April 3, 1837

Frances Rolleston is writing from Watnall where she established several infant schools:

"Snow, snow, snow! Again the weather-wise primroses and violets that would not unclose their eyes, are covered with the warm wintry mantle which preserves them from the nipping frost; but I grieve for the young lambs, and for the poor infants who cannot get to school, and the poor mothers who have to bear all the artillery of crying and teazing, which their own 'old system,' of saying 'No' as long as their patience will last, and then yielding and saying 'Yes,' has taught the children to use."

Violets, lambs and children--three of the small things dear to FR--or Miss R., as the children call her. Violets protected by the snow reveal her interest and awareness of the natural surroundings. Young lambs suffering in the cold show her tender heart for animals. And her love for the children makes her aware of their disappointment in missing school. She also understands how miserable their mothers are in such a situation because they have not been taught how to get their children to obey. 

Yet, FR herself is unable to keep order in the classroom. 

"In the school-rooms  I cannot keep order, and few teachers can keep it when I am present, so excited are the children by the instinctive feeling of the super-abundance of love I bear them, and I suppose also of the deficiency to the talent of preserving order and arrangement. The teachers I employ have the more need to study well that discipline of obedience, through which alone the best instruction can gain the infant attention."

Yet, somehow the little ones listen intently when she leads them outdoors and speaks of the natural wonders around them. Like the little violets suffering in the cold, they spring up to the warmth of her sunshine.

[The accompanying photo is of Johnny-jump-ups; not violets, but similar.]

Watnall 1836

Near the schoolhouse runs a brook with the pastoral name of Sheep-wash. A little footbridge crosses it, a long, broad slab of stone. Behind the schoolhouse lie green meadows on the slope of a hill where sit the remains of a castle; a rookery crowns the hill. The shallow brook presents a challenge to teachers and mothers, for the children love to walk in it, especially in warm weather, but fail to remove their shoes.

This afternoon, students emerge from the schoolhouse, and Miss Rolleston follows the last stragglers out. She overtakes the children by the brook. Some are gathering early violets. One group occupies the bridge to dispute the teacher’s passage, clinging affectionately to her. She has the “Violet Lesson” in her hand and three or four children begin at once to read the lines they already know, tracing them with their fingers. One little blue-eyed one repeats

The lily loves the pleasant sound
By running waters made.

As she reads, she glances expressively at the rippling water, turning her ear toward its sound. The teacher is struck by the tiny child’s obvious understanding of the words the pleasant sound, and decides then and there to retain that wording in her little poem, which runs in full as

The violet loves the sunny bank
The primrose loves the shade
The lily loves the pleasant sound
By running waters made.

She had for a while changed the wording of the third line to “The lily of the vale, the sound,” hoping to make it more easily understood. But the little girl obviously felt and understood the original version. Four or five of the little ones now go over the song something in the style of ancient catches and glees, some singing out of the glee in their hearts and catching each other up.

Miss Rolleston observes her little charges closely, and uses their natural learning methods to build her teaching techniques.