ABOUT COLLEGE ON GROWING UP TO DEMOCRACY SARAH WHITMAN For the past few months a discussion concerning the social life of college has been carried on in the About College section of the MONTHLY. The criticisms have been both commendatory and destructive but principally the latter. The center of most violent attack has been. the embryo sorority under whatever guise it may masquerade, a sorority being regarded as the natural enemy of democracy. Both invitation houses and batting clubs are accused of narrowness, snobbishness, in short of being embryo sororities. Moreover, honorary societies which are organized for the purpose of recognition of ability are subjected to similar accusations. But they do not deserve it. Ability ought to be recognized, and honorary societies fulfill the necessary function of recognizing ability; though perhaps not the highest ability, and obviously not all ability. There are many college students who, though not officially members of a society, yet do realize the purpose of the societies by encouraging ability wherever they find it. All such students are proudly claimed by the societies as co-workers with them. Enthusiastic recognition of ability is an essential element in democracy. It is hard to tell by what means this recognition can be best effected. A writer for the MONTHLY a short while ago expressed the opinion that honorary societies are unable in a college of two thousand to exercise any discrimination in recognition of ability, for the reason that two societies of fifty-five members each are too few to cope with this number; and if more societies were formed they would degenerate into sororities. Apparently no happy medium in the number of members for the societies can be reached. This is a pessimistic view to take of the possibilities of democracy. Let it be repeated that recognition of ability is essential to de mocracy. Utterly discouraging is the view of this writer for the MONTHLY. It is a human impossibility, one is told, for a hundred-odd people to discover who of two thousand people have special abilities. This human impossibility might be obviated, apparently by divine means, if the hundred-odd people were willing to depend upon the judgment of the two thousand. But no, after all it really is an impossibility for the hundred-odd to perceive real ability. No divine intervention can save the powers of higher judgment for the use of mankind. Human frailty is such that personal selfishness rather than impersonal idealism will always govern the critical faculties of the mind. Who can listen to this dark hopelessness without revolting from it? People can be disinterested and impersonal in making decisions, they can be idealistic; people can be so, and they are so. It is a fast pace and a hard pace which honorary societies set for their members. Every member must be constantly watchful of people around her. Besides the mechanical feat of identifying names and faces, there is a much more difficult task. This task is the careful observation of every person, of every activity, of every attitude throughout the college body. Some impressions are easy to register, as: this girl dresses neatly and becomingly; that one talks pleasantly and easily; another one has a sweet face and attractive manners. These impressions are non-essential; to notice them merely gives practice in the observation of more fundamental characteristics. Who can carry a hard part in division dramatics successfully? Who has written good work for the college periodicals? Who has been able through personal intercourse with her classmates, to win the trust and esteem of those classmates to such an extent that they will cast their votes for her in class elections? Who is spoken of highly by those who have worked with her, and by her intimate friends? People like these surely have ability. The members of the honorary societies must judge of the capacities of their college-mates. Much is expected of the members. They must be ceaselessly careful, always ready with silent appreciation. College could not have too many of such society members. Instead of resignations from the old societies, let new societies be formed. Yet it must always be, that some who achieve recognition of ability most successfully, are not officially enrolled in the societies which aim primarily for that achievement. These, who can successfully discover others' abilities, are the true leaders of the societies, honor-worthy members of the honorable societies. Someone has said that many girls feel their college careers have been failures because they are not members of an honorary society. Let their failures be on their own heads, for if they had sought earnestly the recognition of others' ability, they would have been as truly members of the societies as any who wear the pins. Among all who strive for democracy, or for any element of democracy, there can be no division. Their pride is the common pride of a high ideal, and of what moment is worldly vanity or bitterness against such a pride as this? Let us keep the forces which make for democracy, and cherish them carefully; our college is far from true democracy. In the words of '18's class poetess, "There are a great many things right about our life here, and a great many things wrong, and it is our business to hand down the first and root out the second." Individuals and societies aiming for recognition of ability are leading the way toward democracy. Let us keep them, stand up for them. Recognition of ability is a step toward democracy, a step which honorary societies will help us to take. THE KNITTING BAG WINIFRED HOWELL DAVIES Other bards may rave of sunrise, Just a bag of silk or cretonne, Do not let its name deceive you- If you're going to your gym class When you're going home for Christmas, Those galoshes must be taken, Here's a magazine to read, That's the case of writing paper, There's the nightgown that you'll need. What an easy way of packing! Hurry, though, for time is flitting. Now, the bag is full to bursting. Oh, too bad, you've left your knitting! LOOKING ON CHARLOTTE CRANDALL We who are students at Smith do not often stop to "see ourselves as others see us." In the rush and scramble of our daily routine, we do not take time to observe ourselves as we appear to people outside the college. Morning after morning we wake up and plunge into a day full to overflowing of the work and pleasure of life at Smith. If we prefer morning nourishment to an extra half hour of sleep, we go to breakfast. If the snow is not so deep that it sifts in over the tops of our galoshes, and if clean sheet day, sweep day, laundry day, or a last hasty perusal of notes for a written can be disposed of in a satisfactory manner before eight-twenty, we go to chapel. We divide the morning time between classes, the note room, the crackers and milk table, and the "Libe," with varying degrees of partiality. We spend an hour waiting for the mail that does not come, and five minutes scanning the headlines of the Times with a view to contributing bits of news to a particularly grasping luncheon table. The afternoon is taken with more classes, more study at the "Libe", exercise for an hour, a trip down town, and sometimes cheese dreams or tea with one lump. Dinner comes, and then ȧ meeting which we don't care anything about, but which we must attend, if we cannot meet brazenly the insulting accusation that we lack college spirit; or there is a lecture which we want to hear, but haven't time for; or there is a play this week which the family have just seen and recommended. There is the S. C. R. U. sweater which must be returned, the trip to the "Libe" at nine-thirty for a reference book, and the letter home. Small wonder that we find little time to spend looking on at ourselves! In the letter home, it seems to me that we forget completely how we appear to those away from our college world. There are so many things here which are of vital importance today. To be sure, we have put them aside till the next day, |