How, then, was the journalist's method to be introduced in a college? At Harvard, you have introduced it, though to a very limited extent, by establishing the Reading Period. At Rollins we have made it the one and only method by establishing what we call the two-hours conference system. A group of students work together for two hours at a stretch. The material is at hand. They dig into it on their own. Nobody can avoid digging in as he would avoid preparing for a recitation. There is nothing else to do. Then, when the study portion of the period is over, the students discuss what they have managed to find out. All through the two hours, a professor sits by. Not to see that the students work (there is no need of that) and not to meddle with them while they work. He is there merely to help out anybody who gets stuck, and, during the discussion that follows study, serve as a kind of moderator. When occasion arises, students consult his opinion. Even then, he talks with, instead of at, the students.

Plan is Succeeding

The Rollins Plan appears to be succeeding. Says a Rollins undergraduate: "It has taught me to think." Says another: "How fine to work for one's friend--not one's boss!" Says a third: "We feel here that the college really wants to put itself at the disposal of the student rather than merely to subject him to a course of sprouts." Says a Rollins professor: "Instead of being on the defensive and trying to escape work, most of my students are anxious for it. The initiative is with them, now, and they take it. Instead of prodding them, all I need do is to help."

Rex Beach, president of our Alumni Association, sees in the two-hour conference system a harking back to good old Twelfth Century practice. The more I consider the Twelfth Century and the origin of universities during that century, the more I am inclined to agree with Rex Beach. At the original universities there were no recitations. There were no lectures. Naturally, for there were no professors. But when professors began to evolve, it was not as conductors of recitations or as lecturers, it was as friends and helpers of the students.

Foundation of Universities

A university got its start in this way: first there was a row of books, usually belonging to a nobleman or rich merchant: next, there was a clique of young men who had obtained his permission to walk in and read the books and also his permission to copy them: then, as the news spread, scores, hundreds and even thousands of young men came pouring in from other cities, all ambitious after learning: by that time, the early comers had got well on in their study of the books and could help out beginners. Later on, helping out beginners became a recognized trade, and the world witnessed the emergence of the first professors.

At Paris, the professors organized, and virtually owned the students. At Bologna, however, the students organized, and virtually owned the professors. Each new professor was forced to put up a bond--in cash--when appointed, and he was appointed by the students' chief official, himself a student. At the end of the year the professor received his money back, with deductions for bad behavior--such, for instance, as coming late to class, or skipping a chapter, or failing to finish the course within the time agreed upon. Throughout the year, he was required to sweep the classroom and keep its windows mended!

Underlying Principle

Now, I am free to confess that in the treatment of professors at Rollins College we do not carry out this Twelfth Century program anything like completely, but its underlying idea--namely that professors are made for the students, not students for the professors--is likewise the idea at Rollins.

I confess, moreover, that the introduction and maintenance of the two-hours conference system has been far from easy. It presupposes a very unusual type of professor--the sympathetic, lovable type, whom students will recognize instantly as a friend. A Phi Beta Kappa key, a Ph. D., an aptitude for research, and the authorship of half a dozen, text-books may be sufficient to qualify a man for a professorship at the ordinary college, but not at Rollins. I never call a man to Rollins unless, beyond all this, former students of his tell me that he is a human being. Try to staff a college with professors of that type, and you will find that you have your hands full. Succeed, and you will still have your hands full, for it is the hardest thing in the world to convince even the best professors that they teach most effectively when they teach with their mouths shut.

College Life

Meanwhile, the two-hours conference system, with four two-hours periods a day, involves heavy work for the student. Nobody can loaf. Nobody can shirk. Nobody can bluff. However, the two-hours conference system has not scared away students from Rollins, widely advertised though that system has been. This year's enrollment shows a twenty per cent increase, and we have a waiting list.

Neither has the system tended to diminish the jollity of college life. If anything, it has increased it. They say in the Navy, "A strict ship is a happy ship", and a student at Rollins soon discovers that the definitely required study periods, with their inescapable exactments, leave him at liberty to enjoy to the full what remains of his waking hours. In his recreation, he is never haunted by the thought, "Hang it! I'm fooling away time when I ought to be studying.