dious. It had been occupied by two
classes of an overcrowded primary school, which had now been removed to
a fine modern building. The two rooms rented for this pioneer free
kindergarten of the Pacific Coast were (Alas!) in the second story but
were large and sunny. A broad flight of twenty wooden steps led from
street to first floor and a long stairway connected that floor with the
one above. If anyone had realized what those fifty or sixty stairs meant
to the new enterprise, in labor and weariness, in wasted time and
strength of teachers and children--but it was difficult to find ideal
conditions in a crowded neighborhood.

The first few days after my arrival in San Francisco were spent in the
installing of stove, piano, tables, benches and working materials, and
then the beautifying began, the creation of a room so attractive and
homelike, so friendly in its atmosphere, that its charm would be felt by
every child who entered it. I was a stranger in a strange city, my only
acquaintances being the trustees of the newly formed Association. These
naturally had no technical knowledge, (I am speaking of the Dark Ages,
when there were but two or three trained kindergartners west of the
Rocky Mountains) and the practical organization of things--a
kindergarten of fifty children in active operation--this was my
department. When I had anything to show them they were eager and
willing to help, meantime they could and did furnish the sinews of war,
standing sponsors to the community for the ideals in education we were
endeavoring to represent. Here is where the tin shop steps came in. I
sat there very often in those sunny days of late July, 1878, dreaming
dreams and seeing visions; plotting, planning, helping, believing,
forecasting the future. "Hills peeped o'er hills and Alps on Alps."

I take some credit to myself that when there were yet no such things as
Settlements and Neighborhood Guilds I had an instinct that this was the
right way to work.

"This school," I thought, "must not be an exotic, a parasite, an alien
growth, not a flower of beauty transplanted from a conservatory and
shown under glass; it must have its roots deep in the neighborhood life,
and there my roots must be also. No teacher, be she ever so gifted, ever
so consecrated, can sufficiently influence the children under her care
for only a few hours a day, unless she can gradually persuade the
parents to be her allies. I must find then the desired fifty chil