CHAPTER XIII THE PURPOSE OF THE MOONLIGHT SCHOOLS

In all the decades prior to the one ushered in by 1910, there was not a state, county, city or school district which had as its purpose the absolute removal of illiteracy. When the startling announcement was made by the census-takers at the beginning of the new decade that five and a half million men and women in the Nation had confessed that they could not read or write, there was nowhere an expression of shame or pity or even of surprise. It was accepted as a thing inevitable--the waste product of an inefficient school system. Even the press, usually alert and looking for unusual conditions to exploit, found nothing worth featuring in these tragic figures.

There was a vagueness and confusion in the public mind as to the term illiteracy and what constituted it, where the boundary line between literacy and illiteracy was fixed. Not one person out of ten in the United States could define illiteracy. Few had thought of it at all or had taken occasion to familiarize themselves with the term. It was such an unfamiliar one that the first Illiteracy Commission had to impress itself, to explain itself--its very name, repeatedly. Forestry commissions and fish and game commissions were familiar enough but one which had as its purpose to redeem men and women from illiteracy was a foreign and unintelligible thing. The public, in general, knew little of the baneful effects of illiteracy on the individual or the community. Searching the files of educational reports we find no addresses on this subject, and on the shelves of the public libraries there was nothing to be found save a few statistical reports in scientific journals. The man who made his mark aroused no more concern than the one who wrote his signature. Nowhere in all history is there a record of more general apathy having settled down on a crying need or a worthy cause.

The example of a few states leading out in the early part of the decade in a crusade against illiteracy without federal oversight or aid, without funds from the state and with but little public sentiment aroused, and the readiness with which state after state recognized the need, sought the remedy and fell into line, is one of the most hopeful chapters in educational history.

The moonlight school has as its avowed purpose the removal of illiteracy. It has its secondary aims and its indirect results, but until illiteracy is banished it must remain devoted to the one idea of redeeming illiterates--of freeing them from their bondage.

This purpose was being fulfilled when the first three illiterates in Rowan County learned to read and write and when the first district banished illiteracy and it is being fulfilled today wherever, through its influence and example, adult illiterates are being emancipated. When the first three illiterates learned to read and write, the representatives of those three classes--the illiterate mother, the man in his prime and the youth with all of life opening out before him--it was an evidence that all illiterates of normal mentality could be redeemed. The first few who learned served to show the possibility, the practicability and the ease with which knowledge could be imparted to all the rest.

To con over the fascinating figures of illiterates redeemed in the various counties of some states in their initial campaigns is an inspiring thing, and is an earnest of what a few more years of effort with more means, trained leaders and better methods will bring about. Leslie County, Kentucky, in its initial campaign in 1915, taught 600 to read and write; Tattnall County, Georgia, emancipated 600 in a campaign of two years. Santa Fé County, New Mexico, taught 1,549, the majority of them being illiterates. All three were pioneering. What more hopeful record of educational progress can one contemplate than is to be found in the report of the Georgia Illiteracy Commission, prepared by its Secretary, State Superintendent M. L. Brittain, a few months after the illiteracy campaign began in that state.

Number of illiterates taught to read and write:

Tellfair County, 500; Washington County, 555; Fulton County, 632; Muscogee County, 638; Bibb County, 665.

One turns to the record in Kentucky to the reports of county school superintendents, and these are some of the figures that give assurance that the moonlight school is fulfilling its purpose.

Number taught to read and write during a period of four years prior to 1920:

Bath County, 750; Clay County, 900; Bell County, 1,000; Magoffin County, 1,400; Floyd County, 1,600.

How much more fruitful could one expect any campaign to be than that which was started to teach the illiterates of North Carolina in 1914, and shortly afterward reported 10,000 taught to read and write? The purpose of the moonlight schools was fulfilled in this 10,000 redeemed from illiteracy, in the 17,892 taught in Georgia’s opening campaign, in the 25,000 that Alabama taught in a few years’ time and in the thousands emancipated by other states. In all these the moonlight school was achieving its purpose and pointing the way to the ultimate goal--the elimination of illiteracy from the Nation.

Not in all the states have the schools for illiterates borne the name of moonlight schools. Some after successfully launching the movement under this name adopted names suited to their peculiar conditions, such as the “The Lay-By Schools” of South Carolina, “The Adult Schools” of Alabama, “The Community Schools” of North Carolina and the “Schools for Grown-ups” of Georgia. In some of the states the plan and purpose were adopted but not the name. Eventually when these schools are firmly wedded to the public-school system they may all take the prosaic name of evening schools, just as the “Old Field Schools of the South” and other pioneers of the day school system became known as the public or common schools.

In their first wave of enthusiasm, some of the states set a high goal. No less than six of them had as their aim to wipe out illiteracy by 1920. This would have been easily possible with some had funds been promptly provided and the co-operation of the whole people given in fullest measure. As it was, it was possible to set many illiterates free and to place before the people the ideal of removing illiteracy from a definite place within a given time. A worthy goal is a great inspiration, and none who strove to wipe illiteracy out of a definite section by 1920 will give up in despair because they arrived only half or one-third of the way. “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp,” says Browning. “Or what’s a Heaven for?” Those who realized even a portion of their aim now see how humane, patriotic and practical it is to redeem the adult illiterates and will simply set their mark ahead and “run their race with patience,” expecting to make the finish before the next decade. North Dakota, which has but a few thousands to redeem, has well set the year 1924 as the time when it will be clear of illiteracy, while Pennsylvania, with tremendous numbers, wisely gives herself ten years to finish the task.

Victor Hugo says, “There is something that is mightier than armies, and that is an idea whose time has come.” The moonlight school in 1911 advanced the idea that illiteracy could be wiped out of a given locality within a given time. It is an idea that has taken such firm hold on the public mind that nothing less than the emancipation of every illiterate will satisfy the public conscience. The removal of illiteracy is now the fixed purpose of the Nation.

The National Educational Association, the greatest influence in educational affairs of the United States, has accepted the idea and has made the removal of illiteracy the first provision in its educational program for America. This association now has its illiteracy commission, the National Council of Education, the General Federation of Women’s Clubs and other great national organizations have their illiteracy committees, appointed for one purpose--to wipe illiteracy out of the Nation. Many of the Governors have urged in their messages to the Legislature or in their inaugural addresses that the state will undertake to immediately redeem all of its illiterates. In the presidential campaign of 1920 the eradication of illiteracy was a reform written into the platform of one of the two major parties and urged by the candidates of both parties as one of the tasks to which the Nation must apply itself.

The idea of eradicating illiteracy has taken firm hold of the Nation’s leaders. Congressman Horace M. Towner, of Iowa, in making the report of the Committee on Education to the National House of Representatives, said of the first county that had attacked illiteracy: “This experiment conclusively shows that it is possible to bring help to illiterate men and women even under the most adverse circumstances. It demonstrates the fact that under proper leadership and under proper direction adult illiteracy is easily and quickly wiped out.”

Champ Clark and Ollie James, both former Kentucky school teachers, had the spirit of comradeship with the moonlight school teachers and found many ways of aiding and encouraging them in their gallant fight on illiteracy, while William Jennings Bryan crowned the teachers with these words spoken in an address at Raleigh, North Carolina: “If there are any who have ever realized these words of the Master, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive,’ it must be the teachers of the moonlight schools.” President Wilson stopped his work one busy day to write and commend a Kentucky moonlight school teacher who had won a Congressman’s prize for teaching the best moonlight school in his Congressional district. This letter, accompanied by the President’s picture, was a commendation of all moonlight school teachers and the idea for which they stood just as President Lincoln’s letter to Mrs. Bixby was a letter glorifying all mothers who had given sons in the Civil War.

All of the agitation against adult illiteracy, in which the moonlight school has been the pioneer and dramatic factor, has made illiteracy appear as a disgraceful and unpopular thing. There is an odium attached to it to-day that was lacking in the years gone by. Illiteracy has been stigmatized where the crusade against it has been waged and made to seem a thing to flee from as from leprosy. One who makes his mark is not now ignored or overlooked, but in many communities and in most of the states he is a subject of deep concern. His act will scarcely be passed by without discussion. Those who observe him in this act will relate his story with all its pathos and the disgrace connected with it and will not fail to apply the moral. The result is usually the supplying of the unfortunate with books and teaching him to read and write.

There are communities to-day that feel a sense of responsibility for teaching every illiterate, and for doing it within a brief and definite time. There are some districts that feel illiteracy to be a reproach under which they cannot rest. Governor Henry J. Allen, of Kansas, who made an investigation of the moonlight schools, wrote in a magazine article as follows:

Two men met on a mountain pathway, and began to talk about how soon their county would be “Cleared up.” They were not referring to weeds or underbrush or timber, to insects, reptiles or malarial fever. They were referring to the elimination of illiteracy. Nothing just like it has found expression in any educational system, in any age; the sureness of faith of those who teach, the simplicity of their efforts, the general response. I have seen three generations studying the same books in one moonlight school. “There are 2,442 illiterates in the county,” said a man to me in one of the counties in the Cumberland Mountains. “It will take two years to wipe out illiteracy.” Think of the calm faith of it! I believe that the story of the moonlight schools is the most exalted and sacrificial that has been told in the educational effort of America.

The newspapers now find a fertile field in illiteracy statistics and have come to devote space and headlines to them, giving them ranking interest with the most vital things of the day. The purpose of the moonlight school is so outstanding that it has captured the pens of cartoonists. These have vividly pictured illiteracy in all its evil, its weakness and its disgrace. It is only a matter of time until poets, sculptors and artists will here find a theme for their art.

The change of attitude toward adult illiteracy has not come about without some resistance, some opposition, of course. Where such indifference and such ignorance prevailed in regard to a subject it could hardly be expected that reform could move forward without some interference and obstacles. Some educated people had no more intelligent idea, at the outset, about removing illiteracy, than had a certain old colored professor in Mississippi when the crusade was started in that state. The teachers in their examinations were asked the question, “How rid the state of adult illiteracy?” and the professor wrote this answer: “The only way to rid the state of adult illiteracy is to get rid of the adults. You should not have adults around your place or anywhere. As long as you have adults around, you’ll always have illiteracy.”

The education of the educated to the problem of illiteracy has been no small part of the crusade. The pioneers had to educate themselves as to the nature and scope of the problem and the plan of attack, to educate the public to co-operate--some to contribute funds, a larger group to give service, and the whole public to give their moral support. The public had to be brought under indictment for the illiteracy statistics, which, viewed in bulk for state and Nation, had seemed too stupendous to arouse a feeling of responsibility in community or individual, but when analyzed and presented for counties and local communities produced an entirely different effect. The right of adult illiterates to learn had been challenged, their ability to do so had been questioned, the advisability of having teachers assume the extra duty of teaching them had been doubted, the statistics, when analyzed and brought close to home had been disputed and resented; demagogues had assumed that any reference to the illiteracy of the state or community meant to traduce it, professional politicians had gloried in holding the purse-strings of the public treasury as tight as possible against any invasion for such a cause, and a few educators so violently opposed illiterates being taught to read and write that it brought forth from a layman the caustic comment, “The greatest trouble with some educators is that they are so opposed to education.”

The illiterates themselves had to be educated to an understanding of their opportunity. Not everyone came rushing out to school in every district when the schools first opened. An institution so new as a school where illiterate adults could learn to read and write may easily be misunderstood, criticized and even resented by those who need it most. Considering the mistaken attitude of the educated for generations past on the question of teaching them, it is not at all strange that some of the illiterates, themselves, with minds so befogged and darkened, should have had doubts and misconceptions of the school and what it would do for them. My father, himself a former school teacher, but later a physician, greeted me once in the early days of the movement with the remark, “What fool thing is this you are doing? I hear that you have old Jimmie Thomas and old Dicie Carter going to school.”

His was the viewpoint, at the time, of the average educated man. That illiterates could overcome their fears and their pride with such sentiments being expressed around them is a credit both to them and to the teachers who persuaded them that it was within their power to learn to read and write.

The change in the public attitude toward illiteracy in the states that have had campaigns has been eminently worth while. Alabama realized this when her progressive program of school legislation passed so readily due to the awakened public sentiment brought about by her crusade; Kentucky was in no mood to provide special officers to enforce her lax and inadequate compulsory attendance laws until the illiteracy campaign had swept over the state and shown her how foul and frightful a thing was illiteracy in either child or adult. Arkansas and other states that wage war on illiteracy talk of it “awakening an educational conscience.” This is one of the purposes of the moonlight school--to awaken the educated to their responsibility, to create in them a desire to redeem the illiterates, as well as to arouse the illiterates to seek their freedom. All of this means more than freeing a state from illiteracy. It means a new appreciation of education, a devotion to it which will not cease with the illiteracy crusade, but will affect the public school system from the elementary school to the university. You cannot teach the illiterates of the district to read and write without increasing the educational spirit of the community and improving the school advantages of the children. You cannot start the educated out on a crusade to redeem their illiterate neighbors without arousing in them a sentiment for better education for their own and their neighbors’ children and for better educational conditions throughout the system for future generations.

The moonlight school movement does not assume to be an educational regeneration. It assumes but one duty and that is to redeem the illiterates. Its by-products, however, are increased attendance in the day schools, increased interest in school improvement, intelligent support of progressive legislation and other things that vitalize and help the schools. Some who have no vision of a community redeemed from illiteracy and no sympathy with the illiterates are often heard to remark, “The best result of the moonlight school is its effect on day-school attendance.” A thing must first have a good direct effect before it can produce a good indirect one. Teachers declare that the moonlight schools increase day-school attendance all the way from ten to thirty per cent, but the moonlight schools could not accomplish this did they not achieve their primary purpose, that of teaching the illiterates to read and write.

In 1910 there was not a law on the statute books of any of the states referring to adult illiteracy. In 1920 there were laws providing for the teaching of adult illiterates; laws providing salaries for teachers to teach them; laws providing for training of teachers of adult illiterates; laws compelling illiterates of certain ages to learn, and laws providing for their instruction at home or in factory, mill or mine.

The spirit behind these laws could not and never will be fully translated into legislative acts. The determination of the illiteracy crusaders in the different states is like that of the colonists in the American Revolution. When the English Secretary urged an increase of troops in Boston until their guns outnumbered the Americans, Pitt declared, “We must reckon not so much with their guns as with their sentiments of liberty.” The emancipation of all the illiterates in the United States is not a dream of the far future. The challenge to liberate them has been answered by leaders all over the nation with the slogan, “No illiteracy in the United States in 1930.”

The secondary purpose of the moonlight school--to afford an opportunity to the near-illiterate and the half-uneducated--may, when illiteracy is vanquished, become its primary and most practical one. All over the land there are many who dream of completing their education some time, and even the well-educated will not scorn the opportunity to improve. A Kentucky woman of forty who was a graduate of a well-known college, was asked this question, “If you had your choice of all the good things of life, what would it be?” “I’d rather go to school,” she said. She lived in one of the most cultured communities, but she expressed the wish for a moonlight school to be established, saying, “I’d like to review my American history and if nobody will teach the class I’ll teach it myself for the sake of the review.” There are many like this woman who would choose a term in school to every other blessing. While they have paid school taxes and hungered for educational opportunities, the school plant has remained closed for all but six hours of the day during a brief school term in many communities. There are 8,760 hours in a year and the school plant is open only 960 of these hours in some districts, where only six-months schools are conducted, a tremendous waste in the school plant, but a greater one in human intellect and aspirations.

A day school in every community! Once it was a doubtful experiment, but now it is an established institution and forever so. It has come up through trials, tribulations and struggles innumerable. A night school in every community! If it is an educated community, a night school for more education, for culture and specialization; if an illiterate community, for the emancipation of the illiterates and their new birth into the realms of knowledge and power!

The public school should be as liberal in its policy as is in the church. It has no right to say to men and women, “If you embrace me not before a certain age or before a certain hour in the day I will close my doors to you forever.” The hour of a man’s opportunity should be any hour in which he awakens to his need whether it be at the age of six or a hundred and six.