Ch.203Public Education (1)

According to one piece of information from a past life that inexplicably exists in my memories, the fundamental reason for implementing universal education—public education in the modern sense—was actually “conscription.”

Unlike professional combat groups or privileged classes with power, those with separate occupations could be quickly conscripted, then “trained,” and finally issued weapons, allowing for the rapid and inexpensive mass production of soldiers.

Firearms in particular, which can kill anyone with a single shot regardless of who fires them, are the perfect companion to conscription. However, the quality of these conscripted soldiers naturally tends to be considerably lower.

Whether each soldier can perform basic arithmetic. Whether they can count numbers. Whether they can read orders from superiors, and furthermore, memorize the strict military regulations.

These abilities, which seem so “basic” from today’s perspective, were not basic at all back then. Therefore, after implementing conscription, societies also established public education as a preparatory measure.

Additionally, public education has great power in transforming humans with loose regional identities into “citizens” of a single nation, giving them a common identity that binds people together.

In short, this universally implemented public education forms the foundation of the modern nation-state….

But frankly speaking, among humanity still drifting somewhere between medieval and modern times, even if partially touching the industrial age, could such a system—symbolic of the modern state—really be implemented?

In the Frankish Kingdom, the most common form of education is, naturally, the tutoring system targeting the nobility, while the peasants, who make up the vast majority of the population, learn life wisdom through observation at best.

Of course, this is just the story of the countryside. In reality, many cities have vocational schools of sorts—and simultaneously, numerous prestigious universities exist in the Frankish Kingdom.

…Though in reality, they’re merely institutions bearing the name “university” while being closer to branches of magic towers, or outright branches themselves.

Well, at least the Holy Empire operates some form of public education.

They are literally a garrison state. There are even frequent cases where people mock that it’s not the state owning the army, but the army owning the state—a society where all citizens are conscripted.

Of course, the reality is that without this system, they couldn’t sustain the constant military losses from conflicts breaking out in all directions….

For now, if I had to say, most citizens of this Holy Empire can receive benefits from the state and become subjects of public education.

Since there are considerable gaps and differences between the various electorates within the Holy Empire, I can’t make definitive statements, but they all basically implement rudimentary public education for all citizens to raise soldiers.

Well, what can you expect from crazed militarists who implement public welfare policies and medical benefits claiming they need excellent soldiers.

And the reason I’ve been rambling on about education is for one purpose only.

‘…Should I try implementing public education?’

It’s because I’ve had the thought of trying to establish a simple public education system for the children of the village.

※ ※ ※

In truth, child labor still accounts for a surprisingly large portion of the village’s workforce.

Of course, it’s only “surprisingly large.” In reality, most of these children engage in practice rather than full-fledged labor.

For instance, children who will inherit the family business learn necessary skills under their parents’ guidance, and even those who won’t inherit still often learn these skills.

But more numerous than these are the children from farming households, the village’s core industry…. They are naturally deployed in agricultural work to supplement the insufficient workforce.

The amount of labor required for sowing, plowing, weeding, and harvesting is considerable, and since these tasks cannot be done alone, children naturally supplement the workforce.

However, there’s a certain age threshold for children to effectively supplement labor. Particularly, to handle farm tools and work effectively, they need to be at least 12-13 years old to contribute even half an adult’s work.

Below that age, their physical abilities are fundamentally too low, and their judgment is generally poor, so frankly speaking, trying to make very young children work just turns them into burdens.

Therefore, villages typically allow such children to play freely, or at most, have them accompany adults during gathering activities….

‘…Would it be alright to try?’

My idea was to provide some basic education to these children who don’t have assigned roles in the village.

Of course, by education, I don’t mean anything formal or intensive—just basic literacy, arithmetic… and perhaps some common sense teachings.

Honestly, the days when one could get by without knowing how to read are long gone.

The difference between literacy and illiteracy affects daily life, and there are also many scammers who specifically target the illiterate.

Additionally, the impact of basic arithmetic on daily life is enormous—so much so that many people try to learn it on their own because of how frequently it’s needed.

In this situation, teaching systematic arithmetic rather than leaving it to be learned through experience is certainly not a waste.

However, despite my decision to establish this small school, there are still many variables I need to address.

‘…Hmm.’

The simplest issue is the school’s location, which can be resolved by converting an empty house into a classroom.

Since there are fewer than 30 children to teach, there’s no need to divide them into classes or make special arrangements.

Therefore, the most pressing issue is probably finding a teacher for the children.

In a world where the concept of public education is vague at best, professional teachers are practically mythical creatures.

Moreover, since the content I want to teach doesn’t require specialized knowledge, the teacher doesn’t need exceptional expertise….

But the fact remains that most suitable candidates are too busy.

Lord Malakai Falten, the first intellectual who comes to mind, is an outsider, and asking such a prominent figure to handle such a simple, trivial matter would be inappropriate.

Additionally, Gretel is busy educating a girl she took as an apprentice some time ago, as well as developing various magical potions.

Priests, who typically play significant roles in educational infrastructure, are unfortunately too busy with their daily duties.

Naturally, the vast majority of administrators, including Charlotte, cannot step up due to their official duties.

‘…Perhaps Corin is the only option left?’

So the only suitable candidate remaining in the village is Corin.

He does his work adequately without being excessively busy, and he possesses the proper education befitting a knight.

However, this doesn’t mean there aren’t various minor issues with Lord Corin.

For example, the most representative concern is whether someone of his high position, serving as my attendant, would tolerate teaching mere commoner children—an act that would be considered “undignified” by Frankish Kingdom standards.

I know from our long association that he doesn’t look down on subordinates like insects, but would Lord Corin welcome the task of teaching literacy to mere commoners?

To a true knight of this era who lives and dies by honor and would sacrifice everything for it, assigning teaching duties might even be perceived as an insult.

“Corin, I have a request.”

“What is it?”

So with half worry and half concern, I politely asked Corin if he would take on this teaching role. After a moment of contemplation, Corin graciously accepted my request.

“Lord Alzar, what about this?”

“…I think it’s good.”

No, he was actually showing more enthusiasm toward this public education matter than I had anticipated.

‘…Why?’

I was experiencing the strange sensation of having my tentative suggestion succeed beyond my expectations, without even knowing the reason.