There is no forced inertness in Utopia, no slackness, no boredom, no yawning.

And the activity which is characteristic of the school is always the child's own activity.

The child himself is behind everything that he does.

The child himself is expressing himself in his every action.

Mechanical activity, the doing of things, not merely at the bidding of another, but also under his minutely detailed direction, is as foreign to the genius of the school as is the passivity of the helpless victims of the unenlightened teacher's "chalk and talk." The first consequence, then, of the training of the expansive instincts which is given in Utopia is the building up in each scholar of what I may call the habit of rational activity.