THE INFLUENCE OF INSTRUCTORS ON STUDENTS AT HARVARD.

NO doubt many of those who have not been to college suppose that there is an influence exerted by the professors at Harvard, aside from recitations, in a social way. We read in Grecian history of the intimacy between Socrates or Aristotle and their disciples. They lived together, and the young men drank in from this friendship, not only the technical teaching of their masters, but they also saw their precepts put in practice. A man was known by the school that he had attended, and carried the example of that school into his actions in after life. The same is true of the universities that sprang up at the end of the Middle Ages, and of the various schools of art all over the continent of Europe. The reputation of one great teacher was sufficient to draw to Bologna or Padua students from the semi-barbarous Poland or the far-distant England. The genius of Titian made Venice the resort of his many admirers and pupils, in the same way that Michelangelo was the centre of art in Florence and Rome.

But at our modern Harvard the case is far different. Although in the catalogue of our instructors may be found the names of many men whose reputation has passed beyond the boundaries of Cambridge, and whose acquaintance in a social way might be of great benefit to students, the number of those who show any tendency to know more of their pupils than can be learnt in two or three hours a week is limited to four or five. The barrier between these two great classes is one of no imaginary kind; it is rigid, and almost impassable.

What is the reason of this seeming indifference ? Is it because classes are now so large that a professor sees it would be impossible to know even a majority of the students, and so prefers to know none at all ? Is it because there is no Socrates amongst us? Or because the professors, especially the younger ones, think it below their dignity to become familiar with their pupils? Or, finally, because even with professors, in this money-seeking age, there is a tendency to impart no more of their knowledge than is precisely stipulated in the terms of their engagement?

I think that all of these causes may have some share in determining the present state of things; but it seems to me that much mutual good might be accomplished if there were a change in this matter. A student who sees that a professor takes no interest in him naturally comes to regard the professor as an evil that must be endured at recitations, and may then be shunned. It is not for him to take the initiative, and he makes no advances.

The first element of a good teacher should be - after his competency to teach - that he takes a vivid interest in those he is to instruct. He should attempt to know them more than superficially, and to understand their peculiarities and ability, in order to make his instruction as beneficial as possible to each individual. For students cannot all be run through the same mould, like bullets, but allowance must be made for individual taste and proficiency.

Those few professors who have been alluded to above as an exception to the general rule are deservedly the most popular with the students. This proves that if more of this social intercourse were to be had, more good might be done, and that the chances of success warrant a fair trial. It proves, too, that students appreciate the hospitality that is offered them, and oftentimes gain more by seeing the professor at his fireside than on his raised platform in the recitation-room.