upil's mind a prejudice against the very
thing taught is quite another matter.

That phase of teaching which is concerned with the development of these
intangible forces may be termed "inspiration"; and it is the lack of an
adequate test for the efficiency of inspiration that makes the task of
supervision so difficult and the results so often unsatisfactory.

Nevertheless, even here the outlook is not entirely hopeless. One may be
tolerably certain of at least two things. In the first place, the great
"emotionalized prejudices" that must come predominantly from school
influences are the love of truth, the love of work, respect for law and
order, and a spirit of cooeperation. These factors undoubtedly have their
basis in specific habits of honesty, industry, obedience, and regard for
the rights and feelings of others; and these habits may be developed and
tested just as thoroughly and just as accurately as habits of good
spelling and correct syntax. Without the solid basis of habit, ideals
and prejudices will be of but little service. The one caution must be
taken that the methods of training do not defeat their own purpose by
engendering prejudices and ideals that negate the habits. It is here
that the personality of the teacher becomes the all-important factor,
and the task of the supervisor is to determine whether the influence of
the personality is good or evil. Most supervisors come to judge of this
influence by an undefined factor that is best termed the "spirit of the
classroom."

The second hopeful feature of the task of supervision in respect of
inspiration is that this "spirit" is an extremely contagious and
pervasive thing. In other words, the principal or the superintendent may
dominate every classroom under his supervision, almost without regard to
the limitations of the individual teachers. Typical schools in every
city system bear compelling testimony to this fact. The principal _is_
the school.

And if I were to sum up the essential characteristics of the ideal
supervisor, I could not neglect this point. After all, the two great
dangers that beset him are, first, the danger of sloth--the old Adam of
laziness--which will tempt him to avoid the details, to shirk the
drudgery, to escape the close and wearisome scrutiny of little things;
and, secondly, the sin of triviality--the inertia which holds him to
details and never permits him to take the broader view and see the true
ends toward which details are