wine. Into the midst of commotion and confusion it quietly moves, saying,
"Peace, be still!" and there is quiet and repose. Like the sun-crowned
summit of the mountain, it stands erect and sublime nor heeds the cloudy
tumult at its feet. In the school, the teacher who exemplifies and
typifies this quality of serenity is never less than dignified but,
withal, is never either cold or rigid. Children nestle about her in their
affections and expand in her presence as flowers open in the sunshine. She
cannot be a martinet nor, in her presence, can the children become
sycophants. Her very presence generates an atmosphere that is conducive to
healthy growth. There is that impelling force about her that draws people
to her as iron filings are drawn to the magnet. Her smile stills the
tumult of youthful exuberance and when the children look at her they gain
a comprehensive definition of a lady. Her poise steadies the children in
all the ramifications of their work, her complete mastery of herself wins
their admiration, and her complete mastery of the situation wins their
respect. They become inoculated with her spirit and make daily advances
toward the goal of serenity. Knowledge is her meat and drink and, through
the subtle alchemy of sublimation, her knowledge issues forth into wisdom.
She does not pose, for her simplicity and sincerity have no need of
artificial garnishings. Her outward mien is but the expression of her
spiritual power, and when we contemplate her we know of a truth that
education is a spiritual process.

To the teacher without serenity, the days abound in troubles. She is
nervous, peevish, querulous, and irritable, and her pupils become equally
so. She thinks of them as incorrigibles and tells them so. To her they
seem bad and she tells them so. Her animadversions reflect upon their
parents and their home life as well as themselves and she takes unction to
herself by reason of her strictures. Her spiritual ballast is unequal to
the sail she carries and her craft in consequence careens and every day