The Perfecter

As at most any conference of U.S. educators these days, the topic was bound to come up at the regional meeting of the National Education Association in Denver: What can a teacher do to help that most neglected of schoolchildren, the bright and eager pupil? Last week a genial and tireless public-school man named Eldred Harrington gave an answer that left his Denver audience astounded. "We didn't know what to make of the fellow," said one teacher, "but he certainly was interesting."

In Albuquerque, N. Mex., where he has lived and taught for most of his life. Eldred Harrington has long proved himself to be more than merely interesting. After graduating from the University of New Mexico in 1924, he forthwith embarked on a career that would have exhausted any other man. With a firm faith in "the perfectibility of human beings," Harrington made up his mind that a teacher's job must extend far beyond the schoolroom. "I will help anyone with anything in my power," said he, ". . . outside my own working hours."

Damned Interesting. In 1924 he started a free tutoring service that he has carried on to the present. Then in 1933, at Albuquerque High School, he began to single out his most eager students, drop enticing hints about "a damned interesting experiment" that he and they could do together some time after class. To the amazement of parents and teachers alike, the students took the hints: they began showing up for extra work, not only on weekends but as early as 5 o'clock in the morning. Harrington's Dawn Patrol classes became a standard fixture in Albuquerque. Though he never drove them ("You can't brutalize a course and expect a kid to go on with it"), he led hundreds of students into stages of science that they would not otherwise have confronted until well into college courses.

He also organized Sunday geology field trips and trained student troupes to give special science shows in the grade schools. Meanwhile, he kept on with his own studies. He took a second B.S., in geology, an M.S. in civil engineering and another in geology, an M.A. in secondary education, and a Ph.D. in physical chemistry. Finally, during World War II he added special classes for G.I.s from a nearby air base, most of whom were boning up for advanced ratings. Some of these classes convened at i a.m., the only convenient free time the G.I.s had.

Free Treatment. Today, as Director of Secondary Education in Albuquerque, Harrington still keeps a benevolent eye on his Dawn Patrol alumni. They include at least 25 physicians, 8 preachers. 8 geologists, 7 chemists, 12 lawyers, 17 schoolteachers, 7 college teachers, and more than 65 engineers. After hearing Harrington's story, a teacher in the Denver audience rose and commented that a man would be crazy to keep the hours he had. "Well," answered Harrington with a smile, "one of my earliest Dawn patrollers has become a fine psychiatrist who seems to feel that he wouldn't have been able to make it without my help. So if I'm crazy, it won't cost me anything; he promised to treat me free."

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