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Title: Froebel's Birthday
Author: Nora A. Smith [
More Titles by Smith]
"The whole future efficiency of man is seen in the child as a germ."--
FROEBEL.
On this day, children, the twenty-first of April, we always remember
our dear Froebel; for it was his birthday.
We bring flowers and vines to hang about his picture, we sing the
songs and play the games he loved the best, and we remember the story
of his life. We thank him all day long; for he made the kindergarten
for us, he invented these pretty things that children love to do, he
thought about all the pleasant work and pleasant play that make the
kindergarten such a happy place.
On this very day, more than a hundred years ago, the baby Froebel came
to his happy father and mother. He was a little German baby, like
Elsa's brother and Fritz's little sister, and when he began to talk
his first words were German ones.
But the dear mother did not stay long with her little Friedrich, for
she died when he was not a year old, and he was left a very sad and
lonely baby. His father was a busy minister, who had sermons to write,
and sick people to see, and unhappy people to comfort, from one end of
the week to the other, and he had no time to attend to his little son;
so Friedrich was left to the housemaid, who was too busy herself to
care for him properly. She was often so hurried that she was obliged
to shut him up in a room alone, to keep him out of her way, and then
it was very hard work for the child to amuse himself.
The only window in this room looked out on a church that workmen were
repairing, and Friedrich often watched these men, and tried to do just
as they did. He took all the small pieces of furniture, and piled one
on top of the other to make a big, big church, like the one outside;
but the chairs and stools did not fit each other very well, and soon
the church would come tumbling about his head. When Froebel grew to be
a man, he remembered this, and made the building blocks for us, so
that we might make fine, tall churches and houses as often as we
liked.
Rebel's home was surrounded by other buildings, and was close to the
great church I told you about. There were fences and hedges all around
the house, and at the back there were sloping fields, stretching up a
high hill.
When the little boy grew old enough to walk, he played in the garden
alone, a great deal of the time; but he was not allowed to go outside
at all, and never could get even a glimpse of the world beyond. He
could only see the blue sky overhead, and feel the fresh wind blowing
from the hills.
His father had no time for him, his mother was dead, and I think
perhaps he would have died himself, for very sadness and lonesomeness,
if it had not been for his older brothers. Now and then, when they
were at home, they played and talked with him, and he grew to love
them very dearly indeed.
When Friedrich was four years old, his father brought the children a
new mother, and for a time the little boy was very happy. The mother
was quite kind at first; and now Froebel had some one to walk with in
the garden, some one to talk with in the daytime and to tuck him in
his little bed at night. But by and by, when a baby boy came to the
new mother, she had no more room in her heart for poor Friedrich, and
he was more miserable than ever. He tried to be a good boy, but no one
seemed to understand him, and he was often blamed for naughty things
he had not done, and was never praised or loved.
When he had learned to read he was sent to school, though not with
other boys, for his father thought it better for him to be with girls.
The school was pleasant and quiet, and Friedrich liked the teacher
very much. Every morning the children read from the Bible, and learned
sweet songs and hymns which the little boy remembered all his days.
The life at home grew no happier, as Friedrich grew older; indeed, he
seemed to be more in the way and to get into trouble more often.
When he was ten years old his uncle came to visit them, and seeing
Friedrich so unhappy, and fearing he would not grow up a good boy
unless some one cared for him, the good uncle asked to be allowed to
take the child home with him to live.
Now, at last, Friedrich had five happy years!
His uncle lived in a pretty town on the banks of a sparkling little
river. Everything was pleasant in the house, and Friedrich went to
school with forty boys of his own age. He jumped and ran with them in
the playgrounds, he learned to play all kinds of games, and he was
happy everywhere,--at school, at home, at church, playing or working.
When these five pleasant years had gone by, Froebel had finished
school, and now he must decide what he would do to earn his living. He
had always loved flowers, since the days when he played all alone in
his father's garden, and he liked to be out-of-doors and to see things
growing; so he made up his mind to be a surveyor, like our George
Washington, you know, and to learn, besides, how to take care of trees
and forests.
He studied and worked very hard at these things, and gained a great
deal of knowledge about flowers and plants and trees and rocks.
By and by he left this work and went to college, where he studied a
long time and grew to be very wise indeed. There were numbers of
things he had learned to do: he could measure land, take care of
woods, and draw maps; he could make plans of houses, and show men how
to build them; he knew all about fine stones and minerals, and could
sort and arrange them; but he found, at last, that there was nothing
in the world he liked so well as teaching, for he loved children very
much, and he liked to be with them. When Froebel was a grown man,
thirty years old, a great war broke out in Germany, and he went away
to fight for his country; like our George Washington again, you see.
He marched away with the soldiers, and fought bravely for a year; and
then the war was over, and he went back to his quiet work again.
For the rest of his life Froebel went on teaching all kinds of
people,--boys and men, and young girls and grown-up women; but he
never was quite happy or satisfied till he thought of teaching tiny
children, just like you.
He remembered very well how sad and miserable he was when a little
boy, with no one to love him, nobody to play with, and nothing to do;
so he thought of the kindergarten, where there are pleasant playmates,
pretty work, happy play for everybody, and teachers who love little
children.
He was an old man when he thought of the kindergarten; but be was
never too old to play with children, and people who went to his
country home used to see him, with the little ones about him, playing
the Pigeon House, or the Wheel, or the Farmer, or some of the games he
made for us.
He was often very poor, and he worked very hard all his life; but he
did not care for this at all, if he could help other people and make
children happy. And when, at last, it was time for him to die, and to
go back to God, who sent him to us, he was quiet and happy through all
his sickness, and almost the last words he said were about the flowers
he loved so well, and about God who had been so good to him.
So this is the reason, little ones, that we keep Rebel's birthday
every year,--because we want you to remember all he did for little
children, and to learn to love him just as he loved you.
"Come, let us live with our children; so shall their lives bring peace
and joy to us; so shall we begin to be, and to become wise."--
FROEBEL.
[The end]
Nora A. Smith's short story: Froebel's Birthday
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