COURTESY

Step into any lecture room toward the close of an hour and observe an occurrence which is not uncommon, but which is quite characteristic of the American student. The professor is completing his lecture. Immediately there arises a noise of shuffling feet, of closing note-books, and of clattering tablets as each student prepares to leave the hall. The closing words are a meaningless jumble lost in the general disorder. The students rush out; the professor resignedly gathers up his notes and joins the crowded mass at the door.

Such an occurrence is only one of the many unfortunate habits which are to be seen at Harvard every day. The American spirit of bustle has come to permeate the class room.

The object of this is not a saving of time. The action can only be taken as an expression of relief at the end of a trying hour. Students forget that the effectiveness of speech requires a complete silence. They ignore the fact that others may care to hear what is said, that the professor is both embarrassed and outraged by their conduct. It is an unhealthy sign in the development of the cultured man. If it be thoughtlessness, let men come to think; if it be ignorance, it is time that they come to know.