (4) that they be presented in a brisk and businesslike way; (5) that prompt answers from all parts of the school together be insisted on, the answer being called for again and again till all have connected themselves with it. Half a dozen such questions should lead up skilfully to the main lesson of the hour, which should receive brief but pointed application by anecdote, blackboard, or exhortation.

All this is a high ideal. "To attain it will require," you say, "much more than five minutes." You are right, Brother Superintendent: five minutes before the school, but one hour or even two hours of prayerful preparation at home. However, it is your chance. Do not ignobly lose it.

Chapter XXXV
The Sunday-School and the Weather

A rainy day is the best test of a Sunday-school, and its best opportunity.

For the scholars it is a sieve, separating the zealous workers from the careless ones.

For the general school it is an index, since if Christ is not "in the midst" of the few on rainy days, surely the many on sunny days are not wont to gather "in his name."

For the teacher it is a revealing question: "Do you teach for the excitement and praise of crowded benches, or is a single soul, with its issues of life and death, inspiration enough?"

It is the superintendent's chance, because then he learns his staff, the pick, the enthusiastic nucleus, of his school. It is a good day for "setting balls to rolling."

It is the scholar's chance,—his chance to show appreciation of the school by attendance; his chance for help on questions that try his soul.

It is the teacher's chance. He will never draw close to his scholars if not now; never see their nobility or their faults if not through the troubled lens of a rainy day.

It is the opportunity of the general school. Prayer-meeting workers often observe that the meetings held on stormy evenings are always the best, because every attendant feels it his duty to take active part. For the same reason a rainy day brings out the mettle of a Sunday-school. The bashful are impelled to greater boldness, the careless to stricter attention. Responsibilities are thrown upon unwonted shoulders. Many a Sunday-school worker has been developed by rainy days.

Teachers must do their scolding for poor attendance, if ever, on the days of crowded seats, because then only are the truants present. Have nothing but words of good cheer for the few who come on stormy days.

We are often told about preachers who, as a reward and an incentive, wisely preach their best (if they can) on rainy days, to the faithful few. For such days the teacher also must make his highest preparation, because then his work will produce best results; because then he will need to bring most inspiration with him, as he gets none from well-filled seats; because his scholars then not only deserve his best, but, lacking the zest of numbers, need his best to hold their attention; because they will appreciate better what they have come through difficulties to get.

On rainy days there are many late comers, and therefore many fine chances for practical Christianity. Greet them cheerfully, if you must stop your finest exhortation to do it. Such a close will be its most eloquent period.

If you investigate tactfully the absences of rainy days, you will often come upon a truer knowledge of the home life and needs of your scholars than any sunshiny observations could give you.

On rainy days, if ever, scholars should be sure of finding their own teacher; yet, as human nature is, on rainy days there is always necessary some fusion of classes. The teachers of joined classes may do much good or infinite harm. Criticism, expressed or implied, of the plans or precepts of the other teacher, is a poison which has few antidotes. If he has been teaching false doctrine, he, not his scholars, is to be told that fact. And, on the contrary, a word of wise praise for whatever of solid acquirement you may see in his scholars, as it comes from an outsider, will discover marvelously their teacher to them, and their possibilities to themselves.

As we need to emphasize the advantages of bad weather, so we need to remember the dangers of fine weather. Now, the teacher must be mindful not to lose the individuals in the crowd, or his teaching sense in the temptation to harangue. Now, the superintendent must remember that his unifying and organizing skill is especially needed. If rainy days are best for study and personal work, fair days, and, above all, hot days, are best for singing and concert drill in reading and questioning.

As our days, so shall our strength be, if we are Christ's, dear Sunday-school workers; but different kinds of days need different kinds of strength.

Chapter XXXVI
A Profitable Picnic

A large number of Sunday-schools are in the habit of holding a picnic every summer. In spite of the countless jests at the expense of the Sunday-school picnic, the custom is in every way commendable. Where can teacher and scholars, superintendent and teachers, better come into that familiar, every-day contact that tells so much of character and for character, than out under the open sky and in the merry meadows? And yet why is it that the very word "picnic" makes most Sunday-school teachers groan, and presents to the superintendent's mind a picture no more delectable than of hot, dusty cars, pushing, quarreling children, red-faced teachers, and lunches seized on by ants?

Of course, in moving so large a body of people, especially of youngsters, many untoward events are to be expected; but nevertheless, when the picnic is not a conspicuous success, there is usually one reason: it was not well planned for. So many managers of picnics are nothing but transportation managers! Getting a reduction of railroad fare, packing and unpacking the lunches, filing the children in and out of the cars,—such details sum up their plans. As for entertainment on the picnic grounds,—why, turn the children loose, and they will take care of that part of it!

On the contrary, he is a wise man that can entertain himself well and profitably for a day without aid from outside. The feat is impossible for most children. How well I remember my own childish miseries on holidays because I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do! On the haphazard plan your picnic will go uproariously for a time, but it will soon "fray out" into a tangle of ennui and quarrels.

In this brief chapter, then, I want to suggest merely one out of many schemes for a profitable picnic. It will include in the day's plans all ages and classes, and afford pleasure for mind and spirit as well as body.

In the first place, arrange with great care a programme of contests. If it is a joint picnic, some of the contests will be between representatives of the Sunday-schools that take part; otherwise, between classes and individuals of the one Sunday-school. Bring in the girls as well as the boys, and the men and women as well as the children. Running, sack-races, three-legged races, pole and rope climbing, boat-races, croquet and tennis matches, base-ball (a game among the old men will cause much amusement), the marching of competing companies, broom or flag drills for the girls, leaping, slow races on the bicycle, throwing the hammer, soap-bubble contests—why, the number of these sports is legion.

Just a few hints:—

Give no prizes, but "honorable mention."

Let the contests be well planned and advertised beforehand, and set the scholars to training for them.

Give every one a printed programme (which may be worked off on a manifolder), and so arrange it that the entire company, if possible, may be spectators of each contest.

Make everything as short and snappy as you can.

Throughout the programme, work in all classes and ages as best you may. Don't, for instance, put all the contests in which the little ones engage in the same part of the day.

In the second place, arrange a literary and religious programme that shall give a spiritual application to all these physical contests. Organize a Sunday-school choir, which, after careful previous practice, will sing some of the many songs that treat the Christian life as a race, or a wrestling, or a battle. Some of the Bible passages of similar tenor should be recited. Poems may be repeated bearing the same lesson. And the brightest of the scholars and teachers, of course not omitting your pastor, will give some very brief little essays or talks along this same line. This part of the day's programme may fitly be placed just after lunch, when in the heat of the day the athletes will wish to rest, and when all will be ready to sit down and listen.

Much will depend on the master of ceremonies for the day. Let him be the jolliest man you can find, but withal a man of deep consecration, who can make all feel that, whether they eat or drink, or play games, or whatever they do, they must do all for the glory of God. In this spirit alone can you hope to have a profitable picnic.

Chapter XXXVII
A Singing Sunday-School

Lifeless singing means, usually, a dead Sunday-school. Many a superintendent might greatly increase the vigor of his school by getting a little snap into the music. Different ways of singing will not of themselves solve the problem, but they will go far toward it. Here are a few methods which will add to the singing the variety that is the spice of it as well as of nearly everything else.

Try reading the song in concert before it is sung. It would puzzle most even of us older folks to tell, after we have sung a hymn, what is in it. Concert reading brings out unsuspected beauties of thought, and the hymn will be sung afterward with fresh zest and with fuller intelligence. The superintendent may vary this plan by reading the stanzas alternately with the school, or the girls may alternate with the boys. Occasionally get a single scholar to read the hymn before the school, or, what is far better, to commit it to memory and recite it.

Indeed, memory hymns, to be committed to memory by the entire school, and sung without the book, will prove very popular. Select songs that are worth learning for their words as well as for their music,—a thing which, alas! cannot be said of all our Sunday-school songs. One memory hymn a month might possibly be achieved, and your children will rapidly grow independent of hymn-books, as their grandsires were.

They may like to vote upon a school hymn for the entire year, and learn it in this way,—one that shall serve as a sort of rallying song throughout the twelvemonth. The various classes, too, may be encouraged to select their own class songs, and to practise them at their class socials. Then, once in a while, the entire school may listen while one or two classes sing their class hymns.

It would do no harm, either, for the superintendent occasionally to bind the children's interest to the singing by asking them to call for their favorites, that the school may sing them. This privilege may be granted to the classes or scholars that have the best record in attendance.

It will add interest to the singing if bits of pleasant information are sometimes given about the authors of our familiar songs. At the opening of the session, for instance, tell something about the blind hymn-writer, Fanny Crosby, and then let all the songs sung that day be by her; or tell a little about Miss Havergal's beautiful life, or give a few bright anecdotes about Dr. S. F. Smith, and then use nothing but their hymns. Some such book as Hezekiah Butterworth's "Story of the Hymns" (New York: The American Tract Society. $1.75), or Duffield's "English Hymns: Their Authors and History" (New York: The Funk & Wagnalls Co. $3), will afford a plentiful supply of biographical material. Once in a while get one of the scholars to read one of these hymn anecdotes, or to tell it in his own words.

Prayer songs—there are many most beautiful ones—may be used as prayers, all heads being bowed while they are sung softly; or they may be read in the same way.

Antiphonal songs are easily arranged. Choose two classes of good singers in distant parts of the room, and let one sing the verses and the other the chorus of some suitable song. A hymn arranged in the form of question and answer, such as "Watchman, tell us of the night," or "Art thou weary, art thou languid?" is very effective when sung in this way, or when read in dialogue, the superintendent taking the questions and the school the answers.

Other dispositions may be made, for the sake of variety. Get the girls to sing the stanzas, and the boys the choruses, or the girls to sing one verse, and the boys the next, all uniting on the choruses; or, let the school to the right of the center alternate in singing with the school to the left. Send a company of singers into another room, with closed doors, and have them sing the chorus as an echo, very softly. Get the teachers to sing the stanzas of some song, while the whole school sings the refrain.

Solos are good once in a while, especially if you make the school the chorus for them. A quartette of picked singers may be introduced very delightfully on occasion, especially if their selection is germane to the lesson topic, and, best of all, if the quartette is chosen from the scholars themselves. The primary department will hugely enjoy singing one of their songs to the main school, and the older scholars will enjoy it quite as heartily.

Possibly a Sunday-school choir might be organized to advantage, the strong singers from among the more mature scholars being banded together to practice new music and lead the singing. School orchestras have been very useful in many churches, the boys being proud to serve the school with violin and cornet.

Most useful, however, in adding zest to the singing, are the simple changes and variations that shrewdly call attention to the old by putting it in a new place, or "putting it" in a new way. For instance, you might call fresh attention to a beautiful song by bidding all sing it without their books, while you "line it out" earnestly and brightly. You might preface a hymn with a sentence or two telling why you think it just the hymn to sing in connection with the day's lesson. You might piece together several verses from different songs, and ask the school to sing them in immediate succession, without prelude or interlude, noting the connection and progress of the thought. You might stimulate the scholars in this and that corner by asking now one class and now another to consider themselves the leaders in the song next to be sung. You might have occasional "new-hymn" days, in which will be sung no song ever tried by the school. You might even steal ten minutes, on very rare occasions, for song services, carefully planned so as to bear effectively on the lesson for the day. The ways are almost endless whereby a music-loving, child-loving superintendent can introduce his two loves to each other.

A few more general suggestions. First, to the organist or pianist. Why do you think it necessary to hammer out an entire piece of music before you let the fidgety children sing it? They already know every note of it, and are not interested in your performance; nor is any one else. They can find the place quite as quickly as you can. Except in the case of new songs, do let us off with the chord, and we'll canonize you as a model of self-restraint and good sense.

Then to the precentor, or whoever is responsible for the time you keep. Why is it so slow? I never could see why hymns should be sung so drawlingly as to make it quite impossible to grasp their thought. Time yourself in singing your next hymn, then read aloud the same hymn, forcing yourself to occupy the same time, and you will see why it is that our singing leaves our minds quite absolute blanks. This grievous fault must be remedied with the children if the singing of hymns is ever to be, to the average grown-up, an intellectual and spiritual as well as a physical occupation.

And, to the same end, why is it that your school can sing readily, even without the book, the first two or three stanzas of so many songs, while every stanza beyond is an unknown land to them? It is because, owing chiefly to the slowness of our ordinary singing, we seldom compass the whole of a hymn. At the close of a well-written hymn is the climax, the thought up to which the whole has led, which binds it all together. Our songs, if they are to get hold upon our minds and lives, must be sung beyond their prelude, sung straight through.

To get hold of minds and lives,—that must be the end sought by all our singing.