Happy is the child whose teacher possesses imagination; who can touch the
common things of life with the magic wand of her fancy and invest them
with supreme charm; who can peer into the future with her pupils and help
them translate the bright dreams of today into triumphs in the realms of
art, music, science, philosophy, language, and philanthropy; and who
builds air-castles of her own and thus has the skill to help the children
build theirs. It is not easy, if, indeed, it is possible, for the teacher
to quicken imagination in her pupils unless she herself is endowed with
this animating quality. Dr. Henry van Dyke puts the case thus: "I care not
whether a man is called a tutor, an instructor, or a full professor; nor
whether any academic degrees adorn his name; nor how many facts or symbols
of facts he has stored away in his brain. If he has these four
powers--clear sight, quick imagination, sound reason, strong will--I call
him an educated man and fit to be a teacher." And, of a surety,
imagination is not the least of these.

To this end every teacher should use every means possible to keep her
imagination alive and luxuriant, and never, on any account, permit the
exigencies of her task to repress it. The success of her pupils depends
upon her, and she should strive against stagnation as she would against
death. The passing out, the evaporation of imagination is an insidious
process, and when it is gone she is but a barren fig-tree. If her
imagination is strong and healthy she cannot have a poor school and her
pupils will bless her memory throughout the years. As applying to every
grade of school we may well note the words of Van Dyke: "Every true
university should make room in its scheme for life out-of-doors. There is
much to be said for John Milton's plan of a school whose pupils should go
together each year on long horseback journeys and sailing cruises to see
the world. Walter Bagehot said of Shakespeare that he could not walk down
a street without knowing what was in it. John Burroughs has a college on a