Happy School Days
Margaret E. Sangster
1909 
Please choose the chapter you would like to read:
The All-Around Schoolgirl
Pluck, Perseverance and Punctuality
The Unpopular Schoolgirl
Perplexing Studies
The Lessons You Don't Like
Mathematics
How to Write
Examinations
The Unpopular Teacher
The Care of Schoolbooks
The Schoolgirl's Luncheon
Getting Started in the Morning
The All-Around Schoolgirl
In some ways you girls are very much alike; in some others you are different. But there is not one of you who can afford to pass by my counsel that you shall become an all-around scholar.
If I were you I would put the accent, the emphasis, of all my school work on the strong word, endeavor.
I would endeavor everywhere and at all times to do my best. It might be that my best would be less brilliant than the best of some other girl, but for that I should not care. We are never required to use other people's talents. We are responsible only for the use we make of our own. Faithful, diligent work done over and over every day, in the schoolroom, amounts to a great deal more at the end of the year than an occasional spurt in which we make a great advance and after which we fall back into indolence and do almost nothing.
I have seen a girl, and a very nice girl, too, throw her algebra across a room in a fit of despair, declaring that she never could understand it and that she had decided it wasn't worth while any longer to try. I have seen a girl almost in tears over her composition, affirming that she had not a thought in her head and would not know how to express it if she had. I have even known girls whose spelling was atrocious, a perfect disgrace, who calmly stated that correct spelling was beyond them and that their gifts lay in some other direction.
Every teacher has names on her roll over which she frowns and sighs, knowing that they stand for pupils who are quite contented with second-best or third-best marks, and whose rating is away down at D when it ought to be at A. Such girls simply fall down in a heap before the studies they don't like or don't enjoy; the studies that for them mean earnest work and perhaps a hard battle, and they are not ashamed merely to escape failure and be pulled through a rather lenient examination at the close of the term. Elizabeth would not do this as a matter of course, nor would Evelyn or Kathleen or Dorothy. I hope, and indeed I know, that you are far above such slip-shod methods of study, but girls with names just as lovely are often enough deficient along these lines. It happens in this way. We do not know the real value of golden talents.
Suppose we divide our talents under three heads. We may have golden talents, silver talents and leaden talents. The golden talents are those we most desire, but we do not always get them by nature. A girl with a leaden talent may change it after awhile, if she is faithful and painstaking and plodding, for a talent of silver, and a girl whose talents originally were silver may in the progress of her school years have them transmuted to gold. Rough ore must go through a good many severe processes before it can be changed into beautiful articles for daily use.
One girl in your class has a talent which almost amounts to genius for English literature. She pursues that with ardor and is at the top of the class, but she has no special turn for mathematical study and has to be dragged through it by main force. Another girl has a passion for figures, finds them absorbing and easy, and without much effort carries off all the honors. As for geography, botany, rhetoric and physic, she is quite resigned to a mediocre standard in them, and, though successful in spots, she, like her friend, is anything but an all-around scholar.
The fact is--and I want every one of my girls to listen--the object of your school life is preparation for to-morrow. The knowledge you gain to-day is by way of a foundation for to-morrow's building. Only a little while from now you girls will be in the doorway of a bright and charming future, with all sorts of opportunities pressing upon you. Your to-morrow will be bright and glad, full of duties, full of pleasures and full of responsibility.
School life is your time for getting ready so that when you enter on a more independent season of life, you may rise to its importance. The all-around scholar of the present will one day be the all-around woman in business, in a profession, in society, or, best of all, in the household. Nowhere else can an all-around girl be so useful and so lovable as in her home. I wish that the girls I write for and to whom I am talking might every one be the sweetest home daughters in the wide world.
One of the essentials of happy and successful womanhood is that women should be interesting. A dull, commonplace, unresponsive woman may have a pretty face and a good figure, but notwithstanding her beauty people will soon grow tired of her and seek other company. One cannot be interesting unless she has both sympathy and information.
A girl who has made herself familiar with several fields of learning and who has a well-disciplined mind may not always be able to talk brightly but she will know how to listen intelligently. Better still, she will know when to keep still, an invaluable bit of knowledge for a woman.
Old people will find this girl charming and considerate. Busy men will feel rested in her presence, and as for her father and mother, they will be repaid in her sweet, bright and useful girlhood for the sacrifices they made when she was in the schoolroom. Many parents have to deny themselves far more than their children dream that the children may be educated. They are always repaid in full by the children who are developed in an all-around fashion.
Pluck, Perseverance and Punctuality
One evening last autumn I had the pleasure of being a guest in a great school for girls. The school building which is ample and beautiful, stands on a hill-top and all around it are acres of garden and meadow, with a lake where the girls row in summer and skate in winter; trees under which they walk and every beautiful condition that can make the surroundings ideal. Within, the accommodations match the fair outside, and I have rarely seen anything more beautiful than the assemblage of those girls in chapel at their vesper service. To me the hour I liked best was one at the close of the day, when I sat in the middle of a crowd of girls, a few seated on chairs and sofas, but most on the floor, a throng of bright faces, eager and responsive, that I shall never forget.
Looking at these winsome schoolgirls, I seemed to see beyond them a much larger throng. To this great company of girls who shall presently be the young women of the future, I have a little sermon to preach. The old-fashioned way was to divide sermons under three heads. I am taking this way, and my first head is
PLUCK PERSEVERANCE Perseverance tells on your monthly or quarterly reports as examinations never do. The real test of ability in any line is just here: Is the student easily daunted or does she hold fast with an iron grip until she has accomplished what she undertakes?
As our favorite Longfellow sings: The twin sister of perseverance is patience. You remember, do you not, the old fairy stories in which the little princess was set to unravel a terribly tangled skein, and how she made no headway until a fairy named Patience came and helped her straighten out the threads, and lay them side by side? Let your fairy be named Perseverance, and if her sister comes to help, give a welcome to them both.
PUNCTUALITY To be late at dinner, as everyone knows, is an unpardonable sin, and when you are old enough to be dinner guests you will discover that you must be punctual then. Try to be punctual now. It is quite as easy to be a little in advance of one's daily engagements as to be a little behind. Never allow yourself to be spoken of as the tardy Miss Emily, or the late Miss Alice. Pride yourself on being known as one who is as punctual as the sun.
May I say a word about the start in the morning? If one dislikes getting up and dressing and being ready for breakfast in good season, and if she yields to her dislike, it is more than probable that she will lose time all day long. One never catches up with that half hour that was wasted in a nap after the rising bell had rung. The morning hour has gold in its mouth.
The Unpopular Schoolgirl
When you tell me that you cannot win your way in school because the teacher is hateful and the girls are horrid and nobody likes you, I cannot help thinking that the fault must somehow lie with you. You tell me with a very mournful look that you are unpopular. Mary is popular, and so is Jane. But you, with every reason that they have for being liked by the class and the teacher, are left out in the cold and have begun to feel that you will always have to stay on the edge of things while other girls are in the middle.
Naturally some girls get on faster than others in a new environment. There is Margaret who is so magnetic, so sweetly attractive that everyone falls in love with her gentleness and grace. There is Stella, whose scholarship is so accurate that teachers feel delighted to have her at her desk when they are explaining lessons, or conducting recitations. There is Eva, who is never at a loss fo the right word, and who never is bothered with her hands and feet as some girls are with theirs.
It is not really worth while to look too long at those fortunate girls, the trouble being, in your case, that you do not belong to that group.
May it not be that you are over critical? Occasionally a schoolgirl falls into a habit of saying disagreeable things about other girls, and putting wrong constructions on their motives. We have all seen the girl who is ready to say something mean about her neighbor, and who stoops to the greater meanness of saying uncharitable things about those who are absent. If you do this, you cannot expect that people in general will be very fond of you.
I have seen girls who prided themselves so much upon being candid and telling the truth that people were actually afraid of them. They use the truth as a boy throws stones. One never knew when some hard little pellet would hit one in the face.
For example, a girl may have entirely too good a memory. The girl whose habit is the instant she hears something told, to make a face of surprise and say in a shocked tone, "Why, last week you expressed an entirely different opinion," or, who makes a point of telling her friends on all occasions precisely what she thinks of them, may be a very good girl, but she will never be popular.
Please observe that we are always to tell the truth if we are obliged to speak, but there are many times when it is much more a duty to be silent than it is to speak. All truth is not always to be told. You need not go out of your way to inform Sally Brown that a green dress does not suit her complexion and makes her look yellow, if she has just bought one, nor is it your place to make Louise Jones uncomfortable by commenting on the unbecoming style of her new hat, which she must wear all winter.
A good rule all through life is to say agreeable things whenever one can, and disagreeable things only when one must. No girl will ever be popular who has no tact. The tactful girl is more likely to be a favorite than the beautiful, the generous or the clever girl, who lacks this quality.
The self-centered girl, too, is likely to be unpopular. She sees things exclusively as they affect herself. She is so occupied with what she wishes to do, with her own plans, ambitions and ends, that there is no room beside her fire for anybody else to sit down. This girl always makes herself comfortable and does not care a fig whether or not others suffer. In a street car, she pounces upon the best vacant seat, and never thinks of offering it to an elderly lady or a woman burdened with a child, or anybody else who looks tired or worn. She sends her brothers and sisters all over the house on her errands, but it does not occur to her to run upstairs for the book her mother is reading, the shawl her grandmother needs, or the box of toys that may amuse a visiting youngster. She does not mean to be selfish, and she very willingly divids a treat with or spends money for her friends, but she thinks, primarily, of number one. Take care of number one is her maxim. Nobody who makes this her life motto will ever have many friends.
Another thing that makes a girl unpopular is affectation. This is especially a girl's defect. One hardly ever sees it in a boy. Your brother may be a tease, or a torment; he may be rough and clumsy; he may provoke you by forgetting his manners, but he is not apt to put on the airs of other people. He will be just himself.
But girls sometimes purposely and sometimes unconsciously imitate those around them, and in speech and behavior are not quite genuine. Nobody can have very much patience with an affected girl; a girl on whom one cannot count, who poses and acts a part. You would better ask yourself if you are always simple and sincere and willing to be the plain, honest girl that your mother knows and your father loves with such pride, because if you are, the girls will presently begin to love you, too.
Real people who belong to the realities of life, and who are not trying to masquerade in characters that are not their own, are almost always sure of gaining esteem, and after esteem comes affection. A pleasing individuality wins friends.
There is just the possibility that the girl who mourns because she is unpopular cares too much about it, and is too anxious to have the conspicuous places. Your older sister could tell you of a girl in her class in college, who was lovely, provided she could be pushed into a position of leadership. If only everyone would look up to her, ask what she thought, and give her the casting vote, nobody could compare with her in courtesy. But pass her over, ask her next door neighbor to walk with you, or take the chair at a committee meeting, and this girl froze and was as cold and distant and hard and unresponsive as an ice-bound brook in January. Let her lead, and she was fascinating; omit her from the program and she immediately becamse a sphynx. A girl who is bound to be foremost at any cost may be admired, but she will not be the most dearly loved girl in her class.
If I were you, I would not worry anymore about this thing that has been causing you to look pensive and have drooping lines about your mouth and wear a grieved and martyr-like expression. Popularity is very well, if it comes unsought, and as the reward of goodness, kindness and unselfishness. But it is not the thing best worth trying for.
Sometimes it is a disgrace to be popular. If one becomes popular through courting other people's favor and doing what is called toadying, she has no reason to be proud; she ought rather to blush. A girl who is true and loving and gentle, considerate, thoughtful and ready to do the next thing for the next person, with that politeness which springs from a good heart, need not be afraid that she will ever be the unpopular girl in her circle.
Perplexing Studies
Dorothy and I have had an argument. She declares that it is not worth while to work hard at a thing she cannot understand, and frankly despises. Despises is a strong word, but I have noticed that Dorothy
The Lessons You Don't Like
Mathematics
How to Write
Examinations
The Unpopular Teacher
The Care of Schoolbooks
The Schoolgirl's Luncheon
Unless a girl has pluck, she will find herself many a time at odds with life. It requires pluck of no mean order to sit in a dentist's chair and endure the agony known as treating a tooth. It requires pluck to go with a little sister or brother to this same friendly adjunct of the family, and sit by while the little victim has teeth straightened or a tooth removed. Pluck is far more necessary when the difficulty is not merely physical, but is moral and calls for the kind of courage that makes one bear reproof patiently, or speak the truth when to do so may make one unpopular. Without real, genuine pluck few of us can get through the day's work with credit. Sometimes pluck is needful when one has to wear much-mended gloves or a shabby gown, or when one faces the fact that she cannot have the luxuries that are as common as air and water in the experience of her neighbor. Pluck is not given to us at birth. Some of us are naturally great cowards. We shrink from pain and trouble of every variety, and want a cushioned seat for every journey. Fortunately, pluck may be acquired. If we have not very much to begin with we may easily get more by the simple method of cultivating what we have. I would have my girls brave and fearless, feeling perfectly sure of their ground, if they are in the right, and dreading nothing except being in the wrong.
You all remember the little rhyme that you were taught almost as soon as the alphabet, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, again." The lesson in this bit of homely verse is one for you and me. Beginnings are easy enough; we start out with a fair wind and a flowing sail, and our boat goes dancing over the waves, but the true test comes when we have to row against wind and tide, or to manage our course when the storms beat and the winds rave. To drop the metaphor, most of us enjoy taking the initiative with a new study or a new enterprise. Our commencement is with enthusiasm, but presently we reach irregular verbs, or abstruse problems, and our ardor dampens. Very likely some of you could show, if you chose, beautiful pieces of embroidery and knitting on which you have made a fair start. The place that tires one and tries one's mettle is in the middle of the road, or the middle of the task. Those who begin well, keep on well, and finish well, gain the laurels and wear them with honor.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Of the three p's, punctuality is probably the most important, because, you see, if you are not punctual, you are a thief. It is a dreadful thing to be a thief. Hosts of people who would not steal diamonds or gold or break into houses or pick pockets, have no hesitation whatever in robbing others of something as precious, namely, time. When you fail to keep an engagement at the right moment, when you come dawdling in five or ten minutes late, whether it be a recitation, a committee meeting or any other appointment, you have wasted what did not belong to you -- the time of other and busy folk. We prove that we can be punctual whenever we catch a train that is scheduled to leave the station at a certain hour. Knowing well that trains do not await the convenience of passengers, or ocean steamers tarry at the wharf a moment after the hour fixed for sailing, we are punctual if we are starting on a journey or a voyage; but we are much less apt to be punctual, for instance, about entering church in season, or reaching a friends home at the moment we were asked.
