read their essays, and find a deal of imperfect fruit in the way of
solecisms and misspelled words, I feel inclined to discredit my skill
in organizing the activities in this human orchard.

I think my trouble is (and it is trouble), that I proceed upon the
agreeable assumption that my pupils can "catch" English as they do
the measles if only they are exposed to it. So I expose them to the
objective complement and the compellative, and then stand aghast at
their behavior when they make all the mistakes that can possibly be
made in using a given number of words. I have occasion to wonder
whether I juggle these big words merely because I happen to see them
in a book, or whether I am trying to be impressive. I recall how
often I have felt a thrill of pride as I have ladled out deliberative
subjunctives, ethical datives, and hysteron proteron to my
(supposedly) admiring Latin pupils. If I were a soldier I should
want to wear one of those enormous three-story military hats to
render me tall and impressive. I have no desire to see a drum-major
minus his plumage. The disillusionment would probably be depressing.
Liking to wear my shako, I must continue to talk of objective
complements instead of using simple English.

I had watched men make a hundred barrels, but when I tried my skill I
didn't produce much of a barrel. Then I knew making barrels is not
violently infectious. But I suspect that it is quite the same as
English in this respect. My behavior in that cooper-shop, for a
time, was quite destructive of materials, until I had acquired skill
by much practice.

If I could only organize the activities in my English class so that
they would function in such behavior as Lincoln's "Letter to Mrs.