A STORY FROM NEBRASKA, BY MRS. SARAH J. HOAGLAND
One spring found me in Nebraska teaching a school of German and Bohemian children, only two of whom spoke English. I boarded with a German family who lived about a mile from the school. In our walks to and from school I taught the children English. They and their father were born in Nebraska, but at first none of them could speak English so that I could understand it, although I understood some of their German.
The oldest boy--ten years old--lanky, with awkward gait, and fair, straight-standing hair, had a dogged, sullen look. It was a "home" look, especially when the father was around, but it left when he was trying to tell about birds or other interesting things. His telling me that he intended to work in town as soon as possible gave me a peep into his heart as regarded home. It was not a happy home. The father often drank, and at such times he was harsh and cruel. The mother was meek and subdued. She never had known how to do good housekeeping. She told me that when a girl in Germany, being large and strong, she had had to work in the fields instead of learning housework.
The farm was run down; the house was bare and unhomelike. The father's voice was often raised in upbraiding in "Low Dutch." He often had the children rounded up for punishment for starting fires or other mischief. The seven-year-old boy was more efficient, either in the home or out, than the ten-year-old boy. I noticed that he had a better head and intelligence. His efficiency was due to this, not to any better training.
The mother often cried over the brutality of the father to the oldest boy. I determined to study the situation, and I found a remedy. I learned that the father could do practically nothing in arithmetic. He had attended school for his confirmation--a little reading in German being the only apparent result. So I taught the boy arithmetic, and after I had worked with him two hours every night for several months, he could do addition better than his father. It was wonderful to see the pride and dawning respect on the father's face as the boy figured correctly the weight of many wagon-loads of grain lately taken to the elevator. I knew then that the unreasonable whipping would tend to stop. I seldom see a father unreasonable with a boy he can be proud of at school. So the sky was clear for a time.