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History of California by Bandini, Helen Elliott - Chapter XVII

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History of California

Chapter XVII

From La Es­cuela of Span­ish Cal­ifor­nia to the Schools of the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tu­ry

In no line has Cal­ifor­nia ad­vanced so far be­yond the days of the padres as in her schools. In the ear­ly set­tle­ments there were no ed­ucat­ed peo­ple but the priests at the mis­sions and the Span­ish of­fi­cers with their fam­ilies at the pre­sid­ios. Lat­er, clever men of good fam­ilies came in­to the ter­ri­to­ry, took up land, and made their homes on the great ran­chos, but among these there were few who would take the time or trou­ble to teach the chil­dren; so life to the young peo­ple was a long hol­iday. The sad re­sult was that they grew up so ig­no­rant as to as­ton­ish the ed­ucat­ed strangers who vis­it­ed the coast.

At the mis­sions the padres had schools where they taught the young In­di­ans some­thing of read­ing and writ­ing, re­li­gious ser­vices and songs, and the trades nec­es­sary for life. This, with their du­ties in the church and the ex­ten­sive build­ing and plant­ing of the mis­sion set­tle­ments, took all the time of the hard-​work­ing priests. Oc­ca­sion­al­ly, an ed­ucat­ed wom­an would teach her own chil­dren and those of her rel­atives, but like most at­tempts at home ed­uca­tion, it was so in­ter­rupt­ed as to amount to lit­tle.

In 1794 a new gov­er­nor came from Spain who was so shocked at this state of af­fairs that he at once or­dered three schools opened. The first, De­cem­ber, 1794, was held in a gra­nary at San Jose and was in charge of a re­tired sergeant of the Span­ish army. The chil­dren had been so long free from all re­straint that they did not like to go to school, and their par­ents did not al­ways take the trou­ble to in­sist. There were some rea­sons for this, as the mas­ters did not know much about what they were try­ing to teach, and the use of the fer­ule and scourge (the lat­ter a whip of cords tipped with iron) was fre­quent and cru­el. There were no books but primers, and these were hard to ob­tain. The writ­ing, pa­per was fur­nished by the mil­itary au­thor­ities and had to be re­turned when the child was through with it, that it might be used in mak­ing car­tridges. These schools were for boys on­ly, girls not be­ing ex­pect­ed to learn any­thing ex­cept cook­ing, sewing, and em­broi­dery.

Slow­ly the state of things im­proved, and in 1829 in the year­ly re­port to the Mex­ican gov­ern­ment, it was stat­ed that there were eleven pri­ma­ry schools in the province with three hun­dred and thir­ty-​nine boys and girls. One of the best of these schools was that of Don Ig­na­cio Coro­nel of Los An­ge­les.

In 1846 the first Amer­ican school was opened at San­ta Clara by Mrs. Oliv­er Mann Is­bell. It pro­vid­ed for chil­dren from about twen­ty em­igrant fam­ilies and was held in a room of the San­ta Clara mis­sion on the great pa­tio. The floor was of earth, the seats box­es; an open­ing in the tiled roof over the cen­ter of the room al­low­ing the smoke to es­cape when, on rainy days, a fire was built on a rude plat­form of stones set in the mid­dle of the floor. Wher­ev­er the Amer­icans lived, they would have schools, al­though their first build­ings were bare and in­con­ve­nient, with no grace or adorn­ment ei­ther in­side or out. In some out-​of-​the-​way places, whole terms of school were spent most hap­pi­ly un­der spread­ing live oaks.

In the mak­ing of the first con­sti­tu­tion, ed­uca­tion­al mat­ters were not for­got­ten; one sec­tion pro­vid­ing that there should be a com­mon school sys­tem sup­port­ed by mon­ey from the sale of pub­lic lands. On ac­count of the min­er­als the lands so al­lot­ted were sup­posed to con­tain, it was be­lieved that they would sell for such vast amounts that the state would have mon­ey suf­fi­cient for the grand­est pub­lic schools that ev­er ex­ist­ed. In fact these lands brought in al­to­geth­er, af­ter a num­ber of years, less than a quar­ter of a mil­lion dol­lars. The act pro­vid­ed al­so that the schools be kept open three months in the year. An ef­fort was made to ex­tend this pe­ri­od to six months, but was de­feat­ed by Sen­ator Gwin.

Con­sid­er­ing the state of the coun­try when the pub­lic schools were be­gun, and the short time in which they have been de­vel­oped, the Cal­ifor­nia free schools are a cred­it to the state and to the men and wom­en who have helped to make them what they are. No com­mu­ni­ty is so poor and re­mote but that it may have its school if the in­hab­itants choose to or­ga­nize for the pur­pose. Hard­ly can the set­tler find a ranch from which his chil­dren may not at­tend a dis­trict school over which floats the stars and stripes.

Mon­ey for ed­uca­tion­al pur­pos­es is now raised by state and coun­ty tax­es on prop­er­ty, this sum, in cities, be­ing large­ly in­creased by the ad­di­tion of the city tax­es. High schools have on­ly re­cent­ly been giv­en state aid, and that mod­er­ate­ly; the larg­er ones still de­pend­ing, in a great mea­sure, up­on the spe­cial tax of the city, dis­trict, or coun­ty, ac­cord­ing to the class to which the school be­longs. The state sup­ports one Poly­tech­nic school, that at San Luis Obis­po, where there are three cours­es, agri­cul­ture, me­chan­ics, and do­mes­tic sci­ence.

About 1878, in the en­deav­or to teach the chil­dren of the worst parts of San Fran­cis­co a right way of liv­ing, the free kinder­gartens were be­gun. Per­haps their suc­cess can­not be bet­ter shown than in the fact that in the first year of the work along “Bar­bary coast,” one of the most tur­bu­lent dis­tricts of the city, the Ital­ian fruit and veg­etable deal­ers who lived there, brought the teach­ers a purse of sev­en­ty-​five dol­lars, be­cause the chil­dren had been taught not to steal their fruits and veg­eta­bles or to break their win­dows. The first free kinder­garten was start­ed on Sil­ver Street in “Tar Flats” and had for its teach­er a pret­ty young girl, with beau­ti­ful eyes and a mass of bronze-​col­ored hair, whom the ragged lit­tle urchins soon learned to adore. That lit­tle school was the be­gin­ning of one of the best kinder­garten sys­tems in the coun­try, and the pret­ty young teach­er is now Kate Dou­glas Wig­gin, one of Amer­ica’s best loved writ­ers, the au­thor of those de­light­ful books, “The Birds’ Christ­mas Car­ol,” “Tim­othy’s Quest” and oth­ers equal­ly in­ter­est­ing. There have been many gifts to these kinder­gartens. In mem­ory of their on­ly son, Mr, and Mrs. Le­land Stan­ford gave one hun­dred thou­sand dol­lars, while Mrs. Phoebe Hearst sup­port­ed en­tire­ly three of the schools. Kinder­gartens may now form part of the pri­ma­ry de­part­ment in the school sys­tem of any com­mu­ni­ty so de­sir­ing, and are to be found in most of the cities.

Noth­ing in the ed­uca­tion­al work of Cal­ifor­nia is of more im­por­tance than the five nor­mal schools, which grad­uate each year hun­dreds of teach­ers thor­ough­ly pre­pared in all branch­es for the im­por­tant work of train­ing the chil­dren of the state.

As the crown of the free school sys­tem, stands the state uni­ver­si­ty at Berke­ley. Many an in­ter­est­ing sto­ry might be told of the no­ble men, who as ear­ly as 1849 be­gan their long strug­gle to gain for the youth of Cal­ifor­nia the chance for high­er ed­uca­tion. The Rev­erend Samuel Wil­ley, the Amer­ican con­sul Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Sher­man Day were lead­ers in this en­ter­prise. There was much against them; men’s thoughts were al­most en­tire­ly giv­en to the ne­ces­si­ties of ev­ery­day life, and few seemed able to see that a grand and beau­ti­ful fu­ture was com­ing to the new ter­ri­to­ry. The uni­ver­si­ty se­cured its char­ter in 1868, but it was not un­til the adop­tion of the new con­sti­tu­tion in 1879 that it was placed on a firm ba­sis which could not be changed by each new leg­is­la­ture.

The com­ing of Mr. Ben­jamin Ide Wheel­er to the pres­iden­cy was one of the best strokes of for­tune the in­sti­tu­tion has ev­er known. Un­der his man­age­ment it has tak­en a great stride for­ward. In the work it does, and the high stan­dard it de­mands, it takes its place side by side with the best uni­ver­si­ties of the old­er East­ern states. The work of its col­lege of agri­cul­ture is be­com­ing of great ser­vice to the farmer and fruit grow­er. The re­sult of its ex­per­iments in de­ter­min­ing the best wheat for the soil is of very great im­por­tance to the grain in­dus­try of the state.

Con­nect­ed with the uni­ver­si­ty are: the Lick Ob­ser­va­to­ry on Mount Hamil­ton; the Mark Hop­kins In­sti­tute of Art, the Hast­ings Col­lege of Law, and Col­leges of Medicine, Den­tistry, and Phar­ma­cy, in San Fran­cis­co; and an ad­mirable Uni­ver­si­ty Ex­ten­sion Course which of­fers its ad­van­tages to the peo­ple of any lo­cal­ity through­out the state who may de­sire its help.

One of the most prac­ti­cal and im­por­tant as­so­ci­ations in the state is the Farmer’s In­sti­tute, which, un­der di­rec­tion and con­trol of the uni­ver­si­ty, holds a three days’ meet­ing once a month in each lo­cal­ity through­out the state. Al­so, once a year, an in­sti­tute of a week’s du­ra­tion is held at Berke­ley, where em­inent sci­en­tists give their ser­vices, and the re­sults are most help­ful.

The uni­ver­si­ty has re­ceived many gifts from dis­tin­guished cit­izens. Mrs. Phoebe Hearst has de­vot­ed much of her time and a large amount of her mon­ey to its im­prove­ment, and plans are un­der way to make it the most fin­ished and beau­ti­ful ed­uca­tion­al in­sti­tu­tion ev­er owned by any state or coun­try.

Bare­ly one hour’s ride from San Fran­cis­co south, lies the Le­land Stan­ford Ju­nior Uni­ver­si­ty, which at the time of its foun­da­tion, in 1885, was the great­est gift ev­er be­stowed up­on hu­man­ity by any one per­son. In this no­ble move­ment Mr. and Mrs. Stan­ford were as one. Their on­ly son died in 1884, and the uni­ver­si­ty is a memo­ri­al of him, a grand ex­am­ple of the way in which those who are dead may yet live, through the good done in their names. Al­though en­tire­ly a pri­vate bene­fac­tion, its doors are open to stu­dents ab­so­lute­ly free of all tu­ition charges.

This uni­ver­si­ty start­ed with a large en­dow­ment, but af­ter the death of Mr. Stan­ford, a law­suit with the Unit­ed States, and a shrink­age in the val­ue of the prop­er­ties it owned, ran the fi­nances so low that for a short time it was found nec­es­sary to charge a small en­trance fee. Even then, the col­lege was kept open on­ly through the econ­omy and self-​sac­ri­fice of Mrs. Stan­ford and the mem­bers of the fac­ul­ty, who stood by the in­sti­tu­tion with no­ble un­selfish­ness. By the year 1906 the fi­nan­cial con­di­tion had be­come sat­is­fac­to­ry and the at­ten­dance had ma­te­ri­al­ly in­creased. Two hand­some new build­ings, one for the li­brary and the oth­er for the gym­na­si­um, were about com­plet­ed when, on April 18, an earth­quake, the most de­struc­tive ev­er ex­pe­ri­enced on the Pa­cif­ic coast, shook all the re­gion around San Fran­cis­co Bay. Stan­ford suf­fered severe­ly: the two new build­ings were ru­ined; so, too, was the mu­se­um and a por­tion of the chem­istry build­ing. Both the no­ble arch and the mo­saics in the front of the memo­ri­al chapel were de­stroyed. Be­yond this, com­par­ative­ly lit­tle dam­age was done to the col­lege build­ings. The grad­uat­ing ex­er­cis­es were post­poned un­til the fall term; oth­er­wise the dis­as­ter did not in­ter­fere se­ri­ous­ly with the rou­tine of study, nei­ther did it af­fect the at­ten­dance in 1906-7, which was un­usu­al­ly large. In the fall of 1907 Pres­ident Jor­dan stat­ed that he was em­pow­ered to an­nounce that Thomas Wel­don Stan­ford, broth­er of Sen­ator Le­land Stan­ford, had de­cid­ed to give the uni­ver­si­ty his own large for­tune of sev­er­al mil­lions.

It is gen­er­al­ly rec­og­nized that the uni­ver­si­ty owes a great part of its present suc­cess to the splen­did tal­ents and faith­ful­ness of Pres­ident Jor­dan, who has giv­en the hard­est la­bor of the best years of his busy life to help­ing it on­ward and up­ward. Its ed­uca­tion­al work is thor­ough, and its re­quire­ments are be­ing steadi­ly raised. It stands for the high­est ed­uca­tion that is pos­si­ble. Ad­di­tion is con­stant­ly be­ing made to its group of no­ble build­ings. Beau­ti­ful Stan­ford is the sparkling jew­el in Cal­ifor­nia’s di­adem.

Not far from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­ifor­nia in the sub­urbs of Oak­land is sit­uat­ed Mills Col­lege, which for many years was the on­ly ad­vanced school for girls of which the state could boast. This in­sti­tu­tion had its be­gin­ning as a sem­inary in Beni­cia, but was moved to its present sit­ua­tion in 1871. In 1885 it be­came a col­lege with a state char­ter. In plan of stud­ies and high Chris­tian aim, it re­sem­bles Mount Holyoke, from which many of its lead­ing in­struc­tors have been grad­uat­ed.

There is no place here to speak of all the lead­ing pri­vate schools of the state. Throop Poly­tech­nic in Pasade­na, the Thatch­er School in the val­ley of the Ojai, and Bel­mont Mil­itary Acade­my are among the best. A word, how­ev­er, must be said in trib­ute to San­ta Clara Col­lege, with­out which the Cal­ifor­nia youth of from twen­ty to forty years ago would have been lack­ing in that high­er ed­uca­tion which stands for so much in the mak­ing of a state. In­cor­po­rat­ed in 1851, it was opened with funds amount­ing to but one hun­dred and fifty dol­lars, yet it grew steadi­ly. With a clever Je­suit fac­ul­ty, this col­lege has done ad­mirable work of so thor­ough a char­ac­ter as to win the praise of all those who have come in con­tact with its re­sults. From it have been grad­uat­ed such men as Stephen M. White, Regi­nal­do del Valle, and many oth­er of our lead­ing pro­fes­sion­al and busi­ness men.