it easy to meet people and join naturally in whatever her neighbors may
be doing, has in her circle of friends a shy, awkward, self-conscious
girl, may she see her opportunity and realize her mission. The pure
kindliness of heart and the thoughtfulness which prompts a happy girl,
free from the pain of self-consciousness, and always at ease with her
friends, to shelter, stand by and call out the best in a shy girl
suffering from awkwardness deserve a rich reward.
The very opposite of the girl who is misunderstood and undervalued
because of her shyness, is the girl who, because of her boldness and
independence, her carelessness of speech, hilarity and adventuresomeness
is misunderstood.
"She doesn't mean anything by it," said one girl of another whom she was
trying to defend in the presence of a critic, "she is good hearted,
generous and just fine, but she has been brought up in a large family
where they have noisy times together." The critic accepted the
explanation but strangers, new people whom she met, men and women upon
the street, constantly misunderstood the girl whose unfortunate manners
would lead one to believe she was a most undesirable friend. The girl
was conscious that she was misjudged and misunderstood and was growing
hard and beginning not to care when an older woman who loved her showed
her with real tact where the trouble lay. No one could help admiring
that girl as she struggled to overcome the things which had been the
cause of all the misunderstandings.
I met awhile ago, a girl whom her companions described as _wooden_. I
knew that she wanted to talk with me, that she was interested in the
people whom the group were discussing. She seemed like a bright girl and
I felt sure that she had thoughts of her own worth hearing if she would
only express them. That was her trouble. She couldn't find words so she
said "yes," and "no" with effort when a remark was addressed directly to
her, otherwise she was silent. Later in the day a girl friend who really
appreciated her told me how very interesting she was when one knew her
well enough to dispel the awful fear that she should say the wrong
thing. She read the very best things and was conversant with the history
of important events all over the world. "She is a regular encyclopedia,"
said her ardent defender.
This wooden girl is misunderstood simply because she has not learned to
express the thoughts she has. She is unhappy, and feels that people do
not like her, and do not enjoy her company. In her heart she blames
_them_. But one cannot expect everyone to penetrate the exterior and see
and appreciate real worth. Most people take us for what we seem to be
and if we appear cold, uninteresting and ill at ease, they seek
pleasanter companions. The wooden girl _can_ overcome her stiffness and
learn to let people see that she thinks. She can cultivate a very rare
art--the art of listening with appreciation. There are very few
listeners in any group of people and often not one in a group of women.
It is a great thing to be able to listen with that attention and
interest which draws out the very best in the one who is talking.
More than that the girl who is termed wooden can learn to express
herself in words. She may never become a great talker but she need not
regret that. She can take part in conversation and can make it easy for
people to talk with her. I know a girl who plans before spending a
social evening with friends what she will talk about. Following the
advice of her mother who has suffered much through inability to talk,
she holds imaginary conversations which often become real when she meets
people later. She makes a special effort to remember the names of those
whom she meets and some of the things in which they are especially
interested. She is learning to remember the names of books and their
authors and publishers, she takes special pains to remember worth while
magazine articles and last spring people appealed to her again and again
for information regarding the Balkan situation. She is making herself
an interesting companion and in a few years I believe all traces of the
awkward wooden silence will disappear.
In the long line of misunderstood girls, are many whose interests and
enthusiasms are altogether outside their immediate environment. There
are girls at college and sometimes at boarding-school who have seen a
larger world and have come to love the real things of life. They find it
very hard to waste the days in superficialities. They long to have life
mean more than a round of social events, and the family and friends
misunderstand. Some girls of this sort have solved the problem by
gaining consent to plan their own days. Some have never been able to
gain that consent and have gone on for years in unhappiness. Others have
learned to inject into the seemingly superficial some real things and
have found an outlet for the best that is in them through work for those
in need. One must feel real sympathy for the girl who, striving to be
her best, to live above the round of pettiness and selfish pleasure, is
met with disapproval and misunderstanding.
Many a girl is misunderstood by the one person in the world who ought to
understand her best--her mother. Perhaps more bitter tears are shed by
girls because their mothers do not understand than for any other reason.
The misunderstanding oftentimes is the result of temperament. It is
exceedingly hard for two people of diametrically opposite temperaments
to live in close association without clashes. One of the most pitiful
things in home life today is seen where mother and daughter have
opposite interests and sympathies and lack self-control. The constant
criticism and judging of one another, the quick-tempered commands and
demands on the part of one and the sullen yielding on the part of the
other make one heart-sick.
I am reading over a letter from a girl who says, "I honestly love my
mother. I am proud of the things she can do and I admire her beauty.... I
am twenty-two years old, very ordinary looking and not a social success.
I am a constant disappointment to mother. Our opinions about everything
differ. We cannot agree upon the most trivial things. When father was
living he laughed at us and his genial spirit made things easier but the
last two years have been dreadful. What can we do? Mother does not need
me. When I am away on a visit everything goes smoothly at home and her
letters to me are affectionate. I love them and have kept them to read
when it does not seem as if she _could_ care for me. My uncle has asked
me to come to their home in D---- to be a companion for his
seventeen-year-old daughter who is lame. I love her and we get on well
together. Ought I leave my mother and go? She says I may do just as I
wish and does not seem to mind the thought of my going...."
Here is a clear case of clash of temperaments. Both are to blame, each
is misunderstood. In this particular case it seems wise that the
daughter should, for a time at least, accept her uncle's offer. She may
learn from a distance to understand her mother better and her mother may
more fully appreciate her daughter. Often it is far better that two
people who constantly clash should learn apart to respect and honor one
another than to live in a quarrelsome, fretful atmosphere which is bound
to banish deep affection and respect as well. Some daughters cannot be
their best at home and some mothers can never reveal their best selves
in their daughters' presence. That such can be the case is most
unfortunate and wrong. Away back in the daughter's childhood someone was
careless, in early girlhood a thin partition was raised which shut out
mutual love and trust. It might then have been destroyed, but was left
until it became a barrier almost impossible to break down.
But there are some girls who are misunderstood by their mothers, and who
because of circumstances must accept it and learn, despite
misunderstanding, to let love triumph. There is much that every girl
owes to her mother even though it be true that she is unfair and unjust.
One of the sweetest home makers I have ever known, in whose family it
seems to me no cross or critical word is ever spoken, whose boys and
girls trust her absolutely and love her devotedly, learned her patience
and forbearance, acquired her fine courtesy and graciousness in the
years when she was a misunderstood girl and had to live in an atmosphere
of petulance, ill-temper and selfishness.
The misunderstood girl whatever may be the reason for the
misunderstanding must cultivate frankness. She must learn to be
generous, she must help people to understand her. She must believe that
being misunderstood should deepen her sympathy and increase her tact.
One of the most marvelous teachers in our country today, who succeeds in
awakening dull hearts and minds, in controlling wayward and wilful
childhood, when asked to explain her power said simply, "I was a
misunderstood child. How I suffered! My mission is to relieve the
suffering of the misunderstood, whatever the cause."
There is a very brief prayer which every misunderstood girl might well
pray daily, "Help us to understand as we long to be understood."
VI
THE INDIFFERENT GIRL
Until she has entered upon her teens the attitude of the "don't-care" is
rare with the average girl. She either heartily approves or frankly
disapproves of those things that cross her path or claim her attention.
But with the coming of the teens those closely associated with the girl
often become conscious of the loss of that spontaneous response which
has made her such a delight. The teacher is puzzled by this change,
wonders if she has offended the girl, redoubles her efforts to make the
lesson interesting and seeks to win the girl's confidence. Sometimes her
efforts are rewarded by renewed interest but often the attitude of
indifference persists. The girl's mother feels keenly the change in her
once expressive, often demonstrative child, eager to talk and anxious to
join in everything, and says in a tone of condemnation that she cannot
understand her daughter.
The presence, in a class of ten or twelve girls, of even one indifferent
girl, or the presence in the schoolroom of three or four such girls,
chills the enthusiasm of the teacher and the class. Such a girl is a
"wet blanket," she is a cloud steal-in across the sun on a glorious
morning. Her indifference is contagious. She changes the atmosphere. If
the class is planning an entertainment she "does not care" what they
have, she does not care whether she has any part in it or not, she has
no choice as to the way the class funds are spent, she does not want to
look up any assigned topics, do any special work, or take part in any
debate or discussion.
She is a very real problem to teacher, parents and friends. To be able
to diagnose her trouble correctly and find a remedy for it is well worth
every effort of those who have her present and future in charge. Before
one can hope to help her he must discover the cause of her trouble.
Reprimanding her is of little avail, and discussing her indifference
with her is useless.
Some years ago a young teacher in the eighth grade in a public school
consulted me regarding a girl of fourteen whose indifference was a
great source of trial. The girl came to school with fair regularity. At
ten and eleven she had been considered a very bright pupil but was now
below the average in all her work. She often expressed the wish that she
need not go to school but when allowed to remain at home was restless
and unhappy.
Observation of the girl in class showed all that the young teacher had
said to be true. The girl took no voluntary part in the recitation and
when called upon her usual answer was "I don't know." I talked with her
and she said she liked the teacher, she liked the school and her
classmates. She did not care about them especially. She did not know
whether she would go to high school or not; she "didn't care either
way." She did not know what she wanted to do when she grew older. Her
excuse for falling so far behind her record of other years and her
unwillingness to recite was that she did not feel like studying and that
she could not seem to remember what she read. She said she felt well but
she was growing very rapidly and did not seem strong.
I called upon her mother and learned that she was greatly concerned
because of the changes in her daughter. I was surprised to find,
however, that she stated quite calmly that the girl's appetite was not
good and that she complained of being unable to sleep and of having
"dreadful dreams." The mother had not consulted a physician. She scolded
the girl for being lazy and indifferent; at school the teacher
reprimanded her constantly. I urged the mother by all the arguments I
knew to see a physician at once. She said her husband seriously objected
to one's "running to the doctor all the time," and that he thought the
girl would come out all right. If she did not "brace up pretty soon,"
she added, they might "take her out of school and put her to work."
During the winter the girl contracted a heavy cold and her indifference
and apparent laziness increased. The mother was finally enough impressed
by our concern for the girl to take her to a good physician. He found
her to be in a very run-down state, in bad condition nervously, and
really ill.
A year out of school, spent in a country town with her aunt, where she
had the best of food, fresh air and exercise, cured this indifferent
girl entirely.
Continual headache is often the cause of indifference, and eye strain or
improper food the cause of the headache. The first duty of those in
charge of the indifferent girl, before passing judgment upon her, is to
make sure that the physical condition is not at the bottom of the
trouble. Many a case of indifference and loss of spontaneous interest,
which cannot be cured by punishment, by persuasion, by prayers or
exhortation, _can_ be cured by a wise physician.
Sometimes a girl becomes indifferent from lack of a sympathetic
environment. She feels that others do not care about her and that what
she does makes no real difference to any one. She may be surrounded by
poverty, where the struggle to exist is so keen that there is no time to
think of the girl and her needs, or she may have every luxury yet be
denied the companionship of one who understands.
I am thinking now of a girl of fifteen, who does not seem in any way to
belong in the family where she was born. Her sisters are at work in the
factory and content. They are sweet, attractive and good. But she does
not want to work in the factory. She would "give the world to have a
room alone, that could be all fixed up," as she would like it. The
family cannot understand her. She can have none of the things for which
she longs, she is not able to be with the sort of people she loves and
admires. She wants good books, she enjoys music and longs to be
permitted to finish her high school course. She is willing to work out
of school hours, to do anything if only she may continue to study.
Because the family consider all her notions ridiculous, and all she
longs for seems impossible, the don't-care, reckless spirit and the
indifferent "what's the use anyway" are gradually enveloping her whole
life.
Surrounded by much that money can buy, a most interesting girl whom I
met recently is surrendering all her interests to the "don't-care"
spirit because the one great desire of her heart is not to be gratified.
She has been urged to enter upon the duties of the social world but says
she has tried it and "despises society." She does not care about travel,
she wants to be trained as a nurse, enter a school of philanthropy and
then become a district worker among the poor. Her father will not
listen to the plan, her aunt opposes it, her brother laughs at it.
She says that now since all her most earnest desires can never be
fulfilled she doesn't care about anything. It was a long time before the
teacher of the Bible class of which she was a member could believe that
this indifferent girl whose silence had annoyed her each Sunday was
longing to serve her fellowmen and had lost heart because the way was
blocked. It was only when she had made a special and earnest attempt to
really know the girl that she learned the truth.
No one can act wisely in the dark, and before passing judgment upon the
indifferent girl who may try one's soul, he should know whether in the
thwarting of all her desires, the denial of the right to follow her
natural inclination for work and service, lies the explanation of her
indifference.
Many times the girl who _seems_ indifferent, is so only on the outside.
She has developed more as a boy develops and does not wish to reveal her
best self, nor even in the least degree her deeper feelings. She hides.
When things are very serious or pathetic she sometimes laughs half
nervously. She looks out of the window, at the ceiling, whispers to her
neighbor or assumes the most disinterested, superior air possible if she
is at all impressed. When one sees her alone, it is a great surprise to
discover a new girl who is by no means indifferent, who has thoughts and
can express them when other girls are not there to listen. Her
indifference is not a serious matter, is usually of short duration and
is explained by the attitude of self-sufficiency which manifests itself
in the teens.
The girl really indifferent to _everything_, unless she be ill, does not
exist. There is a point of contact, a line of interest. The girl
indifferent to religion, to the work of the church, to her studies, may
be keenly alive to the call of other things--her friends, plans for her
future, all lines of social life. Last summer I met a girl of seventeen,
indifferent to all interests save nature study. She had failed in the
languages, was defeated by mathematics, but could sit hours in the woods
waiting for a tiny bird, or a squirrel to pose for her. She had made
some remarkable photographs and tinted them beautifully.
The usual social interests of the girls of her age bored her. Her mother
stated to sympathetic friends that the girl was hopeless, indifferent to
every plan for her future. The girl in turn said half defiantly, that
she did not care, and it made no difference to her what people thought
of her. It would have been so easy had the right guidance been given, to
help the girl see the great need a real naturalist would one day feel
for the languages, to show her that she had some social duties and to
let them be as few as possible, giving her every opportunity to develop
her special talents and interests. But the wise guiding hand was not
present and so the girl grew hard, indifferent, and created an
atmosphere of constant friction.
Into a night court in one of the cities there was brought an exceedingly
pretty girl just out of her teens. She seemed wholly indifferent to any
moral appeal and conscience was evidently dead. She would make no
promises for future good-behavior, she showed no evidence of shame. She
was unmoved by the matron's words of appeal. When she found that she was
to be detained through the day she begged the woman probation officer
to go with her to her home saying that her mother was ill and she feared
the result if she did not return as usual. With a great desire to
befriend the girl the officer went. She found a sweet pale-faced woman
suffering from incurable heart trouble, a bright beautiful girl of
sixteen who was taking the business course in the high school and a
ten-year-old boy. The flat was airy, neatly furnished and seemed a very
happy home. The girl told her mother that she had had breakfast and must
be away that day on business but would return for supper. The love of
that mother for the daughter who bade her good-by so tenderly, the
evident affection of the younger sister and the admiration of the boy
greatly impressed the officer.
The girl walked in silence back to the station, then she broke down.
"Now, you see why I chose the street to make a living," she said. "We
used father's life insurance and mother had to have things. She will not
live a month now, the doctor says. My sister can soon earn her own
living and I can help Fred until he is old enough to help himself, by
working in my old position. But for a while I _must_ have money! I hate
myself, you understand, but I had to have the money. Oh, mother,
mother, it is the last thing you would have me do, but I did it for you
and the children," she sobbed. This was the hard, indifferent girl who
didn't care for anything. The matron and officer looking at the sobbing
girl recorded one more tragedy upon the annals of their experience and
set about helping one more girl back into the straight way.
In how many types we find her, the indifferent girl and the girl who
does not care, and for what varied reasons indifference and the don't
care spirit have fallen upon her. Whatever the cause of her indifference
she is a problem. One of the High School girls in a group discussing
another girl put it quite forcefully when she said, "Yes, I'd like to
help Alice, but she doesn't want to be helped. She just doesn't care
about anything. If you don't invite her she doesn't seem to mind, if you
do she doesn't care whether she goes or not. I'd rather die than not
care about _anything_." "Such people are so uncomfortable to have
around, I'd rather have a girl who gets mad," was the opinion of another
in the group. Young people feel naturally that there is something
vitally wrong about the girl who has no enthusiasm, whom all the
interesting life of every day fails to arouse. And there _is_ something
wrong. The problem facing those who have to do with the indifferent,
don't care girl is to find _what is wrong_. Indifference is merely a
symptom--there is always a cause. One may discover if he will the things
to which the girl is _not_ indifferent, her real interests. Knowing
these, he sees the door through which he must go to awaken other
interests. Sympathy and friendship are the foes of indifference. If one
"feels with" the girl who does not care, he may help to awaken her
interests. Friendship can discover causes which nothing else can find.
But there is one word which must be stricken from the vocabulary of
parents, teachers and friends, who hope to awaken the indifferent girl.
It is the word _hopelessly. Hopelessly_ dull, _hopelessly_ bad,
_hopelessly indifferent_! Experience teaches that these must go. No
teacher has a hopeless pupil, no mother has a hopeless daughter. One may
regard the indifferent girl as a difficult problem but never a hopeless
one. Behind the indifference and the don't-care is the _real girl_ and
one must with patience and sympathy find _her_.
VII
THE GIRL WHO WORSHIPS THE TWIN IDOLS
The twin idols that accept with all the complacency of an ancient Buddha
the devotion of more worshipers than any church or creed can claim are
Fashion and Pleasure. Not sane fashion which helps make men and women
attractive and clothes them with neatness and care, protects them by
courtesies, and shields them by conventionalities, but _mad_ fashion.
Not real pleasure that fills eye with delight and days with happiness
that will be remembered even when one is old and days are dark and hard
but _mad_ pleasure, the thief and robber.
What costly sacrifices are offered every hour of the day and night to
the twin idols. When men and women away back in the dim past laid their
children in the hands of Baal they made their weird music, sang their
wild songs and shouted aloud that they might drown the appeal of the
sacrifice. The dark ages have passed. It is the enlightened age--and yet
with music and shoutings, weird dancings and songs men and women today
drown the appeal of the costly sacrifice laid on the altar before
Fashion and Pleasure.
[Illustration: SHE WORSHIPS PLEASURE AND FASHION]