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VERBAL arithmetic problems to be solved without the use of pencil and paper have practically disappeared from the present-day curriculum. However, the need for practice in performing calculations without pencil and paper is much in evidence. Many pupils, as well as adults, are completely dependent on pencil and paper in solving arithmetic problems arising in their daily lives. The purpose of the investigation reported in this article was to ascertain the ability of a group of sixth-grade children to solve certain verbal arithmetic problems without using pencil and paper.

This paper examines the degree to which stratification within schools contributes to the prevalent association between socioeconomic background and educational outcomes of students. The institutionalized mechanisms for social selection and differentiation, such as tracking and curriculum assignment, are essessed in 48 urban public high schools. Little evidence is found for overt class bias in placement. The relationship between socioeconomic status and curriculum assignment is largely mediated by verbal achievement. stratification patterns entail segregation and the allocation of resources within schools, however. The paper concludes that educational outcomes depend more on the criteria of selection than on the process within schools.

This paper is a theoretical foray into poorly charted terrain. It is offered not to provide answers to important questions, but in the hope that it may provoke more adequate questions about the role of education in the process of national development. The notion of development has been applied in a variety of ways to educational processes in the developing world but, as in other fields of social science it has been applied loosely, without definition. This paper will attempt to define development, to propose a model for educational systems which permits identification of system variables and criteria for judging whether development occurs, and to suggest a measurement method for studying the development of an important but commonly overlooked variable.

Education in the use of quantitative methods is likely to become an increasingly important part of a librarian's education. In such an education, the development of appropriate attitudes may be more important than mastering particular techniques. This paper examines the nature of decision making in libraries, with the view of learning what qualities ought to be developed while in a library school. The discussion is illustrated by means of a simple model analyzing the problem of congestion at a catalog. The importance of library experience in making such an analysis is stressed. The concluding section of the paper raises questions that the author feels must be answered before operations research (O. R.) can be successfully integrated into a library school curriculum.

Curriculum-as an organized and institutionalized discipline, as a sustained enquiry into an identified subject matter-does not exist. Our first task in this paper is to sustain this assertion and determine, as well as we can, a possible explanation for this state of affairs. We believe that the failure of Curriculum to develop into a research and researching discipline stems from a lack of concern for the most basic work in any field of enquiry-the stabilization of a subject matter and the systematic elaboration and acceptance of forms of enquiry into that subject matter. Our second task is to argue for a means to correct this lack of concern for basic theoretical tasks. We begin this with a demonstration of a kind of curricular discussion that can result when existing schemata, intended to structure approaches to some problems of schooling, are properly applied and properly used. This discussion is the heart of our paper. Its purpose is to demonstrate the posture toward curricular problems that we see as an indispensable prerequisite to the analysis of problems of schooling and to present an initial

In connection with the reorganization of the curriculum in terms of the demands of the out-of-school life of the pupils, it is significant to note the progress that has been made along the line of vital written work in the high school. This progress does not bear the earmarks of training of the belles lettres type so commonly offered in college preparatory courses. It shows rather the direct influences of the enriched materials of the reorganized content courses of the curriculum, the changed spirit of the school, and the results of participation in extra-curricular activities. Perhaps the most important single factor responsible for this stimulation of written English work is the provision of a ready medium of communication through high-school journalism. Ten or fifteen years ago few school papers were published, except in the larger high schools. Now student publications of some kind or other exist in practically all high schools. These publications differ widely in character. However, we find among them examples of most of the publications of the social and political world, with here and there an outstanding paper. It is the purpose of this article (i) to discuss briefly the major problems involved in the publication of high-school papers, (2) to evaluate their functions, and (3) to describe the types of publications generally found. Some people insist that every high school should have a paper. Many principals have acquiesced in this sentiment and have later regretted their action. Whether or not a high school should undertake the publication of a paper is a question of serious concern and one that should not be decided until it has been definitely ascertained that the major problems involved can be satisfactorily met. In the first place, some adult member of the school, capable and willing to assume the responsiblity of directing the project, must be secured for adviser. The success of the paper depends

tmyiHE topic assigned for this paper was "The Organization of ProcessI ing for Efficient Library Service," the intent being to review that form of administrative organization which combines the catalog and acquisition departments into a single processing division. Since my observations about this form of organization tend to be somewhat negative, I have also included a discussion of the relations of cataloging with bibliography. If cataloging is to be associated administratively with some other process, I am inclined to believe that an affiliation with the bibliographical operations of the reference department might be more rewarding than one with the bookcollecting operations of the acquisition department. It may be, of course, that no administrative affiliation of any kind is desirable -that the catalog department, as now conceived and organized, is still the most effective unit which can be devised. Let us grant that at the start. Yet a little speculation from time to time about possible realignments of our library organization is effort well spent. Because of the nature of my experience this paper is slanted toward university and research libraries. How much of what I have to say is applicable also to public libraries is left to the readers' judgment. The form of organization which combines the catalog and acquisition departments into a single processing, or technical processes, divison, usually under an assistant librarian, is now fairly common and appears to have received the general approval of the profession. As long ago as I938, Donald Coney was able to write of this "emergent trend toward a divisional head."2 It is probably safe to say that in recent years few university libraries have not considered the appointment of a chief of the technical processes. This trend is in keeping with a conception of library functions which permeates professional thinking todaythat of technical, as opposed to service, functions. The service departments, as a group, including reference, circulation, and special-subject departments, are conceived as those which distribute library materials and assist readers in their use. In so doing they meet the public. The technical departments do not meet the public. They acquire materials for the library and organize them for use by means of cataloging, classification, and related processes. This dichotomous pattern of thought is by now so deeply intrenched in our professional habits that it finds expression in our daily conversations; it determines the outlines of our textbooks and library surveys; it shapes our library school curriculums; and it affects our judgments of personnel and positions. Even in libraries which have not formally organized technical and service divisions, the various depart

A second-grader was sent home at noon in disgrace. His teacher ordered him to show his poorly done morning's work to his mother and have her sign it as evidence that she had seen it. Between trying to eat lunch, explaining his ineptness, and getting back to school on time (there was a price to pay for tardiness), our hero forgot the request for the signature until he was almost back at school and had no time to return home. Taking a stub of a pencil from his pocket, he spread the paper on a manhole lid in the street (the smoothest surface available) and signed the paper. The forgery was detected. In frightened defense the child explained, "My mother writes terrible." And indeed she does. But no one is about to punish her for her terrible writing. Only children suffer for such sins. Yet punishment or not, our scholar, like most pupils, also "writes terrible." Handwriting has long been recognized as a seriously neglected area of the curriculum. Teachers and laymen alike recognize illegible handwriting as a problem, and they talk about it, but because little is really known

Career education is an idea whose time has come. Almost daily, position papers appear from the United States Office of Education; from the office of the Assistant Secretary for Education in Health, Education, and Welfare; national and local conferences; state departments of education, and vocational training agencies.' At a time when there is widespread societal disaffection with utopian idealism and political activism, many college students are abandoning an interest in the arts, humanities, and social sciences in favor of career training in medicine, law, business, and engineering.2 Similarly, in an age of accountability, politicians and parents are demanding more practical schooling in elementary and secondary education. Curricula are being "refocused" away from the study of subject matter for its own sake and toward educational activities that relate "the world of theory to the world of work.' 3 Career educators often advance the following reasons for their "revolution" in American education: 4

M ANY arguments are advanced by the proponents of student publications on behalf of the place of such publications in the school curriculum, but only infrequently is mention made of the opportunities for desirable group experiences which a comprehensive student-publication program permits and demands. Of course publication activities are not unique in providing a setting for group learning; for many, if not most, activities sponsored by the modern school permit boys and girls to work and to learn together. A common difficulty, however, is that, in many learning areas, true group situations which are recognized and accepted as such by pupils seldom come into being spontaneously or at the suggestion of the learners. There is every reason to believe that a learning situation that is naturally a group situation is far more likely to contribute to the maturing of young people those benefits which can properly be expected to accrue from group relations than is a group learning situation which is forced into shape by the teacher. The inherent character of publication work is of a type which makes group activity, continuing over a period of time, the normal and customary method of procedure. The purpose of this paper, therefore, is to point out in some detail the nature of the opportunities for desirable group experiences in a schoolpublication program and to present illustrations from the curriculum of the

IF ONE EXAMINES THE STRAINS of education under colonial rule it is possible to discern four main elements; these have been usefully distinguished for us by John Furnivall, in his classic study Colonial Policy and Practice.2 There were, in Furnivall's terminology, European schools, which catered for the expatriate children of the colonial rulers, but which in some cases admitted a few of the children of the local elites; these schools were in fact outliers of the metropolitan system which was their educational referent. Then there were Western schools, recruiting the children of the colonial subjects, but answering the-service needs of the colonial enterprise, and using a European language as the medium of instruction. Also as part of the colonial enterprise, but in a more subordinate position, there were Vernacular schools, created by the colonial regime or its agents. The Vernacular were also primarily Western in coriception and curriculum, but they used local languages as the mediums of instruction. Finally there were Native schools, which were generally outside the orbit of colonial interests; in most cases these were religious institutions which had existed before the colonial period. Depending on the nature of the particular colonial situation the significance of each of these elements varied. In some cases, where there was little or no European settlement, there were no European schools. The relative importance of each of the two colonially inspired components, Western and Vernacular, and the strength of the articulating connections between them, differed from colony to colony. In some cases any pre-existing native school. system atrophied or was eclipsed with the advent of colonially stimulated social change. But in other cases the Native schools remained vigorous, and responded to change with determined resistance, or valiant attempts at imitation, or judgment, discrimination, and carefully evolved schemes for adaptation. This paper is concerned with an examination of the third type of response from the Native schools: adaptation. It is unfortunate for the historian of educa

school! These subjects are only a few of those available today. In addition to the three R's, which remain in the curriculum, there are myriad other subjects that can be considered. Are the choices and the resources in curriculums and instructional materials a boon or a bane for the classroom teacher? The new curriculums offer the classroom teacher rich resources, but they may not be appropriate for every local situation. Certainly, it is not possible to include all of them in any given curriculum. Choices must be made. A haphazard choice may lead to confusion, dismay, and negative results for many who want to improve the education of today's pupils. How are choices to be made? What questions should be raised in considering the quality of the curriculum and instructional materials? This paper suggests seven general categories of questions that should be considered. Questions should be asked about: 1. the rationale the developers used in making decisions 2. the specifications of the desired outcomes of the curriculum 3. the appropriateness of the curriculum or the materials for pupils 4. the effectiveness of the curriculum and the materials 5. the conditions under which the curriculum or the materials should be used

Though titled "The Practical" and concerned with practice, the series of papers of which this is one is grounded in a consideration of theory as well as practice. The series is concerned with theory because a study of educational literature reveals that education in general and the field of curriculum in particular have been inveterately theoretic and that this theoretic bent has let education down. Educators have sought theory (theory of curriculum, theories of teaching and learning) as if such theories would be sufficient to tell us what and how to teach. Educators have applied theories from the behavioral sciences toward solution of practical problems as if these borrowed theories could be applied simply and directly. Meanwhile, educators themselves, as well as others, bear witness to the fact that problems so attacked have been poorly solved. Extant curriculums with the stamp of theoretic legitimation often fail in practice. Teaching which is coherent with theory often misses its practical mark. Some of this failure is inherent in the character of practical

While at first thought there may seem to be little possible relation between the school club and the school garden, the former organized and conducted by the pupils of the upper elementary school to accomplish certain results which appeal to them as worthy of their efforts and which can be achieved only through co-operation, and the latter fast becoming a part of the curriculum, still the school club may be utilized by the school not only to make the work in gardening more interesting to the pupils, but also to assist in correlating with that work social and civic activities as well as school studies. It is the object of the present paper to indicate very briefly some of the ways in which the school club may be thus utilized. The school club has just been defined as a club organized and conducted by the pupils of the upper elementary school to accomplish certain results which appeal to them as worthy of their efforts and which can be achieved only through co-operation. While this implies that the aims of the club must be very definite, yet if the club is to be an -efficient agency for assisting the school in its endeavors to realize its educational ideals such as, for example, the vitalization of the curriculum, there must be tucked away somewhere in the constitution of the club an "elastic clause" which will permit it to undertake almost any form of work which may at any time interest the majority of its members. If there is such an "elastic clause" in the constitution of the school club, it should not be difficult to interest the members in the subject of gardening, since in most schools the pupils look forward with pleasure to their work in the garden. Indeed, in the majority of cases this interest will have to be molded rather than created, it will have to be socialized by developing it into a club or com416

The class referred to in this paper was composed of retarded boys from the public schools of Chicago, who were brought together under the management of the School of Education of the University of Chicago, partly because there was no other school to which they could go and partly to serve as material for investigation in prevocational education. The ages of the boys ranged from fourteen to seventeen years. None of them had completed the eighth grade. The curriculum which was planned for the boys was as follows: in the morning, from nine until twelve o'clock, they worked in the machine shop; in the afternoon, they were engaged in the regular classroom work--arithmetic, history, English, general science, and mechanical drawing. For the purpose of understanding the boys better, each was given a careful examination in the Psychopathic Laboratory, under the direction of Dr. H. C. Stevens. The Woolley tests were used as a part of this examination, being given by the writer and Mr. E. B. Thomas. This article is a report of the results of these tests. Prevocational education is described by Professor F. N. Leavitt as having a double purpose: (i) "to improve the courses of study in the elementary school, especially for those children who have not worked successfully under the prevailing methods found therein"; and (2) "to save for this education [in the higher schools] a much larger proportion of the school population, while at the same time giving information about, and practice in, some industrial work."' Prevocational education attempts to meet the pupil's needs by differentiating the courses in the upper grades, by reorganizing

1. Providing better synthesis among those introductory courses commonly referred to as the "foundations fields."-In this connection, a segment of the pre-service program at Yale University is described. 2. Providing direct experience with children and the community prior to student teaching.-Adelphi College and Northwestern University are used as illustrations of practice. 3. Improving the student-teaching placement.-Here, an aspect of the Agnes Scott-Emory Teacher Education Program is discussed. 4. Relating the "special fields" to the total program.-Practices at Stanford University and at the University of Wisconsin are used as examples. Throughout most of this paper, no differentiation is made between programs for secondary-school teachers and those for elementary-school teachers. With the exception of the last, all these problem areas are of acute concern to both levels, and the institutions cited do not differentiate in their curriculums so far as these specific phases are concerned. The fourth area, that of the special fields, takes on unique significance at the elementary-school level, and the illustrations used pertain expressly to it.

value. To meet this demand in English composition, it is necessary to make a careful survey of the expressional situations in ordinary experience both in school and out. Even a casual survey will suggest such activities as letter-writing, conversation, and observational reports. A more detailed cataloguing of experience will enable one to discover the functional character of such activities as group discussion, special-occasion talks (formal and informal), the keeping of personal memoranda, the giving of directions or instructions, and story-telling. If the list is extended to include the requirements of school experience, one may add such items as summaries, term papers, and reports of reading. Thus, there is a group of master activities which may be confidently adopted as centers of organization for a socialized curriculum in composition. Here unfortunately a great many stop. The activity is accepted as a basis for practice, but no standards of performance are provided by which the pupil may appraise his work. Or, if standards are provided, they are often careless pronouncements of opinion unsupported by consensus or by any of the procedures of careful analysis. This is the unbridged gap to which Charters' refers, the gap frequently found between accepted aim and prescribed subject matter. To determine satisfactory standards, each activity to be taught should be carefully studied. Satisfactory performance should be analyzed; expert opinion should be compiled; difficulties should be listed. Such analyses will help to determine the standards to be set up in the curriculum. They will be valuable, furthermore, in the discovery of technical devices by which the standards may be attained.

The question before us has been attracting the attention of the educational world for some time. A few years ago the leading educators and educational papers began the discussion of shortening the college curriculum. It was pointed out that we have been piling on to our educational requirements until it was beginning to take nearly half a lifetime for a professional man to begin his career. The same wave has now reached the elementary school. If we want to get our young men started in life at the proper age, we must save time all along the line, and the elementary school must come in for its share of curtailment as well as the college. Accordingly, we have had proposals of doing the work now alloted to the eight years of our elementary school in seven years and even six years. Superintendent Greenwood, of Kansas City, declares that we can do in seven years all we are now doing in eight, and actually do it better, for they have been doing it at Kansas City ever since 1867. If now we should make some apparently needful omissions, suggested by Soldan, McMurry, and others, we ought to be able to save at least one year more and complete the elementary work in six years. But to the recommendations of Mr. Greenwood, Superintendent Sabin and the superintendents of some of our New England cities object most decidedly. These men maintain that the time now at our disposal is too short, if anything, and that the nine years generally devoted to the grades in Massachusetts are none too many. The whole matter is in a state of chaos, and one cannot help feeling that many now taking part in the discussion are not aware of the real point at issue. The source of disturbance lies deeper than the shortening of the curriculum. The latter is but 482

S TUDENTS of library resources may be tempted to contrast the collections of the libraries of American military schools with the monumental holdings of larger civilian colleges and universities. The use of such a yardstick is inappropriate, because the importance of a library collection depends on other factors as well as size. The distinction of important military libraries lies in their subject specialization more than in the number of items collected. A number of the libraries which are the subject of this report1 have collections as unique as the curriculums they reflect. Others have unusual concentrations of resources that are not extensively duplicated elsewhere. The object of this paper is to make these libraries and their work better known to librarians.2 From first-hand surveys of the collections discussed, it analyzes the holdings of selected military librariesfirst by format and second by subjects covered.

It is the purpose of the present paper to ask certain questions as to the relationship which should prevail between the department of New Testament interpretation and the department of systematic theology in the light of the present methods of scholarship in these two departments. As the theological curriculum used to be defined, both departments were apparently working with the same material. Systematic theology was supposed to set forth scriptural doctrines. But this was also the task of the biblical theologian. Moreover, since it was assumed that the content of modern belief would be essen

In every high school the regular work in English is organized on a three-year or a four-year basis. As a rule the colleges and universities require for entrance three years of work in literature and composition. Small high schools frequently give only three years of this work. The J. Sterling Morton High School has four years of English in its curriculum. The pupils who are preparing for college and are pressed for time by reason of the requirements for college entrance are exempted from taking the fourth year of our English course. Because of this the fourth year of the work in English is planned to be an equivalent of the first year of the English work in college. With us, besides the regular English work, there are three supplementary types of work which are followed outside of the course in English. This supplementary work is designed to bring the English throughout the school under close surveillance. In the first place, each teacher occasionally becomes a teacher of English in conducting an exercise which we call "subject spelling." The subject-matter of this exercise for each class, viz., algebra, American history, general science, English, etc., comes from two sources: first, words found misspelled by the teacher of each subject in examining the written papers submitted by his pupils; and, secondly, words which the teacher adds to the list which are technical or peculiar to the subject and which should be in the vocabulary of a pupil who studies that subject. Every teacher in the high school, including the sewing, physical training, cooking, and drawing teachers, at regular intervals conducts this exercise, each in his own class, which is called "special spelling." A portion, perhaps ten minutes, of the regular recitation is devoted to this work. Thus every teacher in the school is by this process endeavoring to 670

In a great many ways the teaching of the biological sciences in the high school is unsatisfactory. In many schools the number of students electing such work is falling off; the interest in the work is not vital and sustained, which would indicate that the work is not related to the life of the students; the practical value of the material presented is not always evident. This paper plans to discuss the general point of view of biological teaching in the high school in the endeavor to discover some of the causes for the unsatisfactory condition and to offer a tentative remedy for the problems which seem unsolvable with present methods. This remedy advocates the teaching of applied science to the adolescent in place of the theoretical science now taught, in the belief that such material is better adapted both theoretically and practically to the needs of the secondary student. The secondary field is relatively the least organized of the great fields of education, grade school, high school, and college. It would seem that the high school has accepted subjects for the course of study without adapting them to the needs of her students or to the purposes of her work. She has had two great sources for her subjects, the college above, which has given her a body of material in method too remote from her pupils; and popular demands, which have given her a body of material such as commercial geography and history of commerce, which is relatively unorganized. I take it, the pressing work in the high-school curriculum at present is not one of getting new material, but rather of securing a secondary viewpoint for the material that we have in the course of study. We must modify the present subject-matter so as to relate it to the intellectual

It has long been conceded that English is a necessary part of every high-school curriculum. Most state and local courses of study require three years and some demand four years of work in English before the diploma of graduation is granted. Much has been said concerning the proper proportions of composition, rhetoric, and classics that should be included in these four years of work. Lengthy papers have been written as to whether formal English grammar should be taught in the third and fourth years of the high school, but until recently very little has been said about the "spoken word" in the curriculum. We glibly quote that "education is not preparation for life but is life"; educators say that we must make our high-school courses "more practical," and still we go on cramming education into the high-school pupil but pay very little attention to how that education is going to come out. What is more of an asset to the lawyer than to be able to plead his case effectively? How much business will the salesman get who does not have the ability to explain his wares and combat the opposing arguments? How high in the commercial world will a business man climb who cannot convince his associates that

This paper presents a model of curriculum development as it is practiced in modern curriculum projects. It is a naturalistic model in the sense that it was constructed to represent phenomena and relations observed in actual curriculum projects as faithfully as possible with a few terms and principles.1 The field of curriculum already can boast an outstandingly successful model of curriculum development based on the work of a generation of curriculum theorists from Franklin Bobbitt to Ralph W. Tyler. The formal elements of that model-the classical model-are the objective and the learning experience. Its logical operations are determining objectives, stating them in proper form, devising learning experiences, selecting and organizing learning experiences to attain given outcomes, and evaluating the outcomes of those experiences. This model has undergone fifty years of continuous development and use. It has facilitated the systematic study of education, and it has served as the basis for a respectable and growing educational technology. For all its successes, however, this classical model seems not to have represented very well the most characteristic features of traditional educational practice.2 In most cases when teachers or subject matter specialists work at curriculum development, the objectives they formulate are either a diversion

Those who see no good or who sense real harm in the attempts of schools to keep step with a changing world may desire to save themselves the time and the annoyance of reading this article. Frankly, the paper was not prepared for them. The writer sought to objectify the beliefs of persons committed to constant advance in educational offerings and procedures. He aimed to lend concreteness to the problems involved in retaining and expanding the "practical" courses and activities of the curriculum. He hoped to provide school administrators with statements assumed to be useful when opposition to new subjects is met and when earlier gains need to be fortified. He intended, in addition, to assist teachers in developing respect for the varied abilities, enthusiasms, and efforts of their fellow-workers.

LET me confess at once that my field of specialized competence is not library science. In a sense I am something of an interloper here, but this is not without distinct advantages, since it gives me a leverage into the problem under consideration that I might otherwise not have. It affords me, for example, a fresh look into the literature and the issues, unencumbered by preconceptions and prejudices. It permits me, too, a certain objectivity, since I have not already taken a position in the field that I must now defend and maintain. It seems to me that the crucial context within which the general theme of the conference, "New Directions in Public Library Development," must be considered is the problem of values and more especially the radical shift in values we as a people are currently undergoing. I believe this is as true for librarianship as it is for education or, for that matter, any existing social institution. Indeed, there is a peculiar-or on second thought perhaps not so peculiarparallelism between the present conceptual situation in librarianship and that in education.' One of the significant phenomena in education today is the dilemma posed by current theory that somehow the school must provide for the child simultaneously what wisdom requires, the market place demands, and the child himself wants. It need hardly be said that no institution can do all these things at once, or at least do them well, and the consequence of this dilemma is seen in the increasing strain between the child and the school, the parent and the teacher, the educational objectives and the school curriculum. In trying to explain the predicament into which we have gotten ourselves, the educator typically likes to allude to such things as the atomic age, technological change, mass society, mass communication, and such.2 And I find similarly that the librarian, in trying to explain the increasing strains in his field-for example, between those who argue that the library should provide the child with what he wants and those who argue that the library should provide the child with only what is "good" for him-also likes to allude to such things as the atomic age, technological change, mass society, and mass communication, although, to be sure, he tends to emphasize the television, radio, and moving-picture aspects of our changing society. It is as if just making these allusions would define the problem for us, clarify the issues, and suggest the solution. It seems to me, however, that this is not so-that for both the educator and the librarian these generalized allusions to environmental changes, real as these changes are of course, by-pass rather than go to the core of the matter. They do not by themCAlvT rpn.ll' -vnl1.in n.nvthlMna Anti 1bth I Parts of this paper, which are as relevant for education as for librarianship, have previously appeared in J. W. Getzels, "Changing Values Challenge the Schools," School Review, LXV (Spring, 1957), 92-102. 2 For a fuller analysis of this see G. D. Spindler, "Education in a Transforming American Culture," Harvard Educational Review, XXV, No. 3 (1955), 145-53.

THE aim of the present paper is to summarize evidence gathered in a study of the purposes dominating the curriculum changes in American city school systems during the period 1836-1944. For the most part, the data presented here are borrowed from a study previously published by the writer,' but additional data have since been gathered for more recent years in order to make possible an estimate of present trends in curriculum changes and to show the reasons for such changes. In the original study a total of 2,725 tabulations were shown for separate changes made or proposed in the curriculums of ten large city school systems during the period from 1836 to 1936.2 The ten cities were Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Cincinnati, Denver, Louisville, Oakland, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and Seattle. The data were gathered from original documents of all kinds published by the school systems during the hun

tioning and the curriculum practices of that institution. However, of equal importance to professionals, who are acting as change agents, is the question of how these institutions succeeded in bringing about fundamental reform. Much is speculative, and no definitive history of the transition has yet appeared, but certain important factors can be identified. In this paper I would like to discuss the role of the teachers'

UNDER THE TYPICAL colonial arrangement, the metropolitan power exercises control over its colonies' educational culture, i.e., the information, beliefs, and exhortations designed for transmission through the colonies' school system. Frequently, in drafting the curriculum and syllabi, the metropolitan power transmits generous quantities of its domestic curriculum and syllabi to its colonies. Thus, in the early 1900's schoolboys in India and Nigeria were learning the intricacies of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and memorizing the lists of English kings through the wars of succession, while schoolboys in French Indochina or West Africa were studying passages from Moliere and Victor Hugo and pointing out on maps of Paris the correct locations of the Louvre and Notre Dame. When a colony achieves political independence, one of the many tasks it must subsequently accomplish is the "decolonization" of its educational culture. This "decolonization" typically means rewriting the curriculum and syllabi, if only to accomplish the minimum of changing the "law-breaking insurgents" to the "nation's heroes" in the struggle for independence. Typically it extends beyond the minimum, involving a replacement of the metropolitan power's information, beliefs, and exhortations with those of the newly-independent nation. Enmeshed in this replacement are the new nation's definitions of its historical and current relationships specifically to its ex-metropolitan power but more generally to the West. This paper focuses on two aspects of the decolonization of educational culture: 1. How does a recently-independent nation present to its young its experiences under Western colonialism? 2. How does such a nation define for its young its post-independence relations with the West?

ONE hundred and twenty teachers in Grades I-VI in Zanesville think that the most important phases of conservation for their pupils are, in order: (i) learning to conserve personal belongings, such as clothing, books, paper, pencils, toys, etc.; (2) learning the real meaning of conservation, that is, use without waste; (3) learning how conservation benefits each pupil; (4) studying the interdependence of man and birds; (5) learning to observe minutely; and (6) studying the importance of topsoil. These six topics or objectives decrease from first to last in uniformity and strength among teachers' opinions. The first two were rated first and second by teachers in every grade. The next four topics showed some variation in their placement by teachers in different grades. The six objectives listed were chosen from a list of twenty-five submitted to the teachers for rating. The teachers making these selections had been introducing conservation education into the curriculum over a period of two and a half years. The emphasis given to this subject had varied widely among individual instructors, depending to some extent on the amount of interest, information, and ability reposing in each. Approximately one teacher in five had had special training in conservation, but the others depended on their own reading and observation. Many had had background training in biology, geology, geography, chemistry, health, economics, sociology, etc., which enabled them to assimilate quickly the conservation idea and viewpoint. First-grade teachers listed their choices in exactly the order given above. Second-grade teachers omitted the topic on topsoil and in fifth place chose the objective: to develop in the coming generation 367

This year, as we enter the last third of the twentieth century, it is possible to discern new educational patterns emerging in Western Europe. This phenomenon is particularly marked in the closing years of academic secondary education-the college-bound stream in the U.S.A., the sixth form in England, and their various Continental equivalents-which have been traditionally concerned with the nurturing of an elite. This paper deals with the trends and tendencies in this vital segment of any educational system. Comparisons are drawn mainly with what is happening in England. If it is "a view from the bridge" it is because England, more than any other country, links the cultural heritage of the Old World with the innovating force of the New. What kind of educational institutions should cater to the academically gifted young person aged between 15 and 19; what curriculum he should follow; and, upon completion of schooling proper, what further institutions he should enter, and upon what conditions: these are some questions that since the mid-fifties have been increasingly raised and now, a decade or so later, answers are beginning to be formulated. The comparative immobility of English thinking is contrasted with the dynamism of France and Sweden, and, to a much lesser extent, Western Germany.' Not that any solution can be definitive, for the speed of technological change precludes any such rigidity. This is particularly true as regards the structure of the types of institution designed to receive the academically gifted adolescent at age 15 or 16. An exception is West Germany, which remains elitist in its educational models. In the early nineteenth century the propaedeutical functions of the old facultas artium, hitherto within the ambit of the university, had been transferred to the upper grades-the Oberstufe--of the Gymnasium, to which they are still firmly attached in a seven-, or more usually, a nine-year course. This system persisted after the war, because it represented a link with a pre-Nazi tradition that had withstood the test of time. The Nazis, with their stress on the Deutsche Oberschule, had degraded the Humboldtian Gymnasium to the lowly status of a special form-Sonderform-of the secondary school. The clinging to an old tradition was also a reaction both against the effort of the Occupying Powers to impose a universal comprehensive highschool pattern, and against the Einheitschule that became the norm in East Germany. In countries, however, where comprehensive education has been introduced the academic secondary school has been truncated at the top. The motives for such a radical change in structure have been mixed. The new lycee in France, with a three-year course from 15 to 18, follows ideally on the polyvalent college of secondary education. The reform reaches back to the LangevinWallon Plan,2 which took its stand on social justice, affirming that the ideal was only realizable if pupils were under continuous guidance and all educational doors were kept open for as long as possible. The transformed Swedish gymnasiet, fully operative as from 1966, has also a three-year course, from 16 to 19, likewise following on a comprehensive school, but one of nine years' duration.3 In a social democracy such as Sweden the democratic impulsion to reform has also not been absent, but it has been reinforced by psychological findings that theoretical and practical aptitudes are not antimonies but rather dichotomies; a definitive bifurcation between them does not occur in the individual until middle adolescence. In England, as comprehensive secondary education gradually becomes accepted, the principle of the twoor threeyear sixth form college is gaining ground

THE STARTING point for this paper is the recent growth and acceleration in demand for the competent planning and management of education systems. I shall not attempt a comprehensive proof or explanation of this demand. That would be too lengthy a job, and one for which I am not well qualified. Instead I shall support my initial position briefly as follows. In a wide assortment of places and for a variety of reasons the demand on educational processes is changing. This change is one of both quantity and kind. In quantity, a larger number of people want and need more education. In kind, there is pressure for changes in quality of the curriculum and instruction, in subject matter, and in the form and content of the educational process. In one sense, these changes in kind are also changes in quantity because they tend to demand a greater contribution of scarce resources-more time of qualified people, more research, more imagination, more effort and wisdom generally. Though this tendency for change varies widely in its detail and intensity, certain characteristics are common enough to deserve mention. The pressure for change is persistent and broadly based, particularly as a result of the changes in quantity alluded to earlier. Next, the changes called for are generally rapid and extensive, more so than are readily available with existing managerial capabilities. Finally, there is a closely related increase in the complexity of educational processes. The net result is a pressure on those who manage educational systems far greater and more complex than they are accustomed to. This is the case to various degrees in both the developed and the emerging nations.

Why is it that Bob, an eighth-grade pupil, detests doing the problems of his daily mathematics assignment and usually does them with little attention to detail and accuracy and yet can balance his books perfectly for a paper route with a yearly turnover of several hundred dollars? May the fact that his spending money and clothing hinge on his job be the deciding factor in determining interest and accuracy? Educators have long realized that, where interest is lacking, learning lags. For ages the quest has been for methods of tying up the educative process with the life of the child. Unfortunately much of the material taught in eighth-grade mathematics has little or no relation to the immediate life of the pupil in or out of the school. One of the most practical subjects in point of use and potentially capable of becoming one of the most popular subjects in the school curriculum, mathematics has suffered great abuse in teaching. In an effort to determine to what extent mathematics functioned

This paper is not a discussion of the curriculum. Lest my omission of reference to the curriculum be misinterpreted, I wish to make it clear at the outset that I entertain the belief that one of the most important and most progressive changes being made in American education is the reorganization and expansion of the program of instruction. The reason why I do not address myself at this time to a treatment of the important problems of curriculum reconstruction is that I am convinced that the whole administrative framework into which the curriculum fits must undergo a thorough revision if a new program of training for citizenship is to be devised and to become truly effective. I am, therefore, taking advantage of this opportunity to present to a group of administrators some considerations which I believe should be very much in their minds as they supervise the organization of citizenship training in the school systems over which they preside. The schools of this country occupy a curious relation to other public institutions. They perform so significant a function for society as a whole and one which is of such supreme importance to all individuals in the state and to the life of the state itself that the law recognizes the schools as in an important sense detached from other civil jurisdictions. The courts have frequently had occasion to make pronouncements on the relation of school districts to municipalities and on the relation of boards of education to mayors and city councils. The judgments uniformly rendered in all cases hold that the school district is separate and distinct from the municipality. The school district is a creation of the state, deriving its prerogatives from the

We need some studies in high school which shall in some measure give the student a bird's-eye view of our industrial life. As it is now, in most cases the student finishes his high-school work with very little idea of the industrial life into which he is to go. The same argument that is urged for manual training may be applied to commercial geography. The industries have left the occupations of the home to be taken up in the factories. The boy and girl no longer have any opportunity to see these processes, yet, in order really to understand modem life they should have some knowledge of the great industries on which modern life depends. It is the purpose of this paper to discuss a line of development which we have followed in the De Kalb Township High School in the past four years in working over the subject of commercial geography. Commercial geography, as taught in the past, while apparently giving the student a knowledge of industrial life, has not in reality done so. I think those who are familiar with it will agree that it has been largely a mass of statistics, grouped around cities and countries, with very little material that could be called interpretative of modern life. Yet the writer believes that commercial geography, rightly interpreted, could be made one of the most valuable studies in the curriculum and one that would be

IF THERE is anything that might be considered axiomatic in comparative education, it is that forces outside the school critically influence instruction, learning and general academic behavior within it. The earliest systematic expression of this principle was probably made by Michael Sadler, whose approach to the study of education was marked by an awareness that schools are affected by a "thousand streams" and in turn account for only a small part of a nation's educational system.' The ascent of the Sadlerian approach in comparative education is attributable to a growing reaction, in the early part of the century, to what we may refer to as the "corporate" view of education, which was primarily concerned with organization and administration, curricula, enrolments and methods and procedures of teaching-that is, with the extrinsic qualities of schooling, in contrast to intrinsic qualities such as students' scholastic achievement. The Sadlerian school of thought, as developed by comparative historians such as Isaac Kandel, Nicholas Hans, Robert Ulich, and Vernon Mallinson, not only affirms the importance of extra-school forces and factors underlying a nation's school system, but holds that the most significant of these are intangible, impalpable, and spiritual in nature. The ideological orientation of a nation, and the unique character of its people, are the kinds of impalpable forces with which the Sadlerians have been preoccupied in their study of school systems. Their preoccupation derives from an assumption that such forces are essentially societal: that is, they are infused with sociocultural meaning having negligible relation to their material, empirically observable manifestations. This assumption, to be discussed in more detail below, is perhaps most noticeably displayed in Sadlerians' frequent claims that the study of education cannot be reduced to a science, that the use of experimental design is not sufficient to reveal the forces that shape education.2 The principal purpose of this paper is to demonstrate that the Sadlerian pre

A brief study was recently made in the Trenton Senior High School to find out something about the kind of leadership that comes to the surface in the free atmosphere of a modern high school. Data were collected concerning fifty-six pupils (thirty-three boys and twenty-three girls) who held positions of leadership in the school. Of these pupils, eleven held only elective positions; twenty-three, only appointive positions; and twenty-two, both elective and appointive positions. Among the elected officers were the officers of the student organizations and the captains of the athletic teams. Members of the editorial board of the school paper, members of the cast of the Senior play, managers of intramural athletic leagues, and cheer-leaders had been appointed. Seventy-five per cent of the leaders were registered in the academic curriculum, and many of these were definitely planning to attend higher institutions of learning. Eighteen per cent were registered in commercial curriculums, and the remaining 7 per cent were scattered among three other curriculums. In this school every pupil is given a reading-ability quotient. The median for the school is 91.5, and the range is from 50 to 145. The median reading-ability quotient of the group of leaders is Iio, with a range of 70.5-145. The reading ability of this group is shown to be far above the average for the school. The academic marks of the group of leaders are also much higher than the marks of the entire school. Of 257 marks given the leaders, only one is a failing mark. The distributions of the academic marks of the group of leaders and of the marks of the entire school for the second semester of the

IN A recent article in Fortune, Sheldon Zalaznick' has argued that the training received by students in M.B.A. programs at U.S. graduate schools of business does not qualify them better for a career in business than does the experience that bachelor-degree holders of equal basic capacity and drive gain by spending two years actually working in business. The author based his judgment in part on interviews with businessmen, many of whom hold this view and who explain the margin of starting salaries of M.B.A. over B.A. holders as a premium paid to men whose superior intelligence and drive is assured by the business schools' selection procedure and work load. This judgment about the value of a graduate education for business is rather disturbing to professors in M.B.A. programs who are teaching highly sophisticated technical tools of analysis in a broad spectrum of fields relevant to the problems faced by business managers. According to this view, business would be served better not by further refinements in the curriculum but by improvements in the selection process of students and by increasing the work demands upon students so that they can prove better the strength of their drive and willingness to work hard. This view is also disturbing to foundations, industry, and governments which have donated resources to establish and expand the nation's graduate schools of business. Even if one would consider that these resources were primarily aimed at the support of faculty producing a stock of knowledge relevant for the business community, the expansion of M.B.A. programs is inefficient, since, according to Zalaznick, the interaction between faculty and students necessary for a successful research program does occur with doctoral and not M.B.A. candidates. The expenditure of a given quantity of resources on the expansion of doctoral programs is therefore more efficient in terms of research results than is its expenditure on an M.B.A. program. Moreover, many of the business leaders throughout the world who have been recommending the establishment of U.S.type M.B.A. programs in their own countries should re-examine their motives, because such programs may not result in increasing the efficiency of their industrial and commercial establishments. Because these views of the M.B.A. education appear to be widely shared by businessmen and because of their significance for the future of M.B.A. programs and the allocational efficiency of educational resource expenditures, it is important to analyze carefully the logical and empirical validity of the reasoning on which this view is based. The following analysis is illustrative * I acknowledge the helpful comments that my colleagues at the Finance Department and Donald Blankertz of the Wharton School made on an earlier draft of this paper.

T HE questions which are raised in this paper are two. First, do not the problems connected with professional business education justify the creation of an active, full-time agency to help in their solution? And, second, should not that agency be the American Association of Collegiate Schools of Business? In practical terms, affirmative answers mean suggesting that the Association convert from a more or less casual society of deans of professional schools, on a mininum-budget basis, meeting annually for purposes of acquaintance and discussion, to a more operational form of organization. Such an organization would have a permanent home-office address and a minimum permanent staff available to members on call; it would also have recognized responsibilities for the procurement and dissemination of information, for the explicit formulation of standards, for formal and informal accreditation, and for accredited representation before public, semipublic, and private bodies. The argument for the action proposed above rests principally on the premises of size and complexity of the industry known as business education, especially on the college level. At this point it may be well to disclaim explicitly any conclusion that size of enrolment is the sole or even the primary measure of the importance of a field of concentration in college or university work. No such implication is intended. Admittedly, there are other standards than registrations by which significance is measured. The trouble with most of them is their lack of objectivity and the great difficulty of obtaining agreement on premises derived from them. This may be illustrated by examining the criterion of "function," which would probably rank high on any list of measures of value. The futility of attempting to settle the relative importance to society of the lawyer, the teacher, the business administrator, the doctor, or the minister is immediately apparent, to say nothing of the problem of determining the places to be occupied by the members of the nineteen other professional groups listed in the American Council on Education's Guide.2 The disclaimer entered above, however, does not eliminate student enrolments as a criterion. While not, perhaps, the sole or the primary standard, it is still a very important measure of significance-more important, possibly, in the private views of some college and university administrators than they would be willing to admit publicly. Also, it has the virture of objectivity. The general argument may therefore be stated somewhat tentatively as follows: (a) business administration, as a discipline, is sufficiently institutionalized to be incorporated into the curriculums of professional schools of college or university

T HIS article aims to provide evidence that a business game is a more effective method of teaching some aspects of planning than is a series of cases. The author describes an evaluation of the use of a business game as an adjunct to a case course by means of a comparative experiment with two graduate-level classes in production management. One might ask: Why seek experimental evidence of the effect of one pedagogic method when few other teaching methods have been explicitly evaluated? One reason is to gain acceptance within established curriculums that have been developed slowly by experience and proved by the quality of their graduates. Perhaps of greater importance, however, is the surprisingly rapid growth of the the use of games in management training in spite of the substantial resources required to develop a meaningful executive decision game. A recent article, for example, noted more than twenty-one different games in use as part of business curriculums, with more to be added in the future.' The amount of professional time such devices can absorb is exemplified by Cohen and colleagues, who has each spent from a third to all of their time during academic sessions over the past four or five years developing the Carnegie Game. Granted that this game is the most elegant in operation; nevertheless, even the development of such a relative straightforward model as the UCLA No. 3 game required more than three man-months' time of a professor, a programmer, and two research engineers. Until now, this commitment to develop games has been based upon the intuitive feelings of game advocates derived from the dynamic and flexible characteristics that the game or decision simulation possesses. This paper attempts to provide some experimental results to support this intuitive feeling as to the usefulness of gaming as a teaching device. In addition, a description of the game is provided to demonstrate how and where in the curriculum such an expensive methodology might be utilized. Finally, it should be noted that the game session was introduced and evaluated in an ongoing teaching situation where the learning potential of a given amount of available students' time is the main criterion. The pedagogical reasons for using a game in the production management course at the Harvard Business School were to provide production-planning decision experience and to demonstrate the interdependency of functional decisions within a firm. The game was used to stress the dimension of time in planning and to provide a realistic problem that would give the students some feedback to evaluate their own development. The UCLA Model No. 3 game was considered * Assistant professor of business administration, Graduate School of Business Administration, Harvard University.