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VOLUME XI JULY, 1935 NUMBER z CONFERENCE NUMBER Proceedings of the Twenty-third Annual Conference of Southern Mountain Workers, presented in the order of the program. Is There a Mountain Problem? -Frank. L. McVey 1 -D. F. Folger S The History and Aims of Cumberland Homesteads Curriculum Enrichment and Redirection of Rural Secondary Schools in the Mountain Area The Larger Parish New Opportunities for Mountain Communities The Consumers' Cooperative Movement: Its Meaning and Methods -Frank W. Cyr 8 -Malcolrrr Dana 17 -B. L. Hrcmmel 21 -J. P. Warbasse24 A Suggested Reading List Book Reviews Published Quarterly at Berea College, Berea, Ky., in the interest of fellowship and mutual understanding between the Appalachian Mountains and the rest of the nation MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK VOLUME XI JULY, 1935 NUMBER 2 IS THERE A MOUNTAIN PROBLEM? FRANK L. McVEY The title of this article indicates how new I am to the question of mountain economy, mounÃ‚Âtain life and mountain philosophy. When asked on the telephone for my topic by the efficient secretary, I hurried through my mental inventory and grasped at the first title that seemed to fit what I had in mind to say. I have searched the literature on the subject and find this question has been given lengthy consideration by compcÃ‚Âtent speakers and writers. In consequence, I feel a bit amateurish in discussing it. Today I am standing before an audience composed of people who have been acquainted for many years with the conditions and the work going on in the mountains. I am in the position of trial by speech, but like the young preacher who goes "candidating," I must be judged by the earnestÃ‚Âness of purpose and the character of the analyses of the problem that I can bring to this audience. What is the process by which such a question should be approached and an answer sought? The one usually followed is the simple scientific proÃ‚Âcedure of stating the conditions, then analyzing them, reaching a tentative conclusion, and testÃ‚Âing the conclusion by repeated trials and further knowledge. From such methods something rather definite should come if the search for facts has been careful and the testing of them has been adequate. At the risk of repeating what is known and what is understood, I shall follow the procedure just outlined. The territory called the Appalachian area is .i limited geographic division of some seventeen and a half million acres extending 600 miles diagonally northeast to southwest from 87 degrees to 78 degrees longitude and 33 degrees to 37 degrees latitude. In this area, about 70 per cent the size of the State of Kentucky, there are living 1,665,Ã‚Â907 people. Of this number 147,154 are said to be engaged in mining, 148,813 in agriculture, and 54,987 in manufacturing. This Appalachian region is not to be confused with the Southern Highlands in which 6,000,000 people live. There is an old belief that the people of the Appalachian region are a marooned people, held there by geographic and economic conditions. This view has been presented in books and periÃ‚Âodicals and is quite generally believed. A recent study, however, would indicate that the presence of the people in the Appalachian region cannot be accounted for in that way. It will be recalled that the trail to the east from Kentucky was through the Cumberland Gap. Much of the imÃ‚Âmigration into the state came this way. As time went on this trail was the scene of conÃ‚Âsiderable activity. There were blacksmith shops, inns, and settlements along the road. Probably the easiest way to get into the Virginia and Maryland areas was by this road, until the comÃ‚Âing of the steamboat and the railroad, which shifted travel to other routes. It appears from the study of land titles and other records in the Blue Grass region of Kentucky, and possibly of Tennessee as well, that some of the people seeking a location there, beÃ‚Âcause of the confusion of titles and the compeÃ‚Âtition for land in the Blue Grass, returned to the valleys of the Appalachian region. They settled there, built houses, and developed a comfortable community life. In support of this statement the United States census of 1850 gives the names of families, their size and their property. The list indicates that family property was valued from $3,000 to $50,000, showing that there were well-to-do people living in the mountain counties, with a considerable distribution of wealth. What series of causes brought on the so-called mounÃ‚Âtain problem with its crowded coves and creek banks, and isolated these people in the hills of the Appalachian region? Page 2 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 193 S There are a number of reasons for the change in the situation. The first is the shift of travel to the Ohio River, where the steamboat was used. Then construction of railroads resulted in the abandonment of old trails. Where once there was considerable travel, the new methods of transportation left the mountain population far from the newer lines of travel. Another reason is to be found in the increased population which forced the people into the hills and adjacent coves. How tremendous was the influence of population in bringing about these results is to be found in the statement that in the period 1900-1930 the increase in the number of people in the Appalachian countries was 55 per cent, as against 33 per cent in the other counties in the eight states. Larger families tend to reduce per capita value, and this in turn makes it difficult to maintain schools and public roads. In this area 676 children under five years of age were found to each 1,000 women of fifteen to forty-four years of age. For the remaining porÃ‚Âtion of the United States the data show 391 chilÃ‚Âdren under five years of age to each 1,000 women of fifteen to forty-four years of age. Meanwhile the continued abuse of the land and forests went on and practically destroyed the timber in less than a century. There was also a marked tendency to divide the family patrimony into smaller and smaller parcels of land, which increased the difficulty of living. The industries of mining coal and cutting timber were highly unstable. This caused periods of considerable prosperity contrasted with those of poverty. Meantime, for a century biological and economic selection of the population went on with the reÃ‚Âsult that the better groups were moving to bettcr sections, leaving a lower type of population. Thus the whole situation was more and more affected by isolation, poor roads, low educational standÃ‚Âards, poorer schools and lower intelligence. There is more ill health in this area than there should be. The prevailing diet is productive of ill health and there is a considerable death rat;, from typhoid, paratyphoid and tuberculosis. The situation in this area in regard to crime is due to the conflict of a people with new ideas and codes that seem to them to be a menace to their own social order, and an effort on the part of the world to break down their customs. Not understanding the newer social organization, the people have tried to combat it. Lack of educaÃ‚Âtional facilities has allowed such a viewpoint to continue. The whole situation may in the main be traced to the inability of the people to sustain schools and roads, and their consequent isolation. In the Department of Agriculture Miscellaneous Bulletin Number 205, "Economic and Social Conditions in the Southern Appalachians," them are some very interesting data relating to schools and churches. According to this study, there were 171 counties in the area, which had 14,423 churches. This was in the year 1926. In order to see this picture a little more clearly we reÃ‚Âduce it to square miles and find 187 churches to each 1,000 square miles of territory, or one church to each five square miles. There are twenty-three denominations that have a hundred or more churches. The Baptists prevail to the extent of 39 per cent and the Methodists to 33.4 per cent. There are, according to this bulletin, ninety-eight denominations having churches in this area. The preachers, in most instances, are engaged in other occupations, only one-sixth of them living in the communities in which their churches are located. Of their training, this bulletin states that four-fifths attended neither seminary nor college. At this point I want to say as emphatically as I can, that these statements do not apply to all of the so-called Appalachian region, but to some parts of it. It should be kept in mind that there are many farms in this region and that there are fertile valleys where living compares favorably with that elsewhere. Conditions are by no mean static, but constantly changing. In fact it should be pointed out that a great area has been done an injustice by lumping it with the rest of this territory. Some of the area is as good as any land, and the people there are as industrious and prosperous as those in the most favored parts of the United States. It is difficult, if not imposÃ‚Âsible, to apply the word "mountain" to the probÃ‚Âlems found in other parts of this area, for the problems are the same as those found elsewhere when the population has been over-developed and economic resources have been abused. The question arises: what can be done to meet ,July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 3 the conditions and problems which spring out of this area? Certainly, the efforts here and there to better educational and living conditions of small groups have been productive of good reÃ‚Âsults, but this is not taking care of the problem in a large way. It is essential that war be de Glared upon the situation. I use this phrase merely to cover a procedure. We have started campaigns, usually for short periods, but war is always continued until its objective is won. The tactics in a campaign and in a war differ considerably. One requires a short, quick push, the other attempts to coordinate economic, poliÃ‚Âtical and military forces to bring the conflict to an end. If we apply this principle to the problem before us, there are things that can be done. These I divide into material things and the use of intellectual and spiritual forces. The first material things that ought to be proÃ‚Âjected are roads into this isolated region. Ther;: are those who oppose this view. They think the people should be allowed to remain in isolation, but the fact is, the people are going down hill while the isolation continues. Construction of roads would bring employment to a considerable number of people, and it would open the way to tourists and to tourist business. It would also provide an outlet to local products. Another objective in this war would be . to launch an energetic and sympathetic movement by the combined strategy and forces of the various state boards of health. Distinct efforts should be made to establish hospitals where hospitalization could be provided for the population and at the same time assist materially the work of the docÃ‚Âtors. The general effect of such a movement by the eight states would result in the material betÃ‚Âterment of sanitation and health. It is quite evident to those who have studied the situation that forest areas will have to be enÃ‚Âlarged by state and federal agencies, for the simple reason that the stand of timber in this area is largely low grade, and it will be a long time before timber can be a source of living. Public ownership is the only way a real forestry plan can be made effective for land use in the Appalachian region. A considerable study of the situation has been made and present plans include an acreage of 6,000,000, or about one-third of the area. Another material thing that can be done is to build dams in many of the present streams for stopping floods, conserving water and providing fishing preserves. This also would provide employment in caring for streams, proÃ‚Âviding boats and supplies for fishermen who visit the area. For a number of years now the coal industry has been in a low state financially and ecoÃ‚Ânomically. With new inventions and discoveries, however, the use of steam will undoubtedly be greater than it has been, even in the immediat;. past, but the fact remains that the coal industry needs to be reorganized. Competitive agencies are at war, coal is over-produced, the number of miners is held at the high production point, and great misery is experienced in the region beÃ‚Âcause of intermittent employment. There is an effort to do something, but it is a slow movement. Many evils continue in the coal industry. A greater distribution of workers, so that large groups would not be concentrated in areas where there is not enough employment for all, would relieve many a disturbed region. Certainly, in these areas where the coal industry prevails, public works should be planned, so that better schools, recreation and other things may be provided for the population. The large sum of money recently appropriated by Congress should point the way by which this could be done. So much for the material things that could be done in this area by concentrated and purposeful panning. There are, however, a good many intellectual forces that should be utilized in a larger degree. The first of these is a careful conÃ‚Âsideration of the educational system that would meet the needs of the people in the mountain areas. In these schools there should be the right emphasis on diet, on sanitation and the mainÃ‚Âtenance of health. There ought to be a program of training in the operation of the farm and of the home. Instruction should be given in first aid, in nursing and in maintaining health. As simple as such a program is, many difficulties stand in its way. An entire new group of teachers will have to be trained in the procedure that i points in this direction. The rural schools need a new program and that new program can hardly come into being before there are teachers with Page 4 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 new methods for education in the mountain areas. There is no way to provide these teachers except through the colleges, and the hope is the colleges will see the need of a wider training for the rural teacher. The influence of the teacher with that training would be very great indeed in every school district that employed well-trained teachers. Along with the development of an educational program should go an active search for new opÃ‚Âportunities. What the people of this area need is new guides in finding these opportunities. They have been held back by the experiences and outÃ‚Âlook of the past and now there are not enough occupations for them to follow in the old way, so one of the important things is to find new callings. This is a difficult task, requiring new technique and a new knowledge. No doubt there are many things that can be done, but the average teacher knows ncihing about them, so that the colleges must not only undertake to pro- vide a better-qualified teacher, but also one with a wider knowledge of rural needs and rural conÃ‚Âditions. Another intellectual force to be used in this war upon conditions existing in the Appalachian region is the maintenance, in fact, the insistence upon church unity. The quotation from the bulletin I referred to above noted ninety-eight different denominations in the area mentioned. There is no united program among them and they do not understand each other's field and each other's purpose. In the main they do not appreciate the economic problems with which their people are confronted. Emphasis must be put on unity and understanding of the educational program required. The setting aside of denomÃ‚Âinational prejudice, and an honest effort to know each other, would go a long way in bringing about not only church unity, but the solution of other problems as well. Is there a mountain problem? I asked in the beginning of this discussion, but I think I can say at the close, the mountain problem is not one indigenous to the people of the Appalachian region. It is the problem that exists in many parts of the country. Wherever there is a comÃ‚Âbination of poor land, low per capita wealth, isolation and its resultant ignorance, disease, and poverty, you will find the same kind of situation. The problem is one for understanding and apÃ‚Âpreciation of the difficulties with which the people are faced. There is one way in which the probÃ‚Âlem can be solved, and that is in taking up the work for the duration of the war. In doing this we must have a long view, one that is wide enough to include national trends and national problems. Much has been done by the churches and organiÃ‚Âzations everywhere they may be at work, but the changing of general conditions can only be accomplished by considering the great movement in which we can all have a part. The suggesÃ‚Âtions I have made in this paper point to some of the ways in which it could be done. The success- J ful outcome of such a war rests with time, underÃ‚Âstanding, and with the cooperation of the agencies now at work, in company with an aroused publi opinion. The recent appropriation made by Congress for public works and public sanitation holds a hope for accomplishment in the Appalachians. Energetic and thoughtful planning would be the first step, the second, to place such plans before the federal authorities. Never was there such a chance. The war may be won right now, if the mountain workers catch the vision and interpret it into action that calls for money and help from the federal government. July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page S The History and Aims o f Cumberland Homesteads D. F. FOLGER A very short paragraph in the National ReÃ‚Âcovery Act set aside $25,000,000 for subsistence homesteads to re-distribute the over-balance of population in industrial areas. The Subsistence Homestead Division was set up under this act in the Department of the Interior. Field men were sent out from Washington to study situations and set up the homestead proÃ‚Âjects. Dr. Homer L. Morris, who had spent a year under the American Friends Service ComÃ‚Âmittee in the soft-coal fields of West Virginia, came to Tennessee and found many coal mines and lumber camps closed. Hundreds of families were stranded with little if any hope of ever again getting employment at their old jobs. It was for these families chiefly that Cumberland Homesteads was projected. After careful study of available lands in tracts large enough to acÃ‚Âcommodate several hundred families, a site was chosen in Cumberland County, four miles south of Crossville, Tennessee. The University of Tennessee, county agricultural agents and other cooperated in making studies of the soil, climate and natural resources. Several factors helped determine the selection of the site. Three highways and one railroad cross the eleven-thousand-acre tract. The markets of Kn.oxville, Chattanooga, and Nashville arc e'ly accessible. The land is on the plateau, asi 1 where the families available for homesteading have lived, and therefore they would not have to be moved any distance from their native counties. The natural resources of the land are very valuable. The timber was cut off some twenty years ago, but a second crop of oak and pine has come on. There are several quarries of beautiful Crab Orchard sandstone on the land. It is considered one of the best looking and most eily handled building stones in America. An asi 1 1 abundance of sand is also available. The soil and climate are well adapted to trucking, which is to be desired in an attempt to combine agriculture and industrial employment for homesteaders. A local advisory board composed of a member of the University of Tennessee faculty, two busiÃ‚Âness men, a local minister, and Dr. Morris launched the Cumberland project I in January, 1934. The board employed Mr. F. O. Clark as Project Manager, Mr. W. M. Stanton as ArchiÃ‚Âtect, and myself as Assistant Manager. One of our first tasks was to start clearing land and building some barns. We bought a saw mill, and used the timber secured in clearing the land to make our lumber. We opened quarries, and soon had houses started. Applications for homeÃ‚Âsteads began pouring in. The field workers under my supervision studied the applicants. Within a few weeks over three thousand families applied. The field workers went into the communities and studied the reputations of applicants, to see whether or not they were considered by reputable people of the community to be honest, hardÃ‚Âworking, and cooperative, whether or not they drank too much liquor, whether or not they had accumulated any property or other savings, and a number of other factors about the characters of the applicants. This preliminary work enabled us to eliminate many applicants as unsuited for the thing we were trying to do at Cumberland Homesteads. The field workers then went into the homes of some fifteen hundred cases that looked promising, to continue the investigations. We tried in these home visits to explain what was involved in homesteading, and told applicants that we were interested in building a new community in which people could have opportunity of working toÃ‚Âgether for the common good. We were interested in people with the cooperative spirit, fir we wanted them to work together in church and school, in buying and marketing, in the daily tasks of building homes, clearing land, making roads, and, above all, in building the spiritual community. This emphasis created an expecÃ‚Âtancy in the minds of those selected for this Page 6 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 different life, and it has helped greatly in workÃ‚Âing out our problems thus far. After the field workers made their reports, a committee studied them and began selecting families in groups of from ten to twenty-five, calling the husbands to the project for work. A boarding hall was set up and men bunked in the newly-erected barns. Part of the selecting proÃ‚Âcess is this work test. The applicant has an opÃ‚Âportunity while working with us to learn more about the project, and we have the same privÃ‚Âilege of observing him. Some men have not liked the way we do things; and we have not apÃ‚Âproved of the way some men have failed to work and to enter into the spirit of the place. Those men have gone. After the husbands have worked for a few weeks, and we get barns errected, families are brought in to live in the barns while the houses are being erected. We floor and line the barns, so that they are frequently better houses than the cabins and mining camp houses from which the families have moved. We have been experimenting with a number of things at Cumberland. One of the more interÃ‚Âesting projects has been our plan of labor. The homesteaders have no money to make cash down payments when contracting to purchase homeÃ‚Âsteads, but they do have their labor, for which there has been no market. Therefore we pay the worker for one-third of his time and credit his acÃ‚Âcount with two-thirds. This system of credit labor enables us to work men in crews and to get more efficiency. No man could clear his land, fence it, and build his house alone. Also by coopÃ‚Âerating with other homesteaders he is able to work at the task he prefers throughout the entire buildÃ‚Âing of the project. Some of the men, having sons working with them, have accumulated as many as 2500 hours of credit in a year. The credit hours have equal value regardless of what the men are doing. All of the work is necessary and must be done. The men doing common labor are as essential to the comÃ‚Âpletion of the project as the men doing the most skilled tasks. We do pay different rates to the men for the cash hours-fifty cents an hour for common labor, sixty cents for semi-skilled labor, and seventy-five cents an hour for skilled labor. This serves as an incentive to learn, and men try to become more skilled to get the higher rate for their cash hours. Many things are possible under the credit hour system that would not be possible with us otherÃ‚Âwise. Our appropriation is for building only. No funds are available for social work, medical care, or education, and we needed a visiting nurse. The wife of a homesteader, a woman trained for this work, who has had considerable experience at it, now works with the physician, receiving credit-hours but no cash. The men are willing to help build her home while she cares for the sick. We could get no funds from the county or state for schools, so our school teachers are working on the same basis. Thus by a simple manner of bookkeeping we are able to get services for the community which we could not otherÃ‚Âwise have. At the very beginning of our work we saw the need for medical services. Accidents are sure to come when six hundred men work on a project, and sickness is also certain. Then too, we needed to give applicants for homesteads physical examÃ‚Âinations. So we employed a physician for a few months until we had enough families living on the project to care for his services. Each family that cares to enter into the cooperative for mediÃ‚Âcal care pays a monthly fee of one dollar, which pays for some drugs and the physician's salary. This arrangement is voluntary for the homesteadÃ‚Âers. Most of them take advantage of it, but some prefer to continue the services of former family physicians. One of the projects we are working on is a funeral association and hospital fund. Funerals are expensive affairs when handled by undertakers. What we are planning to do is to make our own caskets in the cooperative furniture shop, and work out our own arrangements by having groups of men take turns at funerals as deaths occur. We found very shortly after calling the first homesteaders, that many of them wanted to learn new trades. For example, two men from the coal mines wanted to learn to lay stone. We put them to work carrying stone, mixing mortar, cutting stone, and observing masons. Gradually they worked into actual setting of stone, and within five months these men were able to build houses. Masons who had been at the work for fifteen years admitted these men could lay as much stone July, 193 S MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 7 as they could, and better than some of them. This has happened in many cases since, for there are possibilities in the homesteaders that will come out if the opportunity is afforded them to learn. The old generalization, "once a miner, always a miner," is not true. The opportunities for a larger life in a comÃ‚Âmunity of three hundred and fifty families are alÃ‚Âmost unlimited. If we can realize one=half of our dreams for Cumberland Homesteads, it will be one of the most desirable communities in America. The people are mountain people, but they respond to new ideas and new ways of living about as readily as any of us. There are latent possibilities in the families we have, which we hope to see them develop. I can speak only generally about our aims. We cannot be more specific about the nature of the community twenty years hence than the early settlers of America could predict the United States of today. We feel that the people should have a share in determining what the future life of the colony will be. We do want the people to have more economic security. We want also to build a community in which people can feel their children will have opportunity to grow in an enÃ‚Âvironment that is wholesome and in which good character may result. We find we do not change human nature simply by moving people from one community to a new one: re-education is a longer process. Yet we hope to build an educational system into the total life of the community, beÃ‚Âginning and working with the problems that are real for the people. We have hoped that we might see religion havÃ‚Âing more meaning and becoming more real for the homesteaders. The homesteaders have or- ganized their own community church and church school. We hope that they may continue to work together in their religious life without thought of denominational competition and disputes, as they are working together in all other things. We shall probably see this happen if the over-zealous denominational leaders will stay away from the project and give the people an opportunity to work out their own problems. But if outsiders think denominational loyalty more important, they will probably split up the community and deÃ‚Âstroy a real opportunity for developing something sorely needed in American life. We plan to organize the people into a producÃ‚Âers' and consumers' cooperative. This will not be for homesteaders only, but will be open to any of our neighbors who care to enter in the proper spirit. We are also to have recreational facilities -a recreational park with a lake, boat houses, cabins, museum, recreational building, hiking trails, and so on. How will the people pay out? The average cost of a homestead in cash is $2,300. The loan is for thirty years at three per cent interest. This makes the payments about ten dollars a month. Most sharecroppers would pay more than that to rent a place such as one of our homesteads. We feel that the combination of subsistence farming and partÃ‚Âtime employment in industry will provide the needed cash. The most difficult problem we have, of course, is the problem of human nature. ChangÃ‚Âing old patterns of thinking and feeling is diffiÃ‚Âcult, but not impossible. Some day we may be able to plant corn in either the light or dark of the moon, or kill the fatted hog when convenient! And people may learn that we can have more by giving more to others. Page 8 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 Curriculum Enrichment and Redirection of Rural Secondary Schools in the Mountain Area FRANK W. CYR The high schools of the mountain area repreÃ‚Âsent an important phase of secondary education in the United States. They are pioneers serving a pioneer society. They often constitute the one avenue through which great numbers of youth may learn how to develop in their homes and communities a richer, fuller, more wholesome life, or through which they may pass out into the world beyond and find their places as useful active citizens in communities elsewhere. These mountain schools make a vital contribuÃ‚Âtion to the lives they touch. But they also make an important contribution to American secondary education as a whole. This contribution is the preservation of the pioneer spirit. This spirit is hard to analyze. It includes a real faith in eduÃ‚Âcation, a deep-seated desire to learn, and the energy and enthusiasm which lead youth to atÃ‚Âtack their work with eager interest. This spirit of eager desire was one of the most vital factors in early American education. Now that public high schools have become so common that they are available to 57 per cent of our youth of high school age, and that compulsory attendÃ‚Âance has kept the less interested in school, much of that spirit has waned. It will not be until the modern high school with all its facilities and equipment can recapture some of the old pioneer spirit with its interest in and enthusiasm for its work that American secondary education will realize its richest possibilities. Before we can understand our high schools of today, and before we examine and attack their problems, it is necessary to know something of their history. It is particularly fitting that w:. think of the history of the secondary school this year when we are celebrating the three hundredth anniversary of secondary education in the United States. Just three hundred years ago the first Latin Grammar School was opened in MassaÃ‚Âchusetts. This school was organized to prepare students for college. The tradition of the Latin Grammar School is still with us and often in our small high schools we are offering only college preparatory courses when a very small per cent of the pupils ever enter college. On the other hand there was a movement several years ago to abolish all college preparatory courses in the rural high school and offer only courses which led directly to farming and farm life. These schools were often built in the open country, and finally became known as cornfield high schools. They were as unfair to students wishing to prepare for college as the Latin Grammar Schools to those who wished to farm. Today, modern transportation and communicaÃ‚Âtion are breaking down the barriers between town and open country, and building united communities. Neither the college preparatory curriculum nor the cornfield school alone is adeÃ‚Âquate. The small rural secondary school must offer a program which will meet the needs of each individual pupil, whatever they may be. At first when America was young, our whole population was rural and all our schools were rural. Then, as tile industrial age came upon us, cities grew, industries sprang up, and soon "bigger" and "better" became synonymous in the American mind. Somehow quantity and quality were considered the same thing. If one city had a few more inhabitants than another, or if one corporation did more business than another, it was better; if one man weighed a few more pounds than another, he was considered better. The fact that bigness 'does not always mean greater quality, and sometimes means even less quality, was lost sight of altogether. This false view penetrated our educational thinking and as the country grew the misconception became imÃ‚Âbedded in our minds that the larger a school the better it was. We accepted the belief that a large school was a good school and a small school a July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 9 poor school. Attention was directed to the deÃ‚Âvelopment of large schools and the small schools were left to shift for themselves. This was done on the theory that the small school was only a small edition of the large, that its value was in proportion to its size, and that it could attai:I its highest usefulness by blindly imitating the larger school. The chief attention given to the smaller school was to condemn it: much was written of the weaknesses of the small high school. It has been condemned because of the difficulties of fiÃ‚Ânancing, the low salaries, inadequate training and high turnover of the teaching staff, the narrow, meager curriculum which fails to meet real needs, the lack of adequate administration and superÃ‚Âvision, poor buildings and equipment, and the lack of extra-curricular activities. In many of these respects the small school is weaker than its larger brother; in many cases the charges brought against it are not true. In most cases there i, weakness because of a blind imitation of the large school by the small, not because smallness inÃ‚Âherently means a narrow, meager educational program. As already pointed out, the small school can never develop an adequate educational program through blind imitation of the large school. The small school has been blindly imitating the large school, or mourning its inability to do so. Last fall in driving less than one hundred miles through the middle west, I counted four small high school buildings of the factory type, three stories high, none of which had more than four rooms on a floor. A one-story building would have been more economical, more easily heated, better protected against dust storms, and more appropriate to its surroundings. Why the threeÃ‚Âstory buildings? Because large high schools often have three stories. In another case a small high school of one hundred pupils planned a whop suite of rooms for science. There was a small physics laboratory, for eight pupils, a small chemÃ‚Âistry laboratory of the same size, and between them a lecture room with demonstration tables and raised seats. Why three rooms, each too small, when one large room would have made possible a much more satisfactory science proÃ‚Âgram? Because a large high school of one thou- sand pupils, nearby, had a suite of three large rooms designed to meet its needs. Imitation, however, is not confined to school buildings. Teachers in large schools usually teach several sections of the same class, and thus have only two or three subjects, all in the same field. Teachers in small schools teach as many as five or six different subjects in several subject fields, yet we require exactly the same training of them as that designed for teachers of large schools. We cannot expect other than overburdened and poorly trained teachers in the small school so long as we expect them to be specialists in four to six different fields. Most small high schools operate a schedule of classes, each with a particular type of work which all members of the class must do alike. Classes meet regularly each day from forty to fifty minutes even though there are only fifteen, ten, or even five in the class. Why should it take exactly the same length class period to teach a class of five as of fifty? Here again the small high school suffers from imitation of its bigger brother. The second way we cannot develop effective small schools is closely akin to the first. We canÃ‚Ânot develop a broad rich curriculum as long as we hold as our ideal a small school which is deÃ‚Âsigned in the usual pattern but heavily endowed. Two weeks ago I visited a small wealthy private school in New York City. It had ninety-nine pds in high school and one hundred and thirtv- upi I nine in the elementary grades. It was housed in d ten-story building with a playground on the roof and a swimming pool in the basement. Them were fifteen members of the high school staff alone, or more than one to every seven pupils. All teachers were highly trained. Several had doctor's degrees. The tuition was $750.00 per child and yet this was not sufficient to pay the costs of education. Such schools as this have an important place in the educational scheme. They offer opporÃ‚Âtunity for experimentation with new ideas, methods and techniques which the average school cannot afford. However, the results of their experimentation must usually be considerably modified before they can be used in the average school. And to hold them as an ideal toward Page 10 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK which the average school should strive, instead of developing methods and techniques adapted to the needs of the average school with its usual reÃ‚Âsources, creates barriers to the development of an effective program. Small wealthy schools can only train a fraction of our secondary school population. In America, with our ideal of uniÃ‚Âversal secondary education which has reached far beyond the fondest hopes of any other nation, ancient or modern, the type of school I have just described is a false ideal. We can never exÃ‚Âpend the enormous sums that would be required to give every child such schooling. And if we could, it would require such a large proportion of the population to educate the remainder that the system would fall of its own weight. We must look elsewhere for the ideal school which will give our rural boys and girls the type of educaÃ‚Âtion they need and desire. The third way in which we cannot develop an adequate program in the small school is still closely akin to the first two. We can never deÃ‚Âvelop an adequate program by depending on consolidation alone. Recently I heard a wellÃ‚Âknown educator who should have understood rural schools say that if there was any way of imÃ‚Âproving the rural high school except by consolidaÃ‚Âtion, he did not know what it was. This has too often been our attitude as educators. We have felt that if we could only consolidate schools-in other words, make them larger-we would solve all our problems. That seems to be in the minds of the legislature in one south central state which has a bill before it setting two hundred and fifty p'Is as the minimum high school enrolment. If upi I this legislature would examine the last state reÃ‚Â port of the state superintendent of public instrucÃ‚Â tion, it would find that 89.6 per cent of the present high schools are smaller than this miniÃ‚Â mum in enrolment. It would also find that over 62 per cent have enrolment of fewer than one hundred pupils. When 54 per cent of the high schools of the United States, serving 15 per cent of the total enrolments, have fewer than one hundred pupils, and when 74 per cent have fewer than two hundred pupils, it will be long years before the small schools will all be eliminated by conÃ‚Â solidation. This does not mean that there will not b:. July, 1935 many consolidations. On the contrary, good roads and motor vehicles are rapidly widening the boundaries of our rural communities, and many schools will be consolidated to serve these newer and broader communities. Even after consolidation, however, schools are often still small. And then there are many schools in mountain valleys, separated by mountain ridges, which can never consolidate. Reorganization of schools and of educational administrative units is an important need in educational progress, but the curriculum of the small high school must reÃ‚Âmain narrow and meager if we depend on consoliÃ‚Âdation alone. A fourth way in which we cannot develop an adequate educational program is through depenÃ‚Âdence on the local district or community alone for financial support. One district may have great wealth and few children; another little wealth and many children. One district may have a railroad or power-line running through it and thus have thirty or even one hundred times as much assessed valuation per pupil to tax for school purposes as an adjoining district. Yet, why should the children in one district have much better schools than those of the other? This is a violation of one of the most sacred principles of our democracy, the equalization of educational opportunity. And besides, with the mobility of our American population, the children of the poor district with their meager training may quite possibly when they become adults move to the wealthier district to live and exercise their rights and influence as citizens. Many states are realizing the futility of attemptÃ‚Âing to finance their educational program through the local district alone. They are creating state funds from taxes levied on the wealth wherever it is, which are distributed to the schools accordÃ‚Âing to educational need in order to educate the children wherever they are. One of the chief criticisms of distributing funds to the local disÃ‚Âtricts has been that it destroys local control of the schools and centralizes too much authority in the state. Methods and techniques have now been developed which remove difficulty and permit state financing without state control. There are other weaknesses of the small school which have not been mentioned and there are July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 11 other pitfalls which must be avoided. But we have looked long enough at the negative side of the picture. We are now faced with two questions. How can these weaknesses be remedied? And how can these pitfalls be avoided? Or to state the probÃ‚Âlem positively, how can the small high school in the small rural community provide a broad rich educational program which will effectively meet the interests and needs of its boys and girls? Let us examine together some of the most promising solutions to the problem. Following are six proÃ‚Âposals: First, we must learn to think in terms of the functions or purposes of the school, rather than in terms of the means by which those purposes are accomplished. Much of our difficulty has arisen because we think of a school as a building, or classes, or subjects taught, or as a certain number of teachers, or a certain number of pupils, rather than what we want the school to accomÃ‚Âplish in the lives of boys and girls. These are only means by which the school operates. They arc not the ends for which the school exists. When we can make the functions of the school as real and tangible as equipment and buildings now are, schools will look very different than they do today. Briggs proposes the following Golden Rule of Education: "The first duty of the school is to teach pupils to do better the desirable things they are likely to do anyway." And "another duty of the school is to reveal higher activities and to make them both desired and to a maximum exÃ‚Âtent possible." We cannot teach pupils to do better the desirable things they are likely to do anyway by merely following a traditional acaÃ‚Âdemic curriculum. We must study each indiÃ‚Âvidual boy and girl to discover his interests, abiliÃ‚Âties, capacities and aspirations; then give him the training, whether it be college preparatory, or imÃ‚Âmediate preparation for life, which he needs. This will include a study of his environment and the kind of community, state and nation in which he will live. It will mean helping him to find the place in society where he can be of the greatest service. And it will mean preparing him to fill that place to the good of both himself and soÃ‚Âciety. As stated before, the school is responsible both for training youth who will become leaders in their own communities and youth who will find their place of greatest service elsewhere. Is this too much to expect of the small high school? I believe not. Not if it will follow the second proposal which I am about to make. Second, after formulating the purposes of the small school, we must use any methods and techÃ‚Âniques which will effectively accomplish these purposes. This is the key to the solution of the whole problem. After all, the fundamental purÃ‚Âposes of all schools, both large and small, are basically the same. It is the methods by which they are accomplished that differ. We must clearly formulate the aims of our school, then develop methods by which those aims may be accomplished in the life of each child, no matter how heterogeneous the group may be. If we are sure of our aims we will be willing to exÃ‚Âperiment with new methods of achieving them. It has been inability to see where we were going that has made us stick blindly to the same types of buildings and classes and teachers that large schools use. This scientific or experimental attitude with the school is in harmony with our educational philosophy, since we are now trying to arouse in boys and girls a curiosity, a questioning attiÃ‚Âtude, a desire to experiment, and test, and try out for oneself rather than accept blindly what one is told. Accepting this experimental attitude, what are some practical methods by which an adequate educational program can be provided? The reÃ‚Âmaining proposals will be devoted to a discussion of such methods. All of the following proposals cannot be immediately adopted by any one school, but every school represented in this audience should be able to adopt with profit at least one of the methods discussed. Third, the school must enrich its offering with the resources of the community and in turn conÃ‚Âtribute toward a fuller, richer community life. The small school has a very real advantage in the correlation of the curriculum with community life. The possibilities of curriculum enrichment through the use of community resources can best be illustrated by describing briefly the activities of three small rural high schools. At Ellerbe, North Carolina, the curriculum of the high school Page 12 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 193 S is developed in terms of community life. Activity is the key word. In many schools the activity is on the part of the teacher, trying to get the p'Is to take *li information cut and dried and upi I I I I handed to them. At Ellerbe the activity is on the part of the students. The student-activity of the school nursery for trees and shrubs exists because there is a need for it. The community, located on poor, sandy soil, has never been very prosperous. At the beÃ‚Âginning of the nursery work, the grounds of many of the homes were bare, having no trees or shrubs on them. The school grounds and church grounds of the community, likewise, had neve: had much planting. The student learned that school and environment has an important bearÃ‚Âing on one's life. They wanted more beautiful home, church, and school grounds. But how could they get the money to buy plants? They finally decided to try to grow the plants themÃ‚Âselves. How should they begin, and how could plants be grown? These and many other quesÃ‚Âtions came up which needed an answer. Here was an opportunity for cooperative planning and coÃ‚Âoperative effort. The work began in the spring of 1927 with p'Is bringing into the classroom armfuls of upi I 'I I shrubbery, from which hundreds of cuttings were made-abelia, euonymus, ligustrum amurense, spireas, deutzias, weigelias, willows, and a few other plants. These cuttings were set out in a slat house which the students made from scrap lumber. At the same time seed of Carolina cherry laurel, arborvitae, ligustrum japonicum, ligustrum lucidum, and nepalense were planted in well=prepared beds in the slat house. The followÃ‚Â ing spring hundreds of plants were rooted and ready to be moved to open ground. By fall, plants were available for ornamental purposes. At this point the need for a class in landscape gardening became evident and the classes in voÃ‚Âcational agriculture were given instruction in the proper arrangement of shrubbery, vines, tree;, walks, and drives, to get the best landscape effect. Then began the interesting work of improving the school grounds. The first big job was to fill up a ditch about three hundred feet long, ten feet wide, and five feet deep. Before attempting this task, it was necessary to make plans so that each individual taking part would know exactly what to do. The work was organized by diÃ‚Âviding the pupils into groups, each with a capÃ‚Âtain. Approximately one hundred boys worked on this job. Ten mules and several trucks were kept busy on the grading for an entire day. After the grading, a Bermuda grass lawn was planted by the pupils and layouts were made for walks, drives, and the shrubbery. Large, thrifty ,plants were set around each of the three build -,ings on the grounds. Thirteen hundred feet of hedge plants curved along the border of the cirÃ‚Âcular drive ways, and several shrubbery triangles were designed and planted. The tennis court on the grounds was landscaped with nearly one hundred plants. Two large brick columns were built at the entrance to the grounds and covered with ivy. Hundreds of oaks, willows, cedar, Carolina cherry laurels and other trees were planted by the pupils, on the school grounds. So great was the interest in improving the school grounds, that it was decided to broaden the work so as to take in the homes of the students of vocational agriculture and home economics. Six hundred plants from the nursery were given to members of these classes to decorate the ground of their homes. Over one hundred families have benefited. The nursery has been self-supporting. Hundreds of plants used on the grounds have cost the school nothing, and no money from school funds has ever been put into the project. The agriculÃ‚Âtural students who financed the enterprise have been reimbursed from the sale of plants. Besides this, they have been repaid a thousand times through knowing that they have served their school and their community well, and that theia work has had a good influence on the life of every student who has attended since the project of beautification began. Today even the smalles~ children love the plants and love to care for them. They have learned to realize that beautiful plants are living things, and have been placed there for their own enjoyment. Carmel, New York, is a rural village in Putnam County. Here the school began a guidance proÃ‚Âgram several years ago, with the help of comÃ‚Âmunity leaders. After careful consideration of the interests, abilities, and capacities of the pupils, at- July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 13 rangements were made to give them suitable voÃ‚Âcational experiences for which credit was given. There was no school shop, so the village blackÃ‚Âsmith guided the work of two boys interested in blacksmithing, for two hours a week. An eleventh grade boy worked in the general store to learn merchandising. Two girls studied nursing with the district nurse. A girl interested in teachÃ‚Âing, and with abilities in that direction, assisted the primary teacher. A girl interested in library work took charge of the school library under the direction of the English teacher. One boy interÃ‚Âested in farming worked for a nearby farm. These examples show the type of work done. Each pupil worked under the joint supervision of school and employer, and received high school credit for his work. At Lennox, South Dakota, most of the graduÃ‚Âates remain in the community to become farmers. The vocational agriculture classes spend much of their time on judging trips and visiting farms and homes. Their curriculum is built on the agriculÃ‚Âtural problems of the community. The class in American problems gives major importance to farm problems such as production, surplus, conÃ‚Âsumption, farm prices, mortgages, rural social conditions and national legislation. They made a careful study of the Agricultural Adjustment Act and its operation. They studied cooperative marketing and the problems of farm prices, taxÃ‚Âation, and land utilization. Lawyers, ministers, and business men in the community were asked in to discuss these problems in terms of their own work. In each of these three schools strong bonds beÃ‚Âtween school and community life were formed. The pupils learned much that they could never have obtained from books while seeing immeÃ‚Âdiately the application of what they did learn to real life. At the same time the life of the comÃ‚Âmunity itself was enriched by the activities of the school. Fourth the school building must be adapted to the purposes of the educational program. Why do school buildings so often look like factories? Perhaps it is because we with to train boys and girls for factory life. Why not build them like homes and give a homelike environment? Or build several buildings each suited to the particular grades it houses and have a community? It is interesting to speculate on the possibilities of such buildings. One small school has arranged its several buildings into a community to educate the pupils in a community life. Another in a region where the average house is built of logs, houses its home economics department in a log house on the school grounds. Here the girls do not discuss theory in an artificial situation. They study home making under the conditions of real life and attack the problems of making a log house the best possible type of a home. While many schools may not make such unÃ‚Âusual adaptations of their buildings as these, they can all work on the principle that a few large rooms where several activities are carried on are far superior to having the building cut up into small, cramped rooms. For example, the National Survey of Secondary Education found that when the library and study hall were in the same room the pupils used the library twice as much as when the library was in a separate room. The small high school of Benton Township in Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania, offers an exÃ‚Âcellent illustration of how an effective program in science and industrial arts can be housed in one room. Here, instead of imitating the science rooms of a larger school, the county superintendÃ‚Âent set up the functions which science and inÃ‚Âdustrial arts should perform in the lives of the boys and girls. He then set about planning a laboratory-shop room accordingly. He says: The chief purpose in the establishment of the laboratory-shop is to provide exploration of pupils' aptitudes, abilities and interests. In this workroom a pupil has an opportunity to find himself, to learn perhaps for the first time in his life that he has certain abilities and interests. With the help and guidance of a wise instructor he can begin to learn by doing. The material with which he works is real. His problems are actual problems. He begins to meet his immediate needs in working toward proÃ‚Âductive citizenship. The result is a large basement room twentyÃ‚Âeight by seventy feet. A glass partition twentyÃ‚Âeight feet from one end divides the room. The smaller division is equipped to handle small science classes. It contains a large sink with drain board, a combination physics and chemistry instructor's demonstration desk, a wall shelf twenty-three feet Page 14 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 long on which to work, eight two-student agriculÃ‚Âtural tables with chairs, bookcases, magazine racks and bulletin boards. The room is used not only for science but also as a conference room for boys working in the shop. The glass partition permits the instructor to supervise laboratory and shop groups together without the activities of either group disturbing the other. The larger division of the room houses the shop. About one-third of the floor in this spac;: is concrete. Here automobiles, trucks, and tracÃ‚Âtors are driven in to be studied and repaired, a forge and anvil are available for blacksmithing, and concrete work can be done. In the center of the room are woodworking benches and along the walls a lumber rack, varnish room, a booth for electrical wiring, and a power lathe make available a wide variety of experiences. To quote the county superintendent again: Thus the laboratory-shop offers to the rural pupil in this small high school the opportunity to work on the enterprises in which the whole comÃ‚Âmunity has an interest, and in working on these projects all are, of necessity, placed in thinking situations. There is opportunity for him here to reÃ‚Âceive an introduction to the work required on enterprises such as fencing, farm motors, power transmission, concrete, farm drawing, farm elecÃ‚Âtricity, farm plumbing, water supply, sewage disÃ‚Âposal, selection and repair of hard tools, soldering, rope work, harness work, blacksmithing, and the heating of farm homes. Fifth, teachers must be furnished adequate teaching materials with which to work. As alÃ‚Âready pointed out, teachers are often required to handle as many as five or six different subject each day. It is futile for a teacher to attempt mastery of such a wide variety of subjects, to say nothing of adjusting the work to individual pupil needs, or stimulating pupils to pursue their special interests. The number of subjects per teacher cannot be reduced by employing more teachers. There are already more teachers per pupil than in the large high school, with a resulting high per pupil cost. The number of subjects taught canÃ‚Ânot be reduced. The curriculum is already narÃ‚Ârow and meager compared with pupils' needs. How can a broader, richer curriculum be proÃ‚Âvided without increasing the load of already overÃ‚Âburdened teachers? Several ways present themÃ‚Âselves. One of the most common is the alternation of classes. All subjects do not have to be offered ,each year. Even in great universities subjects are alternated. Some of the most common alÃ‚Âternations are physics and chemistry, eleventh and .twelfth grade English, algebra III and advanced arithmetic. In some schools even algebra and plane geometry are alternated with excellent reÃ‚Âsults. Another way in which the curriculum can be economically enriched is through the employment of circuit and part-time teachers. Circuit teachÃ‚Âers who are employed by two or more schools have regular schedules by which they work in each school several times a week. An excellent music program has been developed through use of circuit teachers in Medina County, Ohio. There are two circuits, one of four schools, the other five. Each school regularly receiN Ã‚Â°s the services of a highly trained music teacher, and at a very economical cost. In Columbia County, Pennsylvania, two schools twenty-four miles apart employ the same vocational agriculture and home economics teachers.These two teachers spend the morning in one school and the afternoon in the other. In some counties one teacher of vocational agriculture handles as many as 170 boys in eight different schools. With proper individual instrucÃ‚Âtion materials this method could be developed much further. In fact it has been proposed that a county should organize its teaching staff with most of the faculty moving from one school to another on regular schedule. Another method for practical enrichment of the small secondary school curriculum, and probÃ‚Âably the most promising of all, is the use of supervised correspondence courses. The need for ,more effective teaching materials and the need for relieving the teaching staff have already been mentioned. More complete teaching materials which make it possible for each pupil to study the courses he wants and needs most, and to exÃ‚Âercise his own initiative, are needed. With our present knowledge of printing and presenting ideas, and with printed material so easily availÃ‚Âable, we should not continue to depend so much ion the local classroom teacher for the whole teaching process. Gates says that the classroom teacher spends a large percentage of her time on July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 15 work which could be given as well or better by the printed page. If a large part of the organizaÃ‚Âtion of subject matter, guidance of the teaching process, assignments, and correction of tests could he done elsewhere, the local teacher would be reÃ‚Âleased to give more time to individual pupils and the stimulation of creative work. Supervised correspondence courses make this possible. These courses are prepared and sent out by a university, private institution or state education department, and the lessons returned to the correspondence center for correction and suggestions. They have been used in Australia ,for over twenty years to provide educational opportunities for the rural boys and girls "out back" in the mountains and on the plains. In Australia, New Zealand, West Africa and Canada these courses have been successful, not only for enriching the curriculum of the school, but in providing courses for boys and girls who have no school. In 1923 the first correspondence courses used in an American high school were offered to boys in Benton Harbor, Michigan, who were dissatisfied with the regular high school curriculum and wanted something more practical. From these first correspondence courses in mechanical drafting this department of the school has grown until during the current semester over two hundred pupils are taking thirty different courses. These courses range from accounting, advertising, aviation, blue print reading, civil service, cartooning, dressmaking and design, mechanical drawing, practical electricity and phoÃ‚Âtography to trigonometry. Although the senior high school at Benton Harbor has seven hundred p'Is and a large staff, they do not feel that they upi are large enough to meet all the real needs of their boys and girls. They therefore set aside one large room for two periods each day where the pupils taking correspondence courses can all study toÃ‚Âgether at the same time. One of the most interesting developments in supervised correspondence study has been in the rural high schools of Nebraska. Five years ago the Extension Division of the State Universitv, in cooperation with several public school superÃ‚Âintendents, prepared correspondence courses for high school subjects in which the classes were small. This method of teaching has grown un- til now over 430 pupils in 123 rural high schools are enrolled for correspondence courses. These courses not only make it possible for pupils to study subjects when only one or two in the school need such a course, but are serving post-graduates who wish to take college courses and can not afford to attend college. For exÃ‚Âample, two years ago a high school graduate in Pennsylvania who had no money to attend college secured a job in a bank, took the freshman college work in engineering by correspondence, and the following year enter Pennsylvania State College as a sophomore. Supervised correspondence study makes possible, even in the smallest school, an enriched offering, a flexible program, a large variety of vocational, avocational and cultural subjects. It furnishes supplementary material for classroom work, and permits a pupil to take the courses which he wants and needs mast. At the same time it lightens the burden of the overworked teacher, not by lessening the number of subjects for which she is responsible, but by removing the necessity for her to be a specialist in each subject she handles, and by eliminating much of the routine and drudgery of teaching. Space does not permit a discussion of the ways in which supervised correspondence study can be used to best advantage to enrich the secondary curriculum, and how guidance in its use can be provided. This has been done, however, in the report of a conference held at Teachers College, Columbia University, last summer, some copies of which are yet available. Another method of taking education out to the schools has been developed in Iowa and used to some extent in Missouri, Nebraska, and Kansas. In Iowa the state department selects several outÃ‚Âstanding musical selections on phonograph records which the rural schools of the state purchase. The children then learn to sing while playing these phonograph records, even in schools where the teacher has no musical training. In the spring, county choruses are organized and the children come together for the first time when they make a public appearance. Then in the fall a state chorus sings at the state fair. These choruses have been very successful and the children have received valuable musical training which would Page I C MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 193 5 have been impossible had they waited until each school could employ a special teacher. This brings us to my sixth and last proposal. The educational administrative set-up must be reÃ‚Âorganized to develop and carry on more efficiently and economically an educational program adapted to modern needs. This means in some states the reorganization of the financial program which has already been discussed. In some states it means a reorganization of the administrative units by which professionally trained administraÃ‚Âtors and supervisors can serve a group of schools, perhaps on a county-wide basis. And in some cases it means the consolidation of the schools themselves when there are several rural schools in the same natural community. This reorganization cannot be done over night. It must be a gradual growth. It cannot be done by organizing all districts on exactly the same plan. Isolation, density of population, community reÃ‚Âsources, homogeneity of population, means of transportation and communication, and natural resources are all factors which make for individual differences in communities. And individual difÃ‚Âferences in communities must be taken into conÃ‚Âsideration in the organization of schools, just as individual differences of children must be conÃ‚Âsidered in the organization of the curriculum. Consolidation then must not be a fortuitous, opÃ‚Âportunistic procedure as it has so often been in the past. It must be the result of broad planning based on well-defined principles, and careful sur- veys which discover and present the social as well as the educational implications involved. In conclusion I wish to restate the six proposals I have made for the development of a broad, rich educational program for the small secondary school in rural mountain areas. First we must learn to think in terms of the functions or purposes of the school,, rather than in terms of the means by which those purposes are realized. Second, after formulating the purposes of the small school, we must use any methods and techÃ‚Âniques which will effectively accomplish these purposes. Third, the school must enrich its offering with the resources of the community and in turn conÃ‚Âtribute toward a fuller, richer community life. Fourth, the school building must be adapted to the needs of the educational program, rather than the educational program adapted to the building. Fifth, teachers must be furnished adequate teaching materials with which to work. Sixth, the educational administrative set-up must be reorganized more efficiently and ecoÃ‚Ânomically to develop and carry on an educational program adapted to modern needs. With these proposals in mind, it seems very e*dent that we must both take education to the vi small school and reorganize the school itself, if our mountain boys and girls are to be adeÃ‚Âquately served. July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 17 THE LARGER PARISH MALCOLM DANA The term "larger parish" seems to have capturÃ‚Âed the imagination and practice of an increasing number of ministers, churches, and areas. It is firmly lodged in the nomenclature of the most recent rural sociologies. Some people prefer anÃ‚Âother term, "community parish," which does suggest the basic ideas of larger parish procedures. The parish is to become co-extensive with the community, and the latter is to be the ultimate objective in serving. It might be well at the start, however, to hark back to beginnings, and to the probable first use of the name "larger parish." The probable originator of the term had a much larger conception of religious values than was the vogue in his day. Ten or fifteen years ago the Rev. Harlow S. Mills, of Benzonia, MichiÃ‚Âgan, wrote a fascinating little book entitled "The Making of a Country Parish." In it he used for perhaps the first time the words "larger parish." He certainly possessed larger ideas of what could constitute religious and church work than were generally held. He had rather extraordinary opinions as to how these should be valued. Mr. Mills was conservative, but possessed a spirit and consecration as broad as those of the Master whom he incarnated to a wonderful deÃ‚Âgree. Coming from a conservative, the followÃ‚Âing convictions, gleaned from his little book, from personal acquaintance and some corresponÃ‚Âdence with him, are rather startling. Mr. Mills found himself moved to a frank and fearless selfÃ‚Âexamination and the asking of some very BeachÃ‚Âing questions. One of them was, What, really, is the church? The answer was, The church is, after all, only one of many other community inÃ‚Âstitutions. A second question was this: Who in Benzonia village should feel the impact of this institution called the church-merely those who are members of the church, or who attend its services? The answer was, No. The impact of the church should be felt by every last man, woman and child in the community, whether they are in the church or out of it, whether thev are for it or against it, and irrespective of their kind and their position in the community. Nor was this all. Mr. Mills probed still deeper in his questioning to ask, By what measurements should the church demonstrate its right to exist and to ask support and following? The substance of answers made to that question was: The church has no right to ask any favors simply because it is conceded to be a holy institution, with a long line of sacred world history behind it. No, because of this it is all the more bound to return exact value for value. It must make just and commensurate returns for all of the time and effort spent in its behalf, returns which might even be reckoned in terms of dollars and cents. 1t is bound to do this in exactly the same measure that other institutions in the community are exÃ‚Âpected to justify the investments made in them; such institutions as the school, the library, the bank, or the store. The church has no right to exist if it does not give real value for value. The only favor that the minister can ask is the opÃ‚Âportunity actually to prove himself a first citizen of the town. And the only request the Benzonia church can legitimately make is for a like chance really to become the very best service institution in the community; the very last one any man, woman, or child would wish to see move out of the place. To quote his exact words, Mr. Mills affirmed that the church "must serve: it must serve all of the people, all of their interests, and all of the time." Verily, how many country churches can bide such tests as these? Mr. Mills also arrived at larger ideas than genÃ‚Âerally prevailed as to what should constitute the s--rving range of a church. Having formulated sound opinions as to what his little church should mean within the confines of the little village of Benzonia, situated in the midst of a wonderful farming country, he asked himself whether his church owed pastoral oversight and religious pI ilege merely to the villagers, or also to those r vi . living upon the land? At this point the real genius of his larger parish idea emerged. Mr. Mills was not blind to trends beginning to MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 be manifest in his day, of village, town, or city extending its influence out into farming areas and by its attractions destroying the integrity of the farm home, the unity of the community, and the effectiveness of open country churches. The Hoover Commission reports that the prosperous farmers are increasingly coming in to village churches for religious privileges, but that these same churches are not aware of the fact or of what it involves. Here is a situation that needs facing by the church today. If churches in the open country are put out of action or seriously weakened, what is going to happen to the farmÃ‚Âers who are unable or unwilling to come in to the village church, to the aged and shut-ins who are left behind, to the mothers of large families who cannot travel long distances to church, to those indifferent and hostile individuals who do not care whether there is a neighborhood church or not? This much is certain: If such trends are allowed to continue without any counter-planÃ‚Âning, America's broad areas are destined to beÃ‚Âcome dotted with country slums. Therefore village churches must, by means of an extension service, go out and serve all people living upon the land. They must minister to farm people where they live. Ideas and practice of such extension services to country people constitute a main element of larger parish procedure. It is recognized that "overlooking" of nearby country people is just as wicked and sinful as is "over-churching" in villages; and that the former nearly always acÃ‚Âcompanies the latter. Surveys made by the InÃ‚Âstitute of Social and Religious Research and by the Home Missions Council reveal this almost universal fact. Wherever churches at centers enÃ‚Âgage in religious competitions and sectarian rivalÃ‚Âries, there follows an absolute indifference to the religious welfare of the open country. Mr. Mills undoubtedly recalled instructions that Jesus gave to his own disciples to move out from Jerusalem, to witness and serve also in Judea, in Samaria, and to the uttermost parts. And h.: was concerned to do something for the nearby countryside. He was terribly in earnest to find out how far out should be the serving range of the minister and church of Benzonia village. Mills succeeded, perhaps too largely by means of his marvelous personality and too little by an accompanying method and organization, in getÃ‚Âting the people of a definite area of inhabited land to think, to work, and to worship together, for the individual and collective good of Benzonia, several other little villages, and their surroundÃ‚Âing countryside. Such plan and procedure were not only unique in their day, they anticipated modern theory and practice of a "town-country community." This involves a bit of interesting history, one which imposes serious responsibility upon rural religion and the country church of today. In ancient Saxon England, and even now or. the Continent, farmer and villager lived together in what has been termed "the ancient agricultural village." The farmer trekked out daily to cultiÃ‚Âvate his scattered strips of land. This type of community was partially reproduced in the New England "town"; but the latter was not suited to the settlement of successive and ever-advancing frontiers. Then our national government fosterÃ‚Âed a haphazard and unplanned settling of the West, which, together with its checkerboard system of marking out lands into sections, halfÃ‚Âsections, etc., resulted in the typically American farm, and an equally characteristic village. The former was situated in the open country, isolated and alone; and the latter, unlike the early English or present European village, became a center of business and of trade rather than agriculture. Loss of community was the severe price of pioneerÃ‚Âing; and the American farmer has always been termed "a man without a community." Modern sociologists, however, became interÃ‚Âested to discover if there might not be in rural America an "actual community," which was somewhat like that of early Saxon England. Careful study made by men of such eminence as Dr. C. J. Galpin seemed to show that there was such a community. The American village was found to depend upon an easily ascertainable area, or "town's land foundation"; while every farmstead had its own business center. Here, then, was a very definite area of inhabited land which included both farmer and villager, and one in which both were interested as in no other piece of land anywhere. Mutual prosperity deÃ‚Âmanded that each should recognize this fact, and July, 193 5 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 19 that both should be loyal to the welfare of this town-country, area, which Dr. Galpin termed the "rurban community." Mr. Mills' conception and practice of the larger parish apprehended these sociological premises, and were in logical sequence. For his aim and purpose was to bring about such practice of comÃ‚Âmunity living as would include both villager and nearby farmer. Still further, "parish" was to mean an area of land: it was to become coextensÃ‚Âive with the so-called "trade zone." The pastor of Benzonia's little church was once more ahead of his time. Such theory and work were never more needed than they are today. For the larger parish gives more promise than any other plan of curing three great weaknesses of Protestantism, which were cited by Hermann N. Morse some ten or fifteen years ago; weaknesses, alas, which persist very much the same even unto our own day. I can do no better than to quote. The Protestant Church has no theory of parish based upon a study of the area to which it ought to attempt to minister. Parish is seldom a geoÃ‚Âgraphical concept, but is the sum of the church's supporters or adherents. The average church serves its own people, and those who seek it. EvangelizaÃ‚Âtion of the countryside will never come until the church sees that its supreme function is to cultiÃ‚Âvate the entire area of inhabited land, until every household in the parish is made the responsibility of some church. The Protestant Church thinks in terms of conÃ‚Âstituencies rather than of populations. Churches are concerned with "birthright members." They are class churches which appeal to certain intelÃ‚Âlectual or emotional types. Very few are commuÃ‚Ânity churches in the sense of actually serving, or seeking to serve, all elements in the community, and all aspects of community life. A church is deemed "successful" which wins and holds enough people to support it "in the manner to which it has been accustomed." This holds true, although there are many more people in the community whose very name it does not know, and whose existence it has never attempted to discover. Of the four-fifths of rural people who are members of no church, a majority of them have never been actively sought or definitely cultivated. The most amazing thing about the country church is on how meager a program it can keep alive and satisfied. Thousands of churches exist on one preaching service a month, a makeshift Sunday school, and an annual revival. Such religion is cheap. That is, it costs very little, and it secures benefits for the community that are proportionate. In the average instance, even among churches, the program is formal, conventional, and stereotyped. It is no part of practice to ascertain by study what are the particular needs of its people to which it might minister. These words were to the point when they were first spoken. They are even more pertinent toÃ‚Âday. For there is no excuse for such conditions. The larger parish idea takes them seriously, and proposes to do something about it. In those very strictures, it beholds an outline for a muchÃ‚Âneeded religious program which will harmonize with a planned order certain to prevail in some measure throughout the future American countryÃ‚Âside. It proceeds on the modern fact-finding and survey method. For this reason, the larger parish cannot become standardized and everyÃ‚Âwhere the same. It discovers sound sociological boundaries of an inhabited area of land where the people should learn to live, work, think, act, and worship together, until religious cooperation shall become both natural and spontaneous. It is population-conscious; and is bent on discoverÃ‚Âing, knowing, and definitely cultivating every last man, woman, and child living within the larger parish area, and then making them the assigned responsibility of some one of the cooperating churches. It ascertains, by actual study, what arc the needs of the "village-town-community," so that its plan and program will never become a victim to the deadly stereotype. It is communÃ‚Âity-minded, because it proposes to serve every element in the community, and all aspects of community life. A seven-day-a-week program is to serve the whole man and the entire lifeÃ‚Âprocess, with an interest felt and shown toward people outside of the churches equal to its conÃ‚Âcern for those who are church members. Ours is a day of cooperation and cooperatives. The larger parish commends itself, because it aims to be above everything else a religious coÃ‚Âoperative of the first magnitude. Our program this evening asks this question: "Can a larger parish be planned and carried on interdenominaÃ‚Âtionally?" My answer is, Yes; for I know many places where just that is being done. And, to my mind, these are the most ideal larger parishes. They are not only needed: they are also in harmony with modern trends. Mr. Bizzell, in his Page 20 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK little book, "The Green Rising," pronounces the increase of farmer cooperatives the greatest miracle of the last decade. These organizations now number over twelve thousand, have a membership of two million, and do between two and three billion dollars worth of business annually. Should the farmer's church refuse to go about its Father's business in like mann.Ã‚Â°_r? In point of fact this method, embodied in the larger parish, must prevail and speedily. At one of the great annual denominational gatherings last summer, a seminar faced this question in all seriousness: Is Protestantism become too expensive for the American countryside? The general feelÃ‚Âing was that it is, because of the many expensive denominational overheads, and because of an inÃ‚Âexcusable multiplicity of country churches. These are "binding heavy burdens," instead of allowing religion to become a privilege and a joy. And there is a still more serious consideration. We adults must face it, who are conducting the country church enterprise today, but who will not do so tomorrow. What have we to say to a generally accepted dictum that "youth of today is increasingly interested in religion, but has less and less time for the church?" I am in favor of organic church union. But I have ceased talkÃ‚Âing about it. For the larger parish procedure, as an interdenominational religious cooperative, can be made an immediate practice of church union, taking us where we are, and conducting us to something better farther on. In conclusion, I doubt not that many in this audience would like to have an exact and authoritative definition of the larger parish. In my opinion, there is no such definition. A short time ago Mr. Brunner released a little research volume, which he entitled "The Larger ParishÃ‚ÂA Movement or an Enthusiasm." Unfortunate publicity resulted, at variance with the conÃ‚Âclusion, contained in the book, that "the larger parish is the only movement at present which has any sense of vitality and mission in solving the rural church problem." However, it is not z case of either-or, for the larger parish really is both a movement and an enthusiasm. More than that, it is a sound theory of religious work which can be adjusted to local needs and conditions everywhere. July, 1935 It should be said, however, that there are one or two things that the larger parish is not. It is not a glorified circuit of churches and preaching appointments, nor is it a yoked field, which generally amounts to a financial expedient for using (rather than serving) churches, to make up a living wage for some country minister. Both methods have their values and place. But they are not identical with the larger parish method. The latter seeks to weld a number of different churches and people, of the same or different deÃ‚Ânominations, into a unified and consciously acÃ‚Âcepted team-play: a team-play which will assure to each cooperating church and neighborhood an equal share of pastoral oversight and religious privilege. It is planned to reach and serve equally all people who live within a town and country parish. The larger parish is not an expedient for saving money. It is a method of raising and spending more money, but of doing this in wiser ways; and for the good of all people living upon a definite area of inhabited land. In closing, let me quote a rather ambitious but very inclusive statement of larger parish prinÃ‚Âciples. The items of plan, program, and proÃ‚Âcedure which appear here, amount to a rather good definition of the larger parish itself. Town and country realize their interdependence, and cooperate in securing for each other equal social, economic, and religious privileges. Communities, neighborhoods, and churches pool their resources so that together they can obtain a leadership, program, and equipment, which no one of them might get alone. People of different races, creeds and denominaÃ‚Âtions associate together to establish a religious felÃ‚Âlowship where churches agree to include all and exclude none, subordinating doctrinal and other tests to those of Christian discipleship. Ministers and people, acting together, formulate and administer plans and programs by means of a Larger Parish Council, composed of official deleÃ‚Âgates representing every cooperating neighborhood and church. A multiple ministry of trained specialists with departmental responsibilities seeks to discover, mobilize, train and use local leadership. Service is rendered over areas as well as churches; reaching out from centers with a maximum effort to minister to every person living in the open country. Selfish and sectarian interests are forgotten, and churches cooperate in really putting first the kingÃ‚Âdom of God and His righteousness, over an entire town countryside. July, 193 S MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 21 New Opportunities For .Mountain Communities B. L. HUMMEL I am glad of this chance to meet with you and discuss the special opportunities you have, because I have met with some of you before and in comÃ‚Âing to know more intimately the mountain situÃ‚Âation, I am convinced that mountain communities do have very special opportunities. Though the people are under-privileged from the standpoint of earning power and financial resources, they are tremendously privileged bcause of the type of the stock from which they come. As I began to look over the opportunities for the mountains, I was rather overwhelmed by the wealth of maÃ‚Âterial I found. If you have a special problem in the mountain areas, it may well be that fixity of ideas which seems to go along with the stolid character of the mountains. Someone has said that there is nothÃ‚Âing new under the sun; the best one can do is not to change one's thinking, but to rearrange one's prejudices. After one passes forty it is said that one has not an idea or a new thought. Is not that in large part the problem we are facing? If so, is not the present state of flux in which we are living an opportunity for at least a rearrangeÃ‚Âment of the many prejudices we have gathered around us and hug to us? At no time in recent history has there been such a shake-up of ideas, or such a desire to see things in new light. I hope that we as leaders of work in mountain areas can go at least as far as the rest are going in changing our ideas, in getting a new picture of what rural life in the mountain areas ought to be. When we begin to plan and to think seriously about conditions, not as they are, but as they may be, and when we can come nearer to gaining those things that we want, then we come face to face with rather serious questions. If we do pass through this period and look back ten or fifteen years from now, will it be only to see that opporÃ‚Âtunity has gone, and that thinking has become fixed again? When we think about improving life in rural mountain areas, what comes to our minds first? Do we realize the necessity of beginning with rural life where rural life is? Do we realize that in every nation progress begins in the local community? As some of us talked with George Russell the other day he told us of the humble beginnings of the Irish rural reformation, and we saw opening up before us the path we are going to have to follow. He told us of the first cooperative in Ireland: an old man with a lean-to built against a rocky cliff started a simple exchange, which grew into considerable proportions. Mr. Russell told us how the people developed their educaÃ‚Âtional and cultural activities, and how with the cooperative there grew up a new feeling of conÃ‚Âfidence, self-respect, and a new degree of selfÃ‚Âsufficiency. Someone has said that government is committed to the task of making life possible; it is up to us as individuals to combine our strength to make life worth while, taking advantÃ‚Âage of the things the government has to offer. The very poorest families we know have an opporÃ‚Âtunity of fixing up their humble homes, closing up the hole in the roof, or putting a partition in that one room-but they do not, because they do not see the chance. At one time the President of the University of Missouri came to observe the fine work being done at Tuskegee Institute. He appreciated its splendid program, but when he and Dr. Moton had finished the tour of the campus, and Dr. Moton asked if he had suggestions to offer, he said, "If I had these young people in my charge, the first thing I would teach them would be how to make a window." Dr. Moton replied, "But before we teach them how to make a window, we have to teach them to want a window." So it is with people through the mountain areas. The physical conditions under which our people are living are a reflection of the amount of idealism of a very practical and immediate sort which we have been able to establish-the ideal of what a clean house is, for example. Mr. Russell said, "We must organize rural people into communities, for without some kind of communal life men hold no more together than the drifting sands by the seashore." In rural Page 22 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 America, when we were comparatively indeÃ‚Âpendent, we drifted apart, and our communities seemed to disintegrate. This was not so true in mountain areas, because there was not the easy access to cities-another of your mountain adÃ‚Âvantages. You have a little more, in a way, to build on when we face the task of making a new community life. We must, however, build up in the minds of your people an appreciation for the necessity for team pull. In the older days Americans had the idea that everyone should be able to come and go as he pleased. This was a false interpretation of democracy, at least for rural areas, for we cannot escape the fact that it requires team pull and cooperation to bring about the best results there. Dr. Kenyon L. Butterfield has said that "the building of real local farm communities is perhaps the main task in erecting an adequate rural civilization. Here is the real goal of all rural effort, the moving slogan of the new campaign for rural progress that must be waged by the present generation." Your question is, "How are we to do this? We have the people but not the funds." Perhaps due to lack of funds people have become too discourÃ‚Âaged. In working with people anywhere, the first need is to begin with the people where they are, and lead them step by step to where they ought to be. This sounds simple, but it is someÃ‚Âthing we often fail to understand. Many proÃ‚Âgrams fail, not because they lack funds, but beÃ‚Âcause they are started a long way from the people. We have to gain their cooperation and interest, we have to smooth the way and make it easy, we have to help them to get results. This is hardly realized as a program in the beginning. There must be progressive growth. There is no magic process that makes out of a disorganized place an organÃ‚Âized place. We have to work slowly, making the early steps in community organization painless and easy, and developing cooperative spirit, not by something we say or have the people read, but as a result of everyone doing things effectively toÃ‚Âgether. They must come to realize that by workÃ‚Âing together they can accomplish something they cannot accomplish as well individually. It must be something they appreciate having done, someÃ‚Âthing they have been wanting to do for a long time, although they may not have realized it. There are different kinds of cooperation. Some people want to do the "co" and let you do the "operating." They join, but do not belong. Again, the hardest place in the world to get team work is among the leaders, for it is doubly hard to be a leader and a team member at the same time. If you can get all the different agencies to join in the formation of a cooperative program, you are alÃ‚Âmost a magician. I hope you may be champions of the people's rights, interested in improving rural life and mountain communities, not so tied to one organization or county that you will alÃ‚Âways ask first, "What will this do for my proÃ‚Âgram?" The only question should be, "How can I, working through and with my organization, cooperate with other agencies?" Leadership is looked at in two ways. Some people in Washington have felt that no decisions should be left to individual communities. That is one way. I hope you will feel differently and be generous enough to pass opportunities for deÃ‚Âcisions on to citizens of the communities with which you work. I hope you will realize that in the development of sound rural communities we can go no farther nor faster than we can bring the leaders of those communities and that the measure of your progress will be your ability to change the thinking, to broaden and clarify the vision of the leaders. Whenever we feel that we can do it more quickly, that local people are too slow, we are headed for disappointment. We must remember also that the man who is worthy of being a leader will never complain of the stupidity of his followers. True leaders are those who give great faith and enthusiasm to others, passing along certain bits of cheerfulness, optimism, hope and interest that were not there before. We hear often that "we must make the people feel that it is their own," but not until you can get local people themselves to make a proÃ‚Âject their own will you be successful. Perhaps the next essential for progress in deÃ‚Âveloping local communities is a broad vision. We are inclined to develop the attitude of the specialist, but we must recognize each organization and interest-church, school, and public healthÃ‚Âin its relationship to the others. Dean A. R. Man of Cornell once said, "Life is neither a series of compartments nor an arrangement of competitive interests; it is rather a simple harmony or oneness in which the parts are marvelously blended into July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 23 one symphonic whole." To develop a communÃ‚Âity program means to bring many varied phases into harmonious unity, and this will require the help of many different people. One of the greatest things we will get out of the community program is a recognition of the variety of human interests and needs, and the subordination of the economic and material to the social and human interests, for that is the sort of a simple and imÃ‚Âmediate program that is actually carried forward, subject from time to time to check-ups on the progress which is being made. A good place to begin the program is by imÃ‚Âproving the living standard. More income is needed, and there are two ways of obtaining it. One of these is, obviously, increasing earning power wherever possible; then, if the people can obtain in another way some of the things they pay cash for, income is also increased indirectly. Home life would naturally be improved as soon as people had a little more money and a little more material goods. I doubt, however, if a better home life is needed more urgently in the mountain areas than elsewhere. The situation is different in the mountains in some respects, but one rule will hold good, whether in the mounÃ‚Âtains or out of them: Do not try to lecture people on a high standard of home life, but talk to them in practical terms of everyday existence. Actual experiences in rural homes should be used as illustrations. A real concern about homes and home life should be aroused, and then met with simple, practical, and interesting suggestions as to just what can be done. In the educational program, the work which is being done with those who have just left school cannot receive too much stress. The first idea in adult education used to be to teach grown people to read and write, but we are now trying to give them much more than that. Emphasis on civic improvement, for example, is needed in mountain communities, where fences can be repaired and houses made clean. Along cultural and recreaÃ‚Âtional lines, the mountains are rich in handicrafts and folk lore, but improvement is needed in many instances in health and public welfare. FreÃ‚Âquently the relief load is not where the need is greatest, since many families are not on relief beÃ‚Âcause the roads are too poor for them to be reached, or because they do not live on roads at all. There is extreme need for a vitalized religÃ‚Âious life. Religion must become a way to live as well as something to believe in and talk about on Sundays. Among our new opportunities there is the possibility of national recognition of the necessity of a sound, permanent, satisfying rural life for our national well=being. Today, if we can make rural needs known, they will be met. The door is open and money is available, but rural people do not yet know what they want. The A.A.A. has helped some, and is opening the way for more efficient farming, but there are few requests so far from rural areas for public funds that are ailable for public improvement. The publi val I 1c improvement program is going to be changed, and I wonder if the mountain people have as yet any interest in that program or in the changes to come? The study to discover what ought to be done will continue until the first of November; suggestions should be made at once. Then there is the individual rehabilitation proÃ‚Âgram. A hundred and seventy-five thousand rural families have been re-established under this program. This is the greatest single financial aid that mountain workers need to be taking advantÃ‚Âage of. It is possible for farm families needing such assistance to get improvements, stock, feeds, fertilizers, repairs for house and fence. Why is it that so many of our families are going into the spring planting season without a chance in the world of becoming self-supporting even through the summer? There is also the rural community center proÃ‚Âgram. In this plan of rural community work centers the federal government is offering to lend money necessary to buy land, put up buildings, and buy equipment to enable people to make as many things as they have the materials for and are capable of constructing. If they have liveÃ‚Âstock, they can get material for tanning hides. There could be woodworking of every descripÃ‚Âtion, ~blacksmithing, canning, and the curing of meats. The only requirement for such loans is that the capital expenditure be sufficiently low that the sale of surpluses can eventually pay it back. The program of organized communities is beÃ‚Âing shifted at the present time, and programs that have been under various administrations will be Page 24 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK July, 1935 brought together. There are perhaps a hundred communities under construction throughout the United States. The rural housing program has not touched mountain areas very much. This may not be a loss, for it is entirely possible that rural comÃ‚Âmunity work centers offer a better solution to the need of housing improvement. Electrifica- ti ill undoubtedly also bring opportunities to ion wi I I mountain communities. Economic swings up and down penetrate into the hills perhaps later than they visit people of the plains and the lower strata. Be that as it may, many of the mountain people with whom you have to deal have by this time discovered that we are living in a society in which the consumer for some reason or other is failing to get access to the thing that he needs. They are 'by this time aware of the advancement of science, of invenÃ‚Âtions, and the mechanization of our vast industrial system which has made it possible for a comparÃ‚Âatively few people to produce everything that we need. By now they must be aware, too, that something is hindering the process, preventing production from yielding to them the things they want. We have come to an impasse, and it is to that problem consumers everywhere, in mountains or lowlands, must address themselves. As this predicament has developed, as comÃ‚Âmodities have piled up beyond the consuming power of the people, who still have not had access to them, the people in their distress have been prone to look out somewhere beyond themselves for help in solving their problems. For that reason we see the steady expansion of political relief, which has been brought to bear upon the scene. This has come about as a process of evolution. We cannot say that anyone is responsible for over-production on the part of industry; it has come about because of the failure of people to do something themselves to change the trend of The youth movement is something none of us can afford to overlook. The greatest loss of natural resources in America is not loss of water power, timber, and minerals, but loss of human resources. The greatest ungenerated power in mountain communities is the potential power we have in our own mountain people, and in this lies one of our greatest opportunities. The Consumers' Cooperative Movement: Its Meaning and Methods J. P. WARBASSE events. So we find them now turning and lookÃ‚Âing to outside forces to give them relief, expecting manna to fall from heaven (meaning Washington, the great source now of external benefits). We are beginning to ask ourselves, "How long can this continue? To what extent will people be willÃ‚Âing to sit quietly and invoke outside assistance? How far can the government go in relieving what seems to be a rather permanent state of unemployÃ‚Âment?" These are pressing questions. Now as social workers you are meeting this situÃ‚Âation as a social problem, and many of you who are fed and clothed are doing the thing that makes it easier for other people to be poorer. Does it not behove us to think in more radical and fundaÃ‚Âmental terms? Should we not think in terms beÃ‚Âginning with the beginning, refusing to comproÃ‚Âmise with the economic system which has resulted in the present impasse, ~ but using fundamental terms, and ask ourselves how we as intelligent people may organize so that we may have better access to the things we need that we may be released from the burdens of expense which bear down upon us? A hundred years ago people in industrial Great Britain were asking themselves these very quesÃ‚Âtions. Weavers of Rochdale said, "Our meager earnings do not go very far. We work hard, but we do not seem to get what we want. What preÃ‚Âvents this? Perhaps we are maintaining a number of servants we cannot afford to employ." When July, 1935 MOUNTAIN LIFE AND WORK Page 25 they looked about they discovered they were emÃ‚Âploying a multitude of servants-servants to bring things from the producer to the manufacÃ‚Âturer, from the manufacturer to the wholesaler, from the wholesaler to the retailer, and finally from the retailer to the door. Another condition that gave rise to their quesÃ‚Âtioning was that they found when they were able to increase their income, the cost of living rose proportionately. If they got better wages, the cost of rent went up. Even if they organized to get some control over their income, they had no control over their expenditures. They began to realize that it was not the money in the pay envelope that told the story, but what they could get for it in the way of food, clothing, and housÃ‚Âing. To be brief, they went into business to supply themselves, brushing aside the methods previously in use, and talking in simple terms as neighbors getting together to supply their needs. Out of that grew the Rochdale Society, organized in 1844, which made use of these three principles which have rendered consumers' cooperatives possible: (1) a cooperative organization should be composed of people who put something of their own into the pool to be administered jointly by all of them for the individual advantage of each member. In such an organization each person should have one vote, irrespective of the amount of investment, to insure democracy of control. (2) Invested capital should not receive the beneÃ‚Âfit of the proceeds, but invested capital should receive what were called the wages of capitalÃ‚Âthe minimum legal rate of interest. That meant that money could not be invested in a cooperative society for purposes of profit. (3) It was pro- vided that commodities should be supplied at the current retail marketing price. The difference between the cost and distributing price should be returned in proportion to their investment. Therefore profit was abolished, as the business was carried on for service. This sort of thing succeeded. It has extended beyond Great Britain, where it embraces nearly half the population, and it has grown until we now have the cooperative movement of the world, with cooperative societies in nearly every country performing every conceivable service that people need. I would lay down as a premise that we cannot name any useful service or any useful commodity which is not now supplied through cooperatively organized people. From commodities cooperative societies have gone to service, from food, clothing, etc., to banking, inÃ‚Âsurance, education, recreation, power, and transÃ‚Âportation. Even the administration of justice has been carried on by cooperatives. On the conÃ‚Âtinent in countries like Switzerland, Denmark, and Sweden, from one-half to two-thirds of the popuÃ‚Âlation are now members of cooperative societies. In Denmark three-fourths of the business is carried on by cooperative societies. In Sweden 40 per cent of internal business is carried on by them. From the simple beginning in Rochdale with some twenty-eight members in a society, the movement has expanded until we have the InterÃ‚Ânational Cooperative Alliance, which before the war had some twenty million members, 'but at present has about a hundred and twenty million. What effect does this sort of organization have, and how may we think of it in terms of mountain workers? It is my business to examine cooperative societies. I have visited twenty-three different countries to see these organizations in operation, and I have always noticed that in the first place people cannot get together and organize unless they have some common need. Can mountain people discover common needs? The next step is the realization that if a number of people could get together and pool their resources, they might supply what they need. Are the mountain people capable of that confidence in one another, that friendliness and fidelity to one another or to an institution, which would enable them to unite their resources and supply some common need? Let us ask the question, for example, in terms of health service, which is greatly needed in the mountains. At present the mountain farmer is not able to get access to the best medical service, but he can unite with his neighbors and supply a high type of medical service. Is he capable of that? Can he answer the challenge as it was answered by poor farmers of Oklahoma? Cotton farmers there, who have been frightfully poor during the last five years, organized themselves into a cooperative society and built a hospital. All through the depression they have had access to good medical service by uniting with their neighÃ‚Âbors and putting their meager resources together.