Something Different in Class Day Exercises

9%

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 20, 1916

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 92, No. 4.

Read the full edition

Something Different in Class Day Exercises

THE class program of the graduating class of the Washington Sanitarium and Hospital Training School for Nurses, the night of Dec. 19, 1915, was of a character that warrants our special mention. As indicating what may be done on such an occasion to make the closing work of a class both entertaining and instructive, a brief account will be of interest, especially to those who feel that too often the light and the frivolous in the class program are disproportionate to the serious and the earnest of the commencement exercises.
There were six members of the class. After invocation by Elder F. M. Wilcox, a solo by C. R. Gibbs, and a class history—and it was good, too—by Ethel Fankhouser, the platform was cleared of chairs, and successive settings made for demonstrating six fields of usefulness open to the graduate nurse.
Dispensary work in China was shown by Gertrude Cornor. With dressings, bandages, medicines, and instruments in readiness, the nurse in Chinese dress was ready for patients. A case of broken arm was the first, and it soon was in splints and plaster of Paris bandage. Next came a case of sore eyes. The nurse explained to her assistant and to the audience the reasons for the prevalence of much eye trouble among Orientals, giving proper treatment the meanwhile. The Chinese patients kept up an animated conversation in Chinese, and manifested great interest in all they saw. Gospel literature was given them as they left.
Bible work among poor and rich was shown by Nellie Strickler. The demonstration opened with a poor woman's room, a sick child lying in a chair, and the tired mother at a washtub. Answering a knock at the door, the mother admitted the visiting nurse, who soon saw the needs, and began at once to give relief. First she gave instruction as to the care of the child. Then, getting the mother to sit down to rest, she rolled up her sleeves and took hold of the washing, much to the surprise of the woman. The conversation naturally drifted to the Bible as an exponent of real religion, and finally to an appointment for Bible studies.
The scene was changed to a rich home, with the woman of leisure sitting with her latest novel. She reluctantly answered the repeated knock at the door, and admitted the visiting nurse, who soon made known that she was soliciting help for the poor woman with a sick child but a short distance away. The woman of means responded after a little discussion of the reasons for poverty. Becoming interested in what the nurse told about true Bible religion, the woman expressed her desire to know more of the Bible, and arrangements were made for studies.
The church-school teacher was represented by Ethel Fankhouser. Her school-room was in neat order as the children entered and seated themselves. Little Winifred seemed dull in her failure to respond to questions and suggestions. On investigation, the teacher found that it was not stupidity but poor hearing, due to causes easily remedied. Maud found difficulty in obeying directions to “sit up” properly, and the difficulty was found by the teacher to be in the chair and desk, and not in the child. Information was given the hearers as to proper seating. Bessie's cough called for attention and a note to her mother. Ethel held her book so close to her eyes that the discerning nurse-teacher saw it must be on account of weak eyes. A test proved this to be the case. Horace did not look well, and on examination was found to have a rise of temperature and to be in possible danger of a serious fever. The class was dismissed, and a little talk on the health needs of the school was given the audience.
The professional nurse was represented by Fancheon Roth, showing the nurse in a sanitarium room with a patient—a case of “nerves.” The need of tact, skill, and good training to deal with the varied demands made upon the true nurse was well shown, and it was plainly evident that properly to fill the place of a professional nurse one should be first a missionary nurse. To such a nurse the patient is more than a “case.”
Mrs. Roundtree, impersonated by Marguerite von der Schmidt, represented the nurses who marry and settle down to housekeeping, but make all the better wives and housekeepers for being nurses first. She was seated in her room, expressing her enjoyment at freedom from the activities of the regular nurse's life, when the architect came with the plans for the new Roundtree home. The plans received careful consideration, and the architect was given a little lecture on correct principles of heating and ventilation. He recognized why Mr. Roundtree had referred the plans to his wife for final approval. The next caller was a neighbor who came to express her appreciation of the good meal she and her husband had enjoyed at the Roundtree table a few evenings before, and to ask for suggestions for a company dinner she was planning. The nurse-housewife gave the needed help, offering a holiday menu, and giving reasons for doing certain things and not doing others.
Red Cross Service was the field of work demonstrated by C. R. Gibbs. He was giving a health lecture when recruiting officers found him and called him to the service of the king. His disinclination to bear arms received little consideration until it was learned that he had at one time been trained in nursing. His services for relief work were welcomed, and later he was seen ministering to the wounded brought in from the battle field.
The company present, filling the sanitarium gymnasium, thoroughly enjoyed the program. Nothing needed to be said to call attention to the value of a class exercise that was so in keeping with the three years' training just closing and with the call of the future just opening. All was appropriate to the commencement exercises of the following night, at which time Elder W. A. Spicer gave the address and Dr. H. W. Miller presented the diplomas. L. A. HANSEN.