18
Closing Exercises of the Term
Each year, it was the custom to allow those who completed the course of primary study with more than the average success the privilege of remaining for more than the prescribed number of terms and receiving a higher education. This consisted of a three years’ course, including advanced lessons in geography, grammar, arithmetic, rhetoric, physiology, philosophy, chemistry, and algebra. This term a class of five persons—two young gentlemen and three young ladies—would complete this three years’ course of study and receive diplomas. Preparations for the graduating exercises had been in progress for some time. The original essays which they had been required to prepare for the occasion had been written, and the writers, by daily practice, were trying to acquire a graceful and easy style of delivery.
Preparations for examination were also being made. This year, as the superintendent announced one morning, the examination was to be conducted in a different manner from that of the preceding year. The graduating class and the higher primary classes were to write the questions given them by their teachers, and also their own answers to these questions, on sheets of notepaper furnished for the purpose. Twenty-five questions in each study pursued during the term were to be asked and answered.
Meanwhile the lower primary classes were to be examined under the eye of the superintendent, in much the same way as the previous year. There were some who did not like the idea of having every item of their examination on paper, but the decrees of the superintendent, which were wise and judicious, must be obeyed. There was only one sure way to conquer this dislike, and that was to be so thoroughly prepared for the work as not to fear the results. Some of the pupils sensibly resolved to study still more diligently than they had been doing and to fix the hard lessons firmly, right side up, in their minds. But others—and these were the more numerous—being disinclined to make any great exertions, and apparently thinking that knowledge was not worth the winning if there was no “royal road” to it, concluded that they need not try to pass a very creditable examination. So they went over their lessons in a manner of easy indifference that did not promise to bring them very high-credit marks. Thus they allowed the time to glide by, and, almost before they were aware of it, the day upon which examination was to be begun had arrived.
After the service in the chapel had ended on the morning of this particular day, the classes proceeded to their respective schoolrooms. After some hasty glances over the pages of textbooks, taken by some of the pupils in order to fix some principles of knowledge more firmly in memory, the books were all gathered up and laid away, and slates, pens, ink, paper, etc., were arranged ready for use.
The teachers, in their different rooms, then began simultaneously writing selected questions to be answered. Meanwhile anxious eyes read each question as it was written, fearing lest some puzzling question, the answer to which might have slipped the memory, should be asked. A sense of relief was felt when question after question proved to be such as could be answered correctly. But as the work advanced, almost everyone met with difficulties, some giving up the attempt to answer certain questions in despair; others, after close thought, happily recalling the correct answers.
The examination of some of the classes extended through three or four days, while that of others was completed in less time. The examination papers were conveyed to the superintendent, who, in turn, conveyed them to the examining committees composed of the teachers, who read each one and marked it according to the number of mistakes made. A perfectly correct paper was marked 100. When one mistake was discovered, and no more, the paper was marked 99; and so on. Some of the examination papers showed quite commendable results and were evidence that the writers had studied diligently and taken care to do their work well. Others were almost equally censurable—manifesting, as they did, a lack of care and close application. At last all of the large number of papers had been read, and the mistakes noted down. Next came the work of making out reports of the standing of pupils. This was done in a manner previously stated.
Very near the close of the term all the pupils enjoyed a pleasant social party, at which strawberries, cakes, and candy were served and partaken of with great relish.
Then came what was, to some, the most momentous event of the term—the graduating exercises. The pupils, and a number of visitors, upon entering the chapel on the morning when these exercises were to take place, found the candidates for academic honors seated in a row on the platform. The ladies were all dressed in white, with small bouquets of gay-colored flowers fastened at the waist; in their hands they each held a lovely bouquet of flowers fresh from the greenhouse. The gentlemen were dressed in black, with gay buttonhole bouquets displayed on the coat lapel. Each had also been presented with a large bouquet of cut flowers.
The exercises were opened by a short address from the superintendent. The name of the lady who was to lead in the exercises was called, and she arose from her seat, advanced a few steps, bowed—first to the superintendent and then to the assembly—and then, with the fingers of her right hand, she spelled out her subject and proceeded in signs to convey the thoughts of her essay to the minds of the silent throng. Meanwhile her teacher, standing in front of the platform, translated the silent language of signs into the vocal language of speech.
That essay ended, the young lady again bowed to the assembly and resumed her seat.
The name of one of the gentlemen was next called, and, rising from his seat in obedience to the summons, he took one or two long strides forward, made a motion of greeting, first with one hand and then with the other, in order to include the whole of the assembly. This motion of greeting, by the way, is much like throwing kisses, and has sometimes been mistaken for that by persons who do not know the deaf and dumb sign language. But it is used by the deaf and dumb only to express “good day,” “how do you do,” and kindred greetings. A sign almost similar to it is employed to express “thanks.”
After this greeting he spelled out the subject of his address, and then in ponderous signs delivered it, the teacher, as before, translating the signs into spoken language.
When he had finished and taken his seat, the name of another lady was called. As she arose, it was noticed that she was above medium height; and the erect manner in which she held herself made her appear very tall. She bowed, first to the superintendent and then to the assembly, as the other lady had done. She then carefully spelled out the subject of her composition, and in graceful, comprehensive signs gave the thoughts contained in her theme.
Next came the other gentleman’s turn. When his name was called he came forward quietly, gave the same sort of a greeting as the former gentleman had done, and proceeded with his essay in the usual way.
The remaining lady—the last of the number—was next called. Like the lady last referred to, she was also above medium height, and she had a rather haughty bearing. There seemed to be a tinge of hauteur even in her manner of delivering her essay.
When she had resumed her seat, the superintendent arose, and, requesting the candidates to rise, he addressed them in a few parting words of friendly counsel and encouragement, reminding them that their time in that school was at an end, and that they were about to leave its shelter and go their way out into the wide world. He begged them to remember the good lessons they had learned while there and to try to profit by them. “You may meet,” said he, “with trials and temptations; but try always to do right, trusting God constantly for strength and guidance.” Then he commended their efforts to acquire an education and spoke of the happy results. After that address he presented each with a diploma.
The graduating exercises were now at an end, and the work of giving the reports of standing to each of the other pupils was commenced. That ceremony being ended, prayer was offered in which blessings were invoked for all, and the assembly dispersed.
The afternoon was spent in making preparations for the homeward journey. The thought of again beholding the loved ones at home filled many hearts with joy. Today there seemed to be no theme which they considered worthy of discussion save that of home and home pleasures. It has been truly said, “There is no place like home, be it ever so humble.” Especially is the truth of this felt by children. Happy are they, then, if their homes are made bright and beautiful by God’s Holy Spirit ruling in the hearts of the household. Such homes are as the gate to the beautiful home in heaven, which is lighted by the glory of God and of the Lamb. It is sad to think that all have not such homes. Some of them live in homes whose doors are never opened to God’s Spirit—in which there is no place reserved for the pure and loving Jesus, no hour devoted to his service. Such homes must always have a gloom hovering over them. There can never be so much heartfelt joy and real happiness in them as in the homes where Jesus is always an honored and often-present guest—nay, more, a constantly abiding presence.
It need not be thought strange if children, brought up in homes from which God’s word and the blessed influence of Jesus are excluded, should wander farther and farther away from the guiding lights of the Gospel, sent to direct the feet of all anxious seekers to the safe and happy shelter of the Father’s home on high, until they are lost forever. Children are very easily influenced by the examples set by older people. How very necessary it is, then, that father and mother, and, in fact everyone who comes in contact with children, especially deaf-mute children, should strive constantly by their own conduct to set good examples for them to follow.
But I have digressed a little. It was the custom to furnish those pupils who were much in need of some articles of wearing apparel, etc., with what they needed and to charge the bill to parents. If for some reason they could not pay it, the county from which the pupil was sent was required to do so. Knowing this, Carrie Raymond and Julia Keene, on this last afternoon of the term, went up to the matron’s room to ask for new hats to wear home. Various needful articles had been distributed to such of the pupils as had made their wants known several days since; Carrie and Julia should have asked then but had neglected doing so. So now, in answer to their requests, the matron said, “I have none to give you, and your old hats will be good enough.” And, without giving them time to reply, she shut the door.
Poor girls, what could they do! Carrie knew that if she forced herself into the matron’s presence once more and tried to explain how her hat had been sent home to be remodeled and retrimmed, and how she had been vainly expecting it to be sent back to her as her father had said it should be, she would be scolded. And she would rather go without a hat than take a severe scolding along with it. As for Julia, she had torn her old hat up. What were they to do? They would not go home bareheaded; and as the company of pupils with which they were going was to start very early the next morning, some sort of headgear must be secured speedily. Carrie got her old brown calico sunbonnet, mended a rip in it, and decided that it would have to be worn in lieu of anything better; Julia was given an old sun hat.
Before daylight the following morning, a number of the pupils, including Julia and Carrie, were gathered in the library ready to start for the depot. Several persons peered curiously into the brown sunbonnet to see whose head was inside. Carrie took this scrutiny bravely.
As the company were making their way through the dim and, for the most part, deserted streets, Victor Walling came to Carrie’s side and asked her if she thought her father wished him to work on his farm again during the summer. “Yes,” Carrie replied. So, taking Carrie’s bundle, the two walked on together, talking as well as the shadows of approaching day would permit.
A walk of about two miles, almost all the way over paved streets, brought them to the depot. Carrie was glad it was dark, as that fact prevented many from seeing her sunbonnet. The gas jets, twinkling like stars here and there throughout the vast building known as the “Grand Union Depot,” looked very pretty, but there was not much time to look about, as the train soon arrived. Carrie, upon entering the cars, concluded that she could dispense with the services of her bonnet for a while. She therefore took it off and placed it out of sight. Her home was only about thirty-nine miles away, and it was yet early morning when her station was reached.
The family had but just finished breakfast when she and Victor Walling reached the home. They were surprised to see them home so early, not expecting them till evening. Rev. Mr. W, the dearly loved pastor of the family, had intended to take the next train eastward and bring Carrie home in the evening.