child, as soon as he is old enough, wants the opportunity to work
with materials and tools. The youngest children can have beads to
string, mosaic blocks with which patterns can be made, etc. For the
older children you can get materials for sewing, painting, parquetry
work, and the like. There are boxes containing wooden and iron
construction strips out of which bridges, houses, airships, and all
sorts of exciting things can be made.
For the growing boy nothing is more appropriate than some carpentry
tools of his own. Here again we must remember that it is better to
buy a few good tools and gradually build up an equipment than to buy
a set that looks well enough in the store, but goes to pieces under
real usage.
A printing-press or well-constructed toy typewriter, a camera or
scroll saw, will afford hours of helpful amusement and instruction.
Musical instruments are always acceptable. The metalophone is one of
the simplest from which you can get real music. The cheapest is just
as usable as the more expensive, although, of course, it does not
have so wide a range of notes.
It is impossible to enumerate all the indoor group games that are
offered, but in selecting a game you must make sure that it really
has some sense in it, and that it does not stimulate the gambling
spirit, as do so many of the games with dice or a spinning wheel as
a part of the equipment.
All toys that encourage healthy outdoor sports are worth while. A
great deal of the progress in toy-making has been along mechanical
lines, until we are confronted with the most intricate mechanical
contrivances. They are interesting at an exhibition, and most likely
the child will be attracted by them and will want them, but only to
look at and own. He will tire of them much more quickly than he
would of the simple, usable toy. In this respect the children of the
rich are to be pitied. They are overloaded with these expensive,
mechanical toys which overstimulate them at first and later bore
them. The educative value of simple games with sticks and stones, or
anything the child may happen to pick up, is far greater and calls
for more exercise of imagination and ingenuity and the other
qualities we desire to foster than is that of the elaborate
mechanical toys.
It would be very desirable if all the skill and enterprise that is
devoted to the development of the toy industry were applied to
making toys simpler, more durable, and cheaper, instead of making
them more elaborate, more realistic, and more flimsy. However, the
desirable kinds of toys will not be manufactured in larger
quantities until an enlightened parenthood both demands them and
refuses to buy the glittering heart-breakers that look so charming
in the shop, but go to pieces in the child's hands.
It is far better to have fewer and better toys than more of an
inferior quality. The thing to keep in mind is that a toy is neither
an artistic model, an aesthetic ornament, nor a mechanical
spectacle, but should be a stimulus to call forth self-activity,
invention, ingenuity, imagination, and skill.
X.
CHILDREN'S GANGS, CLUBS, AND FRIENDSHIPS
"What a plague boys are!" sighed Mrs. Brown. "That White boy has
been getting our Harry into all sorts of mischief, and I can't make
Harry give up that gang."
Mrs. Green agreed that boys were a plague. Her Jack went with a lot
of boys, too, and they were always up to some sort of tricks which
she was quite sure _her_ boy would never do if it were not for
those other boys. And Mrs. Green was right. Any boy will do things
when he is with the gang that he never would think of doing alone--
and that he wouldn't dare to do alone, if he did think of them. Even
your boy--and mine, too, I hope. That's the way of boys.
What we mothers will have to do is to stop fretting about the other
boys in the gang who spoil our boys, and about the mischief and
noise and dirty boots and staying away late for meals, and get down
to a practical way of making all the boys in the gang as we find
them into a lot of decent young men. We shall have to stop trying to
make boys do what it is impossible for them to do; and we shall have
to stop trying to keep the boys from doing what it is absolutely
necessary that they should do, if they are to develop into the
decent young men we have in mind.
The modern way, the efficient way, of treating children is to find
out their instincts and then use these almost irresistible forces of
nature as a means of directing their development. And that is what
we shall have to do with the boy and his gang, and that is what we
shall have to do with the girl and her set. The boy is a more
serious problem because, under the promptings of his instincts, he
soon becomes indifferent to the attractions and amusements of the
home and seeks the companionship of boys of his own age, and he
seeks activities that cannot, for the most part, be carried on in
the home. The girl, on the other hand, remains much longer subject
to the will of her mother and to the conventions and standards of
the home; she remains for a longer period satisfied with the kinds
of activities that can be carried on at home.
We have been told over and over again that the instincts of
childhood are all for activity, and a few of us have trained
ourselves not to expect the children to _be still_ all the
time. Of course, there are times when we simply must have them be
still, and, of course, we allow the teachers to insist upon the
children being still in school. But we recognize that they must play
and romp and run and shout, and we are willing even to spend public
funds for playgrounds. This shows that we can learn, and that we can
make use of our knowledge. It is necessary only that we extend our
knowledge of the instincts of our children just as fast as we can
make use of more.
Up to the age of about ten, boys are apparently satisfied to play
games by themselves, or to play with others in ways that let each
look out pretty much for himself. At this age, however, a change
begins to appear. Now the boy tends to associate himself with others
of the same age, and before you know it your son "belongs" to some
"gang." Every street in a town and every corner in a city has its
gang. And if your boy has red blood and hard grit in him, he is a
member of one of these gangs. He can't help it. He does not join
because it is the fashion, or because he is afraid to keep out, or
because he has social ambitions. He joins because it is his instinct
to join with others in carrying on the activities to which other
instincts drive him. If you stand in the way of the gang, you are
fighting against one of the strongest forces in human nature.
Now if you feel the way Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Green felt about the
gangs, I do not blame you. But you must not stop there. Let's try to
find out first what the gang means to the boys and what it means to
the race. When a boy joins a gang, he does not discard his instinct
for play or for running and shouting. He simply takes on a new
relation to the world about him. As a member of the gang, he still
runs and plays and shouts; but now he has become conscious of his
place in the world, and that place is with his fellow-members,
surrounded by all sorts of enemies and dangers and obstacles to his
well-being. In his gang he finds comfort and support for his
struggle with the outside world. Here he finds opportunity for
satisfying exchange of thought; here he finds sympathy and
understanding such as he can get nowhere else.
The gang, without a written code in most cases, without formal
rules, without very definite aims, even, nevertheless has a moral
scheme of its own that every boy understands and lives up to as
earnestly and as devotedly as ever man followed the dictates of
conscience. The gang demands of the boy unfailing loyalty, and--what
is more--it usually gets it. Of how many other institutions or
organizations can as much be said? The gang demands fair play and
fidelity among its members, and it usually gets these. The gang
demands devotion and self-sacrifice of its members, and the boy who
cannot show these qualities becomes more effectually ostracized than
any defaulting bank official or corrupt politician. These fine
virtues, then--loyalty, honor, devotion--are cultivated by the gang
just at the time when the instincts for them are strongest, and at a
time when no other agency is prepared to do the work.
For you will realize, when you once think of it, how much we coddle
the baby when he is cute, how we shower him with toys far in excess
of what he can use or enjoy, how we fuss and fondle him, and how
much thought we give to every possible and impossible want; and how,
on the other hand, we neglect the boy when he enters upon that most
unattractive, but very critical, age in which he finds other boys
more interesting than his sister and her dolls, when he cares more
for other boys than he does for his mother and her parlor, when he
thinks more of the "fellers" than he does of his teacher and her
lessons. Just at this time, when the boy is beginning to wonder
vaguely and to long just as indefinitely, we abandon him to his own
resources and to Mrs. White's Bob, the leader of the gang.
The problem that confronts us is: How can we save and strengthen the
fine qualities which this spontaneous association with other boys
produces without encouraging the lawlessness and the destructiveness
and the secretiveness of the gang? First of all, we mothers must
recognize not only that the boy cannot be happy without his
associates, but also that the social virtues will never be developed
in him at all if we keep him at home away from the others or
restricted to one or two play-mates--which we may like to select for
him. Then, when this is perfectly clear to us, we will take the next
step, which will be to use all the resources of the homes and of the
community to change the antisocial gang into a club. The difference
between a gang and a _club_ is not a matter of clean clothes
and "nice" manners. It is a difference in mental attitude. The gang
has rules and it has power. The club has put its rules into form and
it _knows_ what it can do and what it wants to do. In other
words, the gang is a casual, random group that drifts about in the
village or in the city, subject to every passing influence, whereas
the club is a deliberate, purposeful organization with definite aims
and developments. Both meet the needs of the growing boy for
association; both give the social instincts and virtues suitable
opportunity for exercise.
This problem of giving the boys a chance to get together and do what
their instincts drive them to do is not one merely for the mothers who
can provide for their boys little or no supervision, and whose boys
play in the streets and vacant lots. The problem is just as great in
the case of the well-to-do, who provide constant supervision for their
children. Indeed, it is a serious question whether the condition of
the children of wealthier families is not in this respect more
dangerous than that of the less wealthy. With the boys of the street
the problem is how to divert the activities into suitable channels;
with the closely-guarded boys of the wealthy the problem is how to
develop the spirit of loyalty and self-sacrifice and honor, which have
been suppressed by the restricted and artificial associations of the
solicitous home. Both kinds of boys must be left free to form their
own associations, but the groups must be so directed in their club
activities (without, however, suspecting that they are being directed)
as to connect their interests with lawful amusements, civic needs, and
social relations. The great danger is that when adults take a hand in
these matters they fix their attention upon the civic and moral
virtues and overlook the instincts of activity and sociability which
call the gang into being, and the club degenerates into a preachy
Sunday- school class.
[Illustration: The boys need a chance to get together.]
In organizing clubs, or rather in presenting opportunities for the
organization of clubs, we must recognize that bodily activity,
taking the form of athletics, or of workshop effort, or of camping,
hunting, etc., is a fundamental condition of healthy growth for the
boys and girls. As every group must have its meeting place, this
should be first provided, and it should be of a nature that allows
gymnastics and hammering and boxing to go on without any
restrictions beyond those required by the nature of the little
animals. That is, there is need for sleep and rest and meals--and
perhaps certain definite hours for school and church--but beyond
such disagreeable though necessary interruptions the meeting place
of the club should be a busy place at all decent hours. We are
tempted to force literature and debating upon our clubs; these
things usually come later, and appeal at best to but relatively few
boys. Literature and debating are good, but they can never take the
place of parallel bars and boxing gloves and hammer and saw.
We are also tempted to pick out the boys for the clubs that we are
interested in. This is a serious mistake. It is this sort of thing
that causes the failure of so many well-meaning attempts to redeem
the children of the "slums" or of the street. We must let the groups
form spontaneously; the boys' instincts are keener in detecting the
sneak and the coward and the traitor than yours are, and if the club
has the right start, the undesirable citizen will either adopt the
morals of the club or be squeezed out. And the right start is
chiefly a good meeting place. It is here that the church and the
school and the home can cooperate. In the larger cities the
settlement has pointed the way by carrying on practically all of the
work with children through the medium of clubs.
It is not necessary for every parent to furnish a suitable meeting
place; indeed, each club needs only one meeting place. But every
home can contribute something. If you have not the suitable garret
or barn or shed, you can supply the baseball outfit, or the Indian
clubs, or the work-bench, or some of the tools. You can lend your
homes for those not very frequent occasions when the boys are quite
satisfied to have a quiet evening of table games or theatricals, or
imitation camp-fire with chestnuts to roast and songs to sing. You
can make up lunch-baskets for fishing or tramping trips, or you can
sew tapes on the old pants for "uniforms."
It does not matter so much _what_ you do, so long as you do as
much as you can, and, above all, if you show an "interest." The bond
of sympathy and intimacy that comes from such an understanding and
from the hearty cooperation of the home with these natural instincts
of the children is an immense gain to the individual parent, as well
as to the individual child. Instead of friction and opposition of
forces, there results a cooperation of forces that all make for
good.
As for the community, the village or town that can provide meeting
places for all of its groups of young people, under the direction of
those who understand them and sympathize with them, with suitable
equipment for physical activities of all kinds, can make no better
investment of the money that such a venture would cost. For it is in
such association that the boys and girls learn to be members of a
group, and eventually of the larger group that includes us all. The
good citizen is the one who has developed the instincts of loyalty
and devotion and self-sacrifice and honor, and has directed them
toward the community. The bad citizen is the one in whom these
virtues were never developed, or one in whom these traits remain in
the gang stage.
In the attempts that have been made to direct the instincts of
children we have given the boys much more attention than the girls,
for the simple reason that the boys have given us more trouble.
Still, the girls should not be neglected. They are entitled to all
the advantages that can be derived from organized opportunity to
associate with one another and to develop the social virtues. They
should also have the opportunity for physical exercise and
development which the boy gets because he makes violent demand for
it, but which the girl needs just as much.
It has been found unwise to have mixed clubs of boys and girls in
the early years, and even later, when girls and boys could
profitably associate together, they like to have their separate
groups for special activities. For the strictly sociable times,
however, boys and girls may be brought together at any age.
Apart from the other advantages to be gained from the club, the girl
or boy will be saved from his friends. There is a real danger that
children who do not get into larger groups will take up with a
single chum or intimate. While it is true that many lasting and
valued friendships start in these early years, the danger is
nevertheless a serious one. Chums or intimates, in their tendency to
get away from other people, may do nothing worse than carry on silly
conversations; but they may also read pernicious literature and
develop bad habits. Activities in a group are more open and less
likely to be of a secret nature.
Intimacies at this early age will spring up for all kinds of
superficial reasons. In a study made some years ago these were some
of the reasons given for the formation of friendships: "We were
cousins," "He taught me to swim," "We had the same birthday," "She
had a red apron," "Her brown eyes and hair," "Neither of us had a
sister." A large proportion of the children who were questioned gave
as the only reason for their intimate friendship the fact that they
"live near each other." However absurd these reasons may appear to
us, we are compelled by what we know of the child's mind to respect
these attachments. But if there is any danger in the intimacy--and
there often is--the only remedy is encouragement of association in a
large group. "There is safety in numbers."
So, whether we are more concerned with the mischief done by the
gang, or with the danger of intimate chums, whether we care more for
the development of good citizenship in boys and girls, or merely to
make the children happy while they are growing up, it is necessary
for parents to use all the means at their disposal to organize and
encourage the social activities of the young people to the fullest
extent.
XI.
CHILDREN'S IDEALS AND AMBITIONS
When you take pains to instruct your children in the way they should
go, it is because you have in mind certain standards of what a child
should do, or of what kind of an adult you wish your child to
become. In other words, you look to your ideals to guide you in the
training of the child. We all appreciate more or less vaguely the
importance of ideals in shaping character, and for this reason we
value ideals, although it is considered smart for adults to sneer at
ideals and idealism--which are supposed somehow to be opposed to the
"practical" affairs of life. But in a way there is nothing more
truly practical than a worthy ideal.
Where there is no vision the people perish; and that is just as true
of the individual as it is of a nation. Moreover, it is the
_youth_ who shall see the visions and draw from them the
inspiration for higher and better things. Fortunately, every normal
child develops ideals. It is for more experienced people to provide
the opportunities for the formation of desirable ideals, to guide
the ideals after they are formed into practicable channels, to use
the ideals to reinforce the will in carrying out our practical
purposes in the training of the child.
You no doubt find it easy enough to recognize and to encourage
ideals that are in harmony with your own, or that seem to you worthy
and likely to have a favorable influence upon your child's career or
character. When five-year-old Freddy says that he wants to become a
lawyer or a doctor, you encourage him. You say, "That's fine, my
boy," and in your mind's eye you see him climbing to fame and
fortune. But when Freddy says that he wants to be a policeman and
marry the candy-lady, you laugh at him, and you certainly do
_not_ encourage him. But in Freddy's mind doctor and lawyer
mean no more than policeman; they involve no more important social
service, they mean no more dignity in personal position, they
suggest nothing more of anything that is worth while. For whatever
it is that Freddy wants to be at any moment is to him the sum of all
that is to him worth while--and that is just what an ideal ought to
be.
This is not a plea to cruel parents in behalf of smoothing Freddy's
path toward the coveted post--or the course of his courtship of the
candy-lady's daughter. It is simply an effort to point out how
important it is to avoid shattering early in life that precious
mirror in which alone visions are to be seen. When you have
ridiculed the policeman out of further consideration, you are likely
with the same act to have weakened Freddy's faith in ideals--and to
this extent you have loosened one of the safest props of his
character. We need not be afraid of the crude and short-sighted
ideals of the young child. With the growth of his experience his
ideals will expand. We should fear rather to infect him with the
vulgar disrespect for all ideals.
In a few years Freddy has his heart set on charting the blank spaces
on his geography map, and he has never a thought for the girls. It
is the same Freddy, but he has in the meanwhile roamed far from the
home neighborhood--in imagination--and has discovered new heroes and
new types of heroism. The policeman and the candy-lady are still at
their old posts, but Freddy ignores them because his ideals have
grown with his experience and his information, as well as with his
bodily growth and development.
Study of thousands of children in all parts of this country, in
England and in Germany, has shown that the young people begin to
form ideal images of what they consider desirable, or beautiful, or
right rather early in life. They form ideals of virtue as well as
ideals of happiness, and these ideals reflect their experiences and
their surroundings to a remarkable degree. Thus, there are
differences between the ideals formed by country children and those
formed by city children, between the ideals of poor children and
those of wealthy ones, between the ideals of English children and
those of American or German children. But, aside from all these
differences, it is found that the ideals vary with the sex of the
child, and also with the age, so that each child passes through a
series of stages marked by characteristic types of ideals.
As early as the age of nine years children have expressed themselves
as looking forward to "doing good" in the world, or to making
themselves "good." The age at which this impulse to service or to
personal perfection may take form must depend upon many things
besides the peculiar characteristics of the individual child.
Jessie's ideals concerning "being good" will be shaped by what she
hears and sees about her. If you speak frequently about the foreign
missions, she may think of being good as something that has to do
with the heathen. If the family conversation takes into
consideration the sick and the needy, Jessie's ideal may be dressed
like a Red Cross nurse. If you never speak of the larger problems of
community welfare, or of social needs, or of moral advance in the
home, where Robert has a chance to hear you, he can get suggestions
toward such ideals only after he has read enough to become
acquainted with these problems and the corresponding lines of
service for himself.