William Shakespeare - "The Tragedie of Richard the Third"

Gerold K. Rohner - "Frau und Kindern auf der Spur"

Octave Thanet - "Stories of a Western Town"

James Oliver Curwood - "The Valley Of Silent Men"

Your Child: Today and Tomorrow

S >> Sidonie Matzner Gruenberg >> Your Child: Today and Tomorrow




From the various studies that have been made we may see that the kind
of ideals that a child is likely to have depends a great deal upon the
_people_ with whom he becomes familiar, upon the _ideas_ with which he
becomes familiar, and upon the _activities_ with which he becomes
familiar. The child should have an opportunity to discover the best
that is available in his immediate environment. His earliest heroes
should be his parents; then the acquaintances near home should furnish
the qualities that will arouse his interest and admiration. It is a
mistake to thrust upon the child ideals ready made and imported for
the purpose. A hero thrust upon the young imagination may do service
for a while, but is likely to be discarded later when that particular
hero's virtues really need to be kept before the child much more than
they did in the earlier period. George Washington and his hatchet have
furnished us a legend that is a good illustration of this. The hero is
dressed up to be attractive to children of nursery age, and endowed
with nursery virtues. When the children grow up and so outgrow their
nursery ideals, they discard interest in and admiration for George
Washington: this is a serious loss to our national idealism.

The results of the studies also indicate how significant is suitable
literature in the formation of ideals. A comparison of returns from
girls with those from boys throws an important side light on this
problem. In nearly every group of answers received it was evident
that most girls, when they get to a certain age, adopt ideals that
are decidedly masculine. The explanation of this seems to lie in the
fact that the characters of history and of literature with whom they
become most familiar are those showing distinctly masculine
qualities. There are real differences between the mind of a girl and
the mind of a boy, and these should be taken into consideration in
their training. There is great need for the clearer recognition and
sharper definition of distinctly feminine ideals. It is not enough
to transfer some imitation masculine ideals to the minds of our
girls.

We should make a special effort to discover our children's ideals,
for several reasons. First of all, by knowing what the girl or boy
has nearest the heart we shall be able to enter into closer sympathy
with the child, we shall be able to understand much of the conduct
that would otherwise baffle as well as annoy us. In the second
place, by watching the rise of ideals we shall be better able to
direct the child's playing and his reading and those other
activities that are needed to supply the experiences and ideas that
seem to be lacking, or to discourage tendencies that seem to us
undesirable. In the third place, if we know our children's ideals we
can make use of these as motive forces in helping us to carry out
our larger plans. It is when the boy is in the military stage of his
ambitions that we should try to make the virtues of the soldier
habitual parts of his character. It is when the girl is ambitious to
make a fine garden that we should try to make her fix the habits of
orderliness, regularity, and attention to details. Of course, not
every girl will want to have a garden, and many a boy never cares to
be a soldier; but at every stage there are ideals that can be called
upon to fix the heart upon certain virtues until the latter become
habits.

It is very easy to ridicule the ideals and ambitions of children when
they seem to us too high-flown or futile. But a person's ideals stand
too close to the centre of his character to be treated so rudely. It
is better to ignore the many trifling flights of fancy that are not
likely to have any permanent effect, and to throw the child into
circumstances that will force the emergence of more deep-seated or
far-reaching ambitions.

There is another danger in the ease with which a child's faith in
ideals is destroyed, when these happen to interfere with our own
immediate comfort and desires. When a boy has gotten into some
mischief with his friends, and is the only one caught, we are
tempted to bring pressure to bear upon him to make him tell who the
other culprits were. Joe is ready to take his own punishment, and
that of his fellow malefactors, too, rather than "snitch." But for
some reason we feel that "justice" demands the conviction of every
individual involved. The conflict is not between our sense of
justice and the boy's stubbornness or wilfulness; it is rather a
struggle between our demand for retribution and the boy's ideal of
loyalty. If, through threats and cajolery or more indirect methods,
we at last succeed in finding out that it was Mrs. Brown's Bob who
was responsible for the whole affair, we have at last broken down
Joe's inclination to act according to certain ideal standards. Joe
has fallen in his own estimation beyond calculation. It is better to
let Bob go "unpunished" than to make Joe go back on his principles.

One important outcome of a study of our children's ideals and
ambitions should be the direction of their vocational choices. We
have read of Benjamin Franklin's father, who took his boys about to
various shops with a view to helping them make up their minds as to
what kind of trade they should follow. Nowadays we should consider
this method rather crude; but for a variety of reasons most of us do
not do even this much for our children. A study of children's plans
and hopes for their future work brings out the fact that the desire
to "earn money" as a motive in the choice increases up to the age of
twelve years, and then declines rapidly. This may be taken to mean
that, apart from the enlarged range of interests that comes with
increased experience, there is also an efflorescence of the fancy
that leads to increased concern with ideal ends. This is confirmed
by a comparison of the choice made by children of well-to-do
families with those made by children of rather poor people. The
children of the poor, in tragically large numbers, appear to accept
the fact of working as a necessity of life; they accept this
doggedly as a matter of course. The children of more prosperous
families, on the other hand, though frequently expressing
preferences for the same kinds of occupations, have their hearts set
on the joy of achievement, or on the ideal of service, or on the fun
of _doing_, in much larger proportions.

From answers written by English children in a factory district these
examples are typical:

A boy of eight: "I should like to be a Carpenter. Because my mother
says I can be one."

A girl of twelve: "I should like to go out when I am older to earn
my own living."

Another girl of twelve: "I think it would be nice to go out to a
situation."

In contrast with these are the answers given by children of the same
ages who came from homes of culture, if not always of wealth:

A boy of eight: "I would like to be like Major ---- because I like
carpentering very much and he carpenters beautifully. Once he bought
a box for his silver and there was one tray to it and he wanted to
make little fittings for the silver so first he painted some names
on some paper of all the different things he had; then he cut them
out and supposing he wanted to put knives and forks quickly he would
have a little name written down where they ought to go and he made
the fittings most beautifully quite as well as any shop would."

A girl of thirteen: "One thing I should like to do would be to be a
very clever naturalist, and to know everything about everything
alive or in the country world."

A girl of ten: "I should like to be a piano teacher, when I grow up,
for then I shall be able to learn to play many pieces of poetry."

A part of this difference is no doubt due to the fact that in many
families there are traditional ideals of the obligations of
privilege, which the children readily imitate; or to the fact that
these children do not have to think about the necessity of earning a
livelihood, and so give their attention to the enjoyments that can
be derived from various kinds of activity.

The subject of vocational guidance, which has come into great
prominence during the past few years, includes so many ideas that
are confusing and misleading that large numbers of people have
become alarmed and are fighting the movement. In the first place,
the title itself is misleading. Most people do not enter upon
"callings" in the true sense of that word; they get into some kind
of occupation or business, but could just as readily have adjusted
themselves to any one of a thousand other occupations. Then the
matter of _guidance_ is misleading. It is impossible for anyone
to-day to undertake to guide young people into their occupations.
All that can be hoped for is that children may be given an
opportunity to find out about the different types of work that need
to be done, and about the different human qualities that are of
value in the various occupations.

The question that concerns the parent is: What special inclinations
has the child that can be utilized in a future occupation? It is not
so much a question of making full use of your child's talents as it
is of giving him an opportunity to do the kind of work in which he
will be most happy. Society at large is interested in conserving all
the different kinds of ability, but the individual child is
concerned with realizing his own ideals, with living, so far as
possible, his own life. At the same time, the evidence which we have
on the subject--not very much, to be sure--shows that there is
really a close connection between what a child likes to do and what
he can do well. It is, of course, true that one can learn to do well
what at first comes hard, and then learn to like it. But we must not
forget that strong inclinations must be carefully considered when
future work is being decided upon.

Our children are so imitative that a child with marked talents will
occasionally not reveal these in surroundings that lay emphasis on
qualities unrelated to these talents. So many a boy with high-grade
musical ability will fail to show this where music is looked down
upon as something unworthy of a man. In the same way children will
develop ideals in imitation of what goes on around them. Every child
is likely at some time in his career to look forward to money-making
as the most desirable end in life; but most normal children will
pass beyond this ideal before adolescence. If, however, the
atmosphere in which the child lives is one of money-getting, the
child without strong tendencies toward other ideals is likely to
allow this ideal to persist into adolescence and young manhood or
womanhood. In such cases the ideal becomes fixed without indicating
that the individual is "by nature" of an avaricious temperament or
materialistically inclined.

The same principle of imitativeness would, of course, apply to other
ideals. This explains to us why the recurrence of certain ideals or
modes of life in successive generations of a family leads to the
supposition that there are "hereditary" elements at work. It is also
a good reason why we should guard against the contaminating
influence of unworthy ideals. It is impossible for us to carry about
imitation virtues and fool our children into imitating them.

Children begin to form their ideals early in life, and their first
standards are derived from the people and the things about them that
contribute to their pleasures--sweets and parents and the heroes of
the fairy tales.

As the child's experience broadens he borrows ideals from new
acquaintances and the characters he meets in his reading.

The child absorbs from his surroundings, from his acquaintances, and
from his reading, as well as from the instruction that he receives
in school or in church, materials for building a world of what
_ought_ to be. And in this world he himself plays a very
important rôle. We must therefore make sure that the materials for
ideals which are within our control shall be of the best.

Loose conversation, cynicism, open disrespect for the noble things
in human character, lack of faith in human nature cannot be
exhibited to the child day after day without having their sinister
effect. It is true that some children, here and there, will resist
these unfavorable influences, and will come out of the struggle
strong and self-reliant, with faith in their own ideals and with
faith in mankind. But we cannot afford to treat the developing
character of the child on the theory that it needs exercise and
temptation as a gymnast needs exercise and trying tasks. The
temptation that becomes a habitual stimulus to wrong doing or wrong
thinking has no moral value. The child is only too ready to follow
the path of least resistance, and the temptations will come aplenty
after the ideals begin to form.

High ideals in the home, and not merely good words; loyalty to
ideals and a spirit of confidence in the children, are needed to
give the children that confidence in themselves which they need to
make them loyal to their own ideals when these are out of harmony
with vulgar fashion.




XII.

THE STORK OR THE TRUTH


"Mother, where do babies come from?"

Some day you will be asked this question by your little girl or your
little boy--if you have not already been asked. What will your
answer be?

Even if you have been accustomed to giving frank answers to your
children's questions about all sorts of subjects, you are likely to
hesitate when it comes to this. You will be tempted to say what you
were probably told yourself, under similar circumstances. You will
perhaps say that the doctor brings babies in his satchel, or that
the stork brings babies in his bill. Or perhaps you will feel
impelled to tell Harry to go out and play, and ask you again a few
years later when he will be old enough to understand.

The telling of a myth like the stork story is harmless enough for
the time being. We have entertained Santa Claus for ages without
undermining the morals of our children. And we shall continue to
retell the fairy stories, for, although they are not, strictly
speaking, "true" stories, they have their place in the life of the
child. Why can we not go on, then, as we have done in the past,
leaning upon the stork?

The difference between the story of where babies come from and the
story of Santa Claus or Mother Hubbard is a very important one.
Santa Claus and Mother Hubbard represent ideas and interests that
are but passing phases in the child's development, whereas knowledge
about reproduction is something that grows in interest with the
years and reaches its deepest significance just at the time when you
can hardly, if at all, regain your hold upon your child, once you
have lost it. It does not matter much who disillusions your child
about Santa Claus. The disappointment is brief, and soon the child
can look upon the legend as a joke. But it does matter very much who
tells your child that the stork story is all a lie, and _how_
he is told.

It is well for mothers to realize that the embarrassment which they
may feel when this question is first asked is quite foreign to the
child, for the child at this time has no knowledge whatever of sex.
To him it is simply a question for satisfying his momentary
curiosity. Later on, when the child has become aware of the idea of
sex, he is not likely to ask his mother embarrassing questions, or,
if he should ask them, the situation would be equally embarrassing
to both--unless you have in the meanwhile kept in close sympathy
with your children, and they feel that they can come to you with any
question and be answered frankly. And the way to keep them in close
sympathy is by meeting frankly every question as it arises. It is
not necessary to answer every question by telling everything you
know; it is necessary merely to tell enough to satisfy the child's
immediate need. Not only, then, does your frank answer tend to keep
the child in touch with the mother, but you protect him in this
manner against going for his information to sources that are
frequently contaminating. The information that boys and girls give
one another about sex matters is often something appalling, not only
in its distance from the truth, but in the amount of filth with
which it is encrusted. It is the desire to keep his mind clean,
then, that should prompt the mother to tell her child what he wants
to know when he wants to know it. A third consideration is found in
the fact that many children, when they do not receive satisfactory
answers to their queries, will reflect and brood about the subject
to a degree that becomes morbid. This is especially likely to happen
where the subject of the child's inquiry is treated as though it
were an improper or a wicked one to speak about, so that the child
dares not ask others for enlightenment.

That the early answering of the child's questions may offset both
morbid curiosity and the danger of resorting to filthy sources of
information is illustrated by the story of a seven-year-old boy who
was invited by an older boy to come to the wood-shed for the purpose
of being told an important secret. "If you promise not to tell any
one," the older boy began, "I will tell you where babies come from."
"Why, I know where babies come from," replied the second, not
greatly interested. "Oh, yes you do! I suppose you think that a
stork brings them? Well, you're 'way off there. The stork ain't got
nothing to do with it," the instructor continued breathlessly, for
fear of being deprived of his opportunity to impart his precious
secret. At last the secret was out; but the younger replied, coolly,
"That's nothing. My mother told me that when I was four years old."
Since the matter had ceased to be a secret, and since the story even
lacked novelty, all opportunity for the elaboration of details was
destroyed.

But what can you tell to a child of four or five? For that is the
age at which the question is likely first to present itself.
Remember that the child is not asking a sex question, but one about
the direct source of himself, or about some particular baby that he
has seen. You can say that the baby grew from a tiny egg, which is
in a little chamber that grows as the baby grows, until the baby is
big enough to come out. This will satisfy most children for a
considerable time, but some children will immediately ask, "Where is
that little room?" To which you may reply, "The growing baby must be
kept in the most protected place possible, so it is kept under the
mother's heart." Or, you may say that the baby grew from a seed
implanted in the mother's body, that it was nourished by her blood
until it grew large enough, when it came out at the cost of much
suffering. Of course, you will tell the story as personally as you
can, about your particular child, and in as simple a way as you can.

If you tell the little girl or boy this much you have told him all
that he probably cares to know at this time; you have told the truth
so that you have nothing to fear about his being disillusioned
either as to the story or as to your own trustworthiness; and you
have avoided arousing the suspicion that certain subjects are
unworthy of understanding. And then you will find that this new
conception of his relation to you, as truly a part of your being,
will deepen and strengthen his natural feeling of affection and
sympathy. It is also well with the first telling to impress the
child--in so many words, if necessary--with the idea that he must
always come to you for anything he wants to know, and that you are
always glad to tell him.

As the child grows older his knowledge of life must grow also. In
the country and in small towns the child becomes familiar with many
important facts about life without any special effort being required
to inform him. He learns that chickies hatch out of eggs and that
the eggs have been laid by the mother hen. He learns that the field
and garden plants grow from seeds and that the seeds were borne by
the mother plants. He learns about the coming of the calf and the
colt; and even city children can learn that kittens and puppies come
from mother animals. It is a comparatively simple matter for a child
with such knowledge to get the further information that the baby
brother developed from an egg that mother kept near her heart during
the hatching time. Much of this knowledge that the country child
acquires incidentally must be brought to the city child through
special efforts and devices, in the school as well as in the home,
that he may acquire the fundamental facts of bearing and rearing
young, in plants as well as in animals, and that he may look upon
these facts not as strange or disconcerting marvels, but as natural
happenings.

Miss Garrett, one of the most successful teachers of sex and
reproduction, tells the story of some city boys who had been taught
these things, and who had decided, in their club, to raise rabbits.
The selection of a father rabbit and a mother rabbit was too
important a matter to leave to a committee, so the whole club went
in a body to attend to these preliminaries. The care the boys took
of the mother rabbit during her pregnancy was in itself an
education. Later Miss Garrett saw the leader of the club--who had
been the "toughest" of the gang--with another boy on the street,
while a pregnant woman was trying to cross with a heavy basket.
"Come on, Jim," he called, "let's help her across." This same boy
but a few months back would have ridiculed the poor woman in her
plight.

Every child can learn what Jim and his companion learned. He can
learn to respect motherhood and to be considerate of mothers as
mothers. It is very interesting to see the great differences in this
regard between families in which the fact of motherhood is a secret,
and those in which it is a matter of common knowledge. I was
visiting a friend whose six-year-old boy knew that another baby was
expected, and he was very careful to avoid annoying his mother. Of
course, the attitude of the other members of the family also had an
influence upon the conduct of this child. But another mother
complained that she received very little consideration during
pregnancy from her oldest son--a boy of fourteen--although all the
other members of the family were as careful and as thoughtful as
could be desired. This second mother, however, had allowed her older
boys to grow up on the assumption that sex and reproduction had
nothing to do with life, or, at any rate, were of no concern to them
and were not suitable subjects to know about; so that her boys did
_not_ know that something unusual was in the air, or that
something special was expected of them.

The important thing for the mother to do during these growing years
is to retain the confidence of the children, and to give them an
opportunity to become acquainted with the everyday facts about
plants and animals. The questions that come to the child's mind will
be questions of motherhood and babyhood, chiefly, and not questions
of sex or fatherhood. When these questions do at last arise, as they
are sure to almost any time after twelve years, and sometimes even
before, you have a great advantage if your child brings his
questions to you instead of to his casual acquaintances of the
school or street, even if you are not prepared to answer all the
questions for him. The girl will come to her mother, and the boy
will come to his father, if they have acquired the habit of coming
with frankness and confidence. Then, if for any reason you are not
qualified to tell what needs to be told, you may just as frankly say
so and refer the child to the right instructor, who may be a teacher
or the family physician. Older children may even be sent to suitable
books. But the most desirable condition is that in which the parents
have prepared in advance to answer all the questions themselves, and
even to anticipate some questions.

[Illustration: In the country children become acquainted with the
facts of life.]

The child should receive instruction along these lines at various
stages in his development, even up to young manhood or womanhood,
corresponding to his physical development and to his mental
development, which normally proceed in close relation to each other.
The girl should be informed how to care for her health. The boy
should be instructed about the sex life of the opposite sex to know
what they have a right to expect, or rather what they have no right
to demand of the other. Boys during the adolescent period, which has
been called the "age of chivalry and romance," are keen to
appreciate the rights of others and their own duties to the weak; it
is at this time that we are to appeal to their sense of honor in
establishing ideals of purity, and the sense of responsibility as
bearers of the life stream. The standards of sex morals are
established during this period, for girls as well as for boys. Their
strength to time of temptation will lie in the ideals which now
become fixed. We want our girls to grow up demanding purity of the
young men they will meet, not pretending that they do not know the
difference. And we want our boys to grow up with faith in the
literal truth of that fine line about Sir Galahad:

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