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chinery of the school might move. True, the effort has not yet become universal nor scientific nor even systematic, but a general recognition of the importance of physical and moral fitness in connection with mental development is fast gaining ground, even in rural districts.

But the group represented by these children has not always found its way into the house of worship. Or if it has (as the result of some campaign for increased attendance or membership), the sharp contrast in clothing and manner has been too great, and the following Sunday the underprivileged children have remained at home. Meantime the church has continued to follow its ancient custom of glorifying God in its cushioned pews and its best Sunday dress. But in the last decade I think an elevating of church purposes and ideals has come about. We are coming to believe that the halo about Christ's head is pictured as the reflection of the light of his simple life of love, service, and sacrifice, rather than an indication of a mystical birth or a triumphant death. Women's church organizations are becoming more and more interested in social service, and if the right appeal is made they frequently answer with valuable assistance, though it is evident that they do not respond to situations as readily as to definite cases. I have dwelt at some length upon the school and the church, for in many rural communities these two are the only centers of common human interest. We are rapidly coming to the place, however, where every county has one or more men's civic clubs. These men are often eager for a program of real service. County federations of women's clubs are fast bridging the chasm that divides the remote rural woman from the town woman. This chasm has ever been a needless one, and with the arrival of good roads and with the leadership of our home-economics workers, it bids fair to disappear entirely. Woman is coming, at last, to know that every woman's child is her child, and that if she fulfills her obligation as a citizen she must concern herself with the welfare of all children.

It is difficult to win and hold the interest of the organizations referred to, since the educational program must be carried on as a side issue, while the regular work of the court receives proper and adequate attention. But it is worth while, and we should recognize the importance of bringing our ancient institutions and general public (quite as ancient in its line of thought) to a clearer conception of what we are trying to do. Thus only can we hope to create the requisite equipment for achieving our purposes. But let us not become confused as to our needs. Intangible equipment, those things which pervade the minds of men, must always precede the acquisition of all tangible equipment.

I have not spoken of the cooperative relation of the juvenile court to established law-enforcing agencies, for I am certain that its value needs no emphasis here. Neither does it seem necessary to speak of the proper cooperation with specialized agencies of health, family welfare, and recreation. Many times the rural probation officer's task must be attempted without the aid of such organi

zations. This greatly complicated an already difficult problem. Occasionally in my own state I have been amazed to find the existence of a sort of competition that amounted to envy between the juvenile court and other social agencies. Usually this is brought about by what is considered a usurpation of rights. Whatever its cause, it is a condition which should not exist. A calm conference as to what is best for the client in question should result in an intelligent understanding ending the temporary friction and leading to permanent cooperation.

It is with some hesitancy that I close this paper by a reference to my own work. But I have been specifically requested to do so; besides, I feel that it is only just to Arkansas' twenty-six chief probation officers, with their nine assistants, to tell you something of their efforts as well as my own.

Three and a half years of state organization and supervision has raised our number of full time, paid juvenile court workers from five to twenty-nine, and our annual budget for juvenile court purposes is six times as large as it was in October, 1921. In several counties, through the preliminary state educational work, we have been able to obtain appropriations which have guaranteed the service of skilled probation officers-with transportation and adequate office equipment. This was accomplished before the worker began her duties, and in the event of an imported officer, before she was even on the ground.

It is with pride—and not a tinge of regret—that I tell you that in a few counties I have been able to secure better salaries for the local officers than I myself receive, and I state with even more pride that they are earning every dollar of their salaries. Full time service, with transportation, office equipment, and salaries commensurate with the work done, is ever my plea to county judges, quorum courts, and county juvenile court boards. The advantage of homes over institutions for all our children, and the wisdom of the administration of mothers' aid rather than paupers' pensions is constantly stressed. We realize that we have not even approached the standards that are set up for efficient juvenile court work; but we feel that by our constant efforts to cooperate, to increase our skill, and render real service, we are moving in the right direction.

You will readily recognize that my own share in this "moving forward" for the sake of Arkansas' unfortunate children has been very small, since we have seventy-five counties and the state department has ever been crippled by a lack of funds as well as of personnel. The most I can hope to do, barring the securing of appropriations, is to help create and maintain that "intangible equipment" of which we have already spoken.

The probation officers themselves, who have battled against great odds, are largely responsible for the ground that we have gained. For almost four years I have watched them with eager and impartial eyes. I have considered the conditions under which they have labored, the progress they have made, the service they have rendered, and the place they have won. Naturally, I have arrived at certain conclusions as to the requisite qualifications of a good pro

bation officer. There is nothing new in my conclusions, yet I would set them forth here, and in the following order: love for people and for work; knowledge, which includes technique and skill; wisdom, which is a mixture of love, knowledge, and understanding; courage and faith in abundance, and having all these, I would add the medium of magnetic personality-for thus only can we hope to cross the bridge which divides us from our unfortunate children, and give to them those things which they need.


Carrie Weaver Smith, M.D., Superintendent, Texas Training School
for Girls, Gainesville

My first inclination in considering this subject is to announce in clerical tones, "The morning lesson will be the first twelve chapters of Youth in Conflict (not, thank Heaven, by Saint Miriam Van Waters, but by very human Miriam Van Waters), after which we will be led in prayer by anyone whose humility does not inhibit his powers of articulate speech!" I have been superintendent of a state training school for girls for nearly ten years, but never have I so clearly realized that "I have done those things that I ought not to have done, and left undone those things that I ought to have done" as I did when I read Dr. Van Water's great, understanding book. Automatically I fell to singing that wonderful negro spiritual, "It's me, it's me, it's me, Oh Lord, standin' in the need of prayer." So my frame of mind in coming before you, attempting to answer the question of whether or not it is possible for an institution to fulfil its divine mission, is, I assure you, not that of one who has in any sense arrived, but who, in spite of recognized failures, continues to have enough faith in the possibilities of the job to travel hopefully.

Even though I may have to make use of what may seem the "vain repetition of the heathen," I propose to answer the question that has been put to me, by a series of "not if's."

Can the institution equip a girl for normal, social relationships? Not if it assumes that normal social relationships characterize the great world outside of institutional walls. That is not the statement of a cynic. The foundation of failure with a child in the so-called "correctional institution" is laid when an effort is made to get her to believe that between her and the normal a great gulf is fixed; that she had to be brought to the training school because her standards of conduct were so far out of line that the normal community would no longer tolerate her. She knows that, in the immortal words of David Harum, "There's as much human nature in some folks as there is in others, if not more."

Says Dr. Van Waters, "Almost all delinquencies of youth are the expressed social standards of a part of the adult community, which is under no indictment, and which flourishes without condemnation." For, in the processes of juvenile justice as practiced, one is reminded of the prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem, "Two women shall be grinding together at the mill; one shall be taken and the other left." The moral delinquent may not have read Dr. Catherine Davis' startling report of the sex life of college women, but, paraphrasing Kipling, "Sallie ain't no bloomin' fool, you bet that Sallie sees.'

As in a case of our own, Sallie felt the injustice of sending the Baptist preacher's daughter, with whom she had engaged in what is familiarly known as "hustling," to a finishing school in Virginia, allowing the eighteen school boys in the case to go "scott free," but sending her, the widow's daughter, to the training school. And, therefore, to what is already a difficult problem is added the still greater task of trying to make a sophisticated cynic of fifteen believe that while the "world," as she fondly calls it, is not Utopia, neither is it Babylon, but is the city of "Everytown," where Everyman and his family live, and where in spite of the injustice and hypocrisy of society there moves a great and ever increasing caravan marching steadfastly toward the Celestial City of Bunyan's dream, "wherein dwelleth righteousness" naturally and uncoerced.

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if the institution fails to give to its girls standards. There is no story in history more inspiring than the account of the Battle of the Standard between David of Scotland and King Stephen. In this battle a ship's mast was erected on a wagon and placed in the center of the English army. To the mast were nailed the standards of battle flags of the English. On the top of the mast was a golden casket, containing a consecrated Host. This standard, as we know, became the rallying point for the hard-pressed soldiers, around which they gained new courage. The chronicle records: "The fierce hordes dashed in vain against the closed English ranks around the Standard."

Have we, as institutional administrators, realizing the inevitable battle in which our children will be conscripted, provided for them a towering standard? In a "world not right" can they rely on the moral teaching, the habit-training, the self-dependence, the joy of workmanship, the recognition of the impositions of noblesse oblige that they should have achieved from their institutional experience?

Can the institution equip the girl for normal, social relationships? Not if the members of the staff of the institution are themselves lacking in the prerequisites so imperative for passing on to impressionable children the characteristics just enumerated. The institution for the delinquent girl is too much of a combination of a home for the aged, who for some political reason are state retainers, and whose lack of education and physical strength necessitate the use of mechanical means of control; too much of a training school for the inexperienced, whose motive in coming into the work is based on morbid curiosity, whose

interest is an effort to answer for themselves the prayer that is attributed to this jazz age, "Give us this day our daily thrill"; too much of a harbor for the middle-aged failure in everything else, who for financial reasons wants some sure money, coming at regular intervals, "with keep furnished." Quoting Paul, "Brethren and sisters, these things ought not so to be." Boards of control, legislators, and the public have the attitude that any old thing is good enough, generally, "for that kind of girls." The truth of the matter is that few things are good enough and nothing is too good. Our only hope for our girls is to give to them "whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are lovely, and whatsoever things are of good report." A tremendous change of attitude will have to take place before we will be able to find those men and women who, in all relationships with delinquents, will be able to give of those riches which are within, which are so necessary. I rather doubt if this difficulty is altogether a matter of low salaries. The most devoted workers and the most effectual in schools for delinquents are not well paid. In fact, the sense of "importancy," as we say down south, which too frequently comes to even the social workers with the high salary, often militates against the possession of that quality which is the sine qua non for successful work, humility. There are no more successful workers with delinquents in the world than the unpaid sisters of the Houses of the Good Shepherd, because they have realized the truth of the social worker's creed so well formulated by Owen Lovejoy, "God is a Father; man is a brother; life is a mission and not a career; dominion is service, its sceptre is gladness; the least is the greatest; saving is dying; giving is living; life is eternal and love is its crown." When we stand baffled, as did the disciples of old in the presence of the demoniac, and ask in despair, "Why cannot we cast out devils?" the simple answer comes, which is as true today as it was two thousand years ago, "This kind cometh not out except by prayer and fasting." By "prayer" the Master did not mean the "praying machine" that revolves night and morning in most institutions, but rather a spiritual-mindedness which makes possible constant, unremitting faith, patience, and love. Nor by "fasting" do I feel that he could have meant an unreasonable abstinence from physical food, which, after all, is so incidental, but rather the spirit of unselfishness or even self-immolation which might well be expressed in the words of John the Baptist in referring to the Messiah, "He must increase, but I must decrease." A notable poem which, unfortunately, does not seem to have been sufficiently broadcasted, was some time ago written by Jess Pearlman. It too often characterizes the attitude of social workers:

He serves and struts; he cannot give
Himself and leave himself unsung.
He'd gladly die that they might live
Who less from life's rare stores have rung;

But of his dying hour, half

He'd use to write his epitaph.

There is no questioning his great

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