research has made it certain that the maladies in question are one and
all rooted in faulty habits of thought, usually resultant from errors
of training in childhood. Chief among these errors, according to all
modern neurologists, is an upbringing which tends to develop excessive
occupation with thoughts of self. But this is precisely the kind of
upbringing given the majority of "only children." Here again the Bohannon
investigation affords impressive evidence. One of the queries included in
the _questionnaire_ bore on the treatment accorded the only child when
at home, and it is indeed significant that in about 75 per cent. of the
replies received it was stated that the policy of the parents was one of
extreme indulgence.
"Had her own way in everything," "Her parents gratify her every whim,"
"She is surrounded by adults who indulge her too much," "Humoured,"
"Petted," "Coddled," are some of the expressions frequently employed
to describe the parental treatment. Many of the answers sent to Doctor
Bohannon also testify to an over-anxiety with respect to the child's
welfare that might easily give rise to undue feelings of self-importance
or to an unhealthy habit of introspection. "His mother was always unduly
anxious about him when he was out of her sight," "She is thought to be
quite delicate, and great care is taken of her; she is kept in a warm
room and seldom allowed to go out," "His home treatment has made a baby
of him," may fairly be cited as typical statements returned by Doctor
Bohannon's respondents.
Is it any wonder that the average only child grows up deficient in
initiative and self-reliance? Is it any wonder that, under the stress of
some sudden shock, he reacts badly, allowing himself to be overwhelmed
by it, even to the extent of perhaps becoming a neurasthenic wreck? In
short, can it be doubted that the handicap under which he too often has to
struggle painfully through life is not a handicap imposed by Nature but is
solely of his parents' making?
Sometimes this is all too clearly appreciated in later life by the child
himself, and the parental error is bitterly resented; or, if the sense of
filial piety be sufficiently strong, is splendidly excused. As in this
fragment from an autobiographical statement by an only child:
"Of the selfishness of which a frank woman accused me, my parents were, up
to that time, quite as unconscious as I. She had asked my mother to drive
with her to the home of a friend in a neighbouring town, where the two
were invited to spend the night. My mother declined, on the ground that I,
at that time about nine, could not comb my hair and pin my collar properly
for school in the morning; and as we then had no maid and my father could
at best only have buttoned my frock, the objection seemed insurmountable.
But the family friend called me by the ugly title of naughty, selfish
little girl, and chided mother for allowing me to monopolise her time,
contending that she was making me selfish and dependent.
"Perhaps she was. But I protest that it could hardly have been otherwise,
considering that she had in full measure the world-old desire of mothers
to spend themselves for their children, and only one child to spend
herself on. It had not occurred to my mother, I am confident, that her
habit of ministering to me constantly was pampering; nor had I, in going
to her for services that I might easily have learned to perform for
myself, made demands in the manner of the arrogant spoiled child."[4]
The compelling power of mother-love and father-love must, of a truth,
be recognised in extenuation of the spoiling of the only child. But the
fact of the spoiling remains, and the fact also that when the spoiling
is achieved the parental pride and joy will be turned to grief and bitter
lamentation. The pity of it is that the only child, simply because he is
the only child, ought to be able to grow up healthier, wiser, and more
efficient than other children.
For, as psychologists are insisting more and more emphatically, the
health, happiness, and efficiency of adult life depend preponderantly on
the home influences of early childhood; and, obviously, in a home where
the parental attention can be concentrated on a single child, better
results should be attained than when the work of training involves a
division of the attention among several children. Unhappily, when it is
a question of training an only child, too many parents seem to take it
for granted that training is entirely unnecessary, that their child is
innately so good that he will develop of his own accord into one of the
best of men.
In reality, as modern psychology has made very clear, every child at the
outset of his life is much like every other child, a plastic, unmoral
little creature, exceedingly impulsive and exceedingly receptive, readily
impressed for good or evil by the influences that surround him. Childhood,
to repeat a truism hackneyed to psychologists, but seemingly unappreciated
by most people, is pre-eminently the suggestible period of life. It is
then, when the critical faculty still is undeveloped, that whatever ideas
are presented to the mind are most surely absorbed by it, to sink into
its subconscious depths, and there form the nucleus for whole systems of
thought afterward manifesting as habits. Herein lurks the special peril to
the only child afflicted with over-loving, over-anxious parents.
Their perpetual solicitude for him, acting as a suggestion of irresistible
force, tends to engender in him a mental attitude out of which may
afterward spring, according to the subsequent circumstances of his life,
a cold, heartless, calculating selfishness, or a morbid self-anxiety,
perhaps eventuating in all sorts of neurotic symptoms. If, as a boy, he
is too closely and constantly associated with his mother, the force of
suggestion again, acting largely through the imitative instinct, may lead
to a development of those feminine traits frequently characteristic of
male only children, and often involving pathological conditions of dire
social as well as individual significance. Further still, by restricting
unduly the intercourse of only children with playmates of their own age,
as is often done, one of the finest agencies in development through the
power of suggestion is left unutilised. There is a world of truth in the
lament of the only child from whose autobiography I have already quoted:
"All this carefulness kept me uncontaminated by the naughtiness of
little street Arabs, but it also limited my opportunity to imitate
where imitation is easiest--among those of my own age; it stunted the
initiativeness and inventiveness that might, in normal conditions, have
developed in me; and it left me lacking in adaptability. I sometimes
disloyally wonder if my chances of being a tolerable citizen might not
have been as good if I had been permitted to 'run wild,' and thus secure
for myself the companionship I could not have at home."
Of course, association with other children means at least an occasional
hard knock, and hard knocks are, above all else, what the doting mother
wishes to avoid for her darling boy. She forgets that they are certain
to be experienced, soon or late, and that the earlier her boy is fitted
to withstand them the better they will be withstood. She forgets, too,
that if the suggestions emanating from playmates are not invariably
suggestions for good, they may easily be counteracted, without sacrificing
the advantages to be gained from association with playmates, by proper
training in the quiet of the home.
Always, let me repeat, it is the home training that counts for most. If
the only child turns out well, the credit must go to the parents; if,
alas! he turns out badly, if he becomes a monster of selfishness or a
neurotic weakling, the blame must likewise be theirs.
And now it becomes necessary to add that, if in less degree, the
"favourite child" in a family is exposed to dangers similar to those
menacing the unwisely brought up "only child." That parent of several
children is making a sad mistake if he singles out any one of his children
for special affection and solicitude. The consequences of such favouritism
are twofold, affecting adversely, perhaps disastrously, both the child
unduly favoured and the child or children comparatively slighted. So far
as the former is concerned, the outcome, when the favouritism involves
really excessive love and anxiety, is pretty sure to be much like that
in the case of the average only child. That is to say, there is always
more than a possibility that the favourite child, no matter how good his
inherited qualities, will grow up arrogant, self-centred, and neurotic.
He is usually in less danger than the only child of growing up deficient
in initiative and social adaptability. For, unless his parents constantly
interfere in his behalf, daily intercourse with his brothers and
sisters is bound to impress on him at an early age the necessity for
developing self-reliance and for making concessions to the rights
and susceptibilities of others. On the other hand, because he is the
favourite child and because his brothers and sisters instinctively resent
this, his intercourse with them is likely to be attended with more than
the usual amount of friction. Thereby an additional stress will be put
on a nervous system already more or less strained by the fussing and
fretting of indulgent, unthinking parents. During childhood, it is true,
he may not give marked evidence of neural enfeeblement. But, soon or
late, if a kindly fortune does not rescue him at an early age from the
harmful home environment--as, for example, by his removal to a good
boarding-school--one may count on his displaying striking eccentricities
of character and conduct, if not positively pathological conditions.
Consequently, his whole prospects for adult life will be adversely
affected. The selfishness fostered by his father's, or mother's, excessive
devotion may become intensified rather than lessened by friction with
envious brothers and sisters, with the result that the favourite child
passes into manhood abnormally deficient in altruistic qualities, and even
abnormally misanthropic. "A favourite son, a bachelor of sixty-two years,
who was a wealthy retired merchant," notes the psychopathologist Brill,
"told me that whenever there was a rise in the market he suffered from
severe depression and fits of envy, simply because he knew that some of
his friends would make money. He himself had no interest in the market."
And, speaking as an observer who has closely studied the subject, Doctor
Brill unhesitatingly adds that, like so many "only children," almost all
favourite children are in later years "selfish, unhappy, and morose."
It is true there are notable exceptions. Some favourite children are
brought up so well that, aside perhaps from a tendency to nervous
ailments, they display no peculiarities and pass through life creditably,
possibly brilliantly. But such exceptions are conspicuous by their
rarity, for the excellent reason that parents who are wise enough to rear
favourite children well are commonly wise enough not to show favouritism
to any of their children.
For, no matter, how much the favourite child may benefit from the extra
care bestowed on him, the mere fact that he is thus selected for special
attention is sure to work to the detriment of the other children in the
family. When, as often happens, there is only one other child, the effect
on that child may be catastrophic. When the favourite child has several
brothers and sisters there is less danger that any of these will be
really disastrously affected. At best, however, they will chafe under the
injustice of the favouritism shown by the parent or parents; and, besides
instinctively drawing together for mutual consolation and defence, they
may develop a spirit of rebellion destructive to the peace and well-being
of the entire family.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: Doctor Bohannon's report ought to be carefully read by
the parents of every "only child." It is published in _The Pedagogical
Seminary_, vol. v, p. 475 _et seq._]
[Footnote 4: _Everybody's Magazine_, vol. xv, p. 693.]
THE CHILD WHO SULKS
III
THE CHILD WHO SULKS
Nobody likes a chronically sulky child. Even his own parents are apt to
lose patience with him. In common with outsiders, though in less degree,
they regard his sulkiness as indicative of an unpleasant disposition,
calling for stern disciplinary measures. Seldom do they see it for what it
really is--the result of conditions for which the child is not to blame,
and a danger-signal giving warning that unless a successful effort is made
to ascertain and correct the sulk-producing conditions, the child will
enter adult life under a tremendous handicap.
As I write, there comes before my mind's eye the weary face and form of
an old acquaintance, with whose life history I am familiar. This man,
though not yet in his forties, and with health unbroken by any serious
disease, is nevertheless one of the unemployable. He is willing enough to
work, he affirms, and in his time has had many positions. But he has been
able to hold none of these. There has always developed friction between
him and his employer or between him and fellow-employees. For a few days,
perhaps a few weeks, after gaining a new position, things go smoothly
with him. He is confident, even enthusiastic. Then, for no apparent
reasons, he acquires a "grouch." He conceives the idea that his "job" is
not sufficiently remunerative, or that he is not being treated with due
respect. Sometimes he gives vent to his feelings in words that promptly
effect his dismissal. More often, giving no explanation, he sullenly stops
work of his own accord.
Yet he began life with seemingly excellent prospects. His parents were
well to do and could give him every educational advantage. And in early
childhood he was both a bright boy and a well-behaved boy. A little
later, when he began to go to school, there was a noticeable change
in his disposition. His parents learned that he did not associate with
other boys as readily as might be desired. They noticed that he developed
a tendency to keep much by himself, to be uncommunicative, to smile
seldom--in fine, to sulk. But, though they noticed this, they fancied it
was only a passing phase which he would in time outgrow. They failed to
take his sulkiness seriously--failed, that is to say, to recognise in it
a sign that something was amiss which should be seriously investigated.
To-day, perhaps wholly because no investigation was made and no corrective
treatment attempted, this unfortunate man is finding life a heavy burden.
With all the emphasis at my command I would say, When a child frequently
sulks, it is _always_ a sure indication of mental or nervous stress.
If parents have a child who is sulky, they should neither ignore the
sulkiness nor accuse him of wilful naughtiness and try to improve him
by scoldings and punishments. They should recognise, in his habit of
sulking, evidence of one of two things: either that they are not bringing
him up as they should, or that he is suffering from some unsuspected
physical disability, of which his sullen, morose, peevish disposition is
symptomatic. It may be that this disability is an irremediable one, such
as organic weakness of the brain. But the chances are that it is caused
by functional disturbances easily discovered and easily cured. The parent
is neglecting his full duty to his child if he fail to inquire into the
child's physical condition.
One of the commonest causes of sulkiness is nothing more or less than
indigestion. Everybody knows that if a baby's food disagrees with him
the baby is pretty sure to be fretful and irritable. But parents too
often forget that, in the case of older children, mental and moral
eccentricities may be traced to the same cause. When food is not properly
digested, there is an impoverishing and poisoning of the blood. This
means that the brain is poorly nourished, and a poorly nourished brain
means a general weakening of the power to think and to will. It means,
too, a heightening of nervous irritability, coupled with a tendency to
take a gloomy view of life. Under these circumstances, it is not at
all surprising to find sulkiness becoming characteristic of a child of
any age, as in a typical case reported by Doctor T. A. Williams, of
Washington, a specialist in the treatment of the nervous diseases of
children.
Doctor Williams' patient was a ten-year-old girl, the daughter of a
clergyman. She had been lovingly reared, and until the age of nine had
been easy to manage, vivacious, and happy. Then there came a marked change
in her behaviour. She became easily irritated, had frequent crying spells,
and frequent fits of sulkiness. Besides this, she had difficulty in
studying. Thinking that she had been overworking, her parents took her out
of school, although her mother noticed that she was less inclined to sulk
when kept busy.
What Doctor Williams found, after a long and careful examination of the
girl and questioning of her parents, was unmistakable evidence of nerve
deficiency, due chiefly to faulty diet, and aggravated by "parental
interference, well meant, but entirely injudicious." She had been eating
oatmeal and meat to excess, had been taking her principal meal at night,
and had gone to bed soon after it. Doctor Williams ordered that her
allowance of meat and oatmeal be cut down, that she eat her principal meal
at noon, and that she stay up for at least an hour after her evening meal.
Further, he gave these directions:
"On waking in the morning, the child must make a practice of getting up
at once, instead of ruminating in bed. Parents must avoid criticising her
about trifles, and her behaviour must be left to take care of itself at
present. Her affections should be indulged and reciprocated. She must be
given plenty to do and sent back to school in a few days."
Under this treatment the girl's disposition began immediately to improve.
Within two weeks her mother reported to Doctor Williams that she was as
"happy and joyous" as she had formerly been. No longer was her stomach
being loaded with food it could not digest; and with the removal of this
source of toxic irritation, together with the suggested changes in her
parents' handling of her, she had become a different child.
On the other hand, underfeeding may be, and often is, a cause of
sulkiness, owing to the inadequate nourishment the underfed child's
brain receives and the general weakness of his system. Sulkiness, again,
may be associated with an insufficiency of physical exercise, or with
failure to make sure that the child's living and sleeping quarters are
properly ventilated. Fresh air is as essential as digestible food to the
maintenance of nervous balance. When, as sometimes happens, children are
obliged to spend their school hours in dusty, ill-ventilated classrooms,
when they return to homes with few windows, and these seldom open, and
when they sleep in a tainted, vitiated atmosphere, it is indeed hard for
them to see life in bright colours. Besides which, to prevent or cure
sulkiness in a child, it is not enough to keep school and home well
ventilated, and let the child play outdoors as much as possible. It is
necessary also to see to it that the child is so conditioned that he will
have no difficulty in adequately breathing the fresh outdoor air.
To a physician in a Western city there was brought a boy, nine years old,
with a face so flat, expressionless, and frog-like, that persons who knew
him thought he was feeble-minded. His school teacher reported that his
mind seemed a blank and that he was also hard of hearing. His parents
complained that he was selfish and sullen. The boy seemed doomed to a life
of misery.
But, making a physical examination of him, the doctor found reason to
think otherwise. He discovered no real brain defect. In the cavity back
of the boy's nose he found an abnormal growth of adenoid-tissue that of
itself might account for the boy's stupidity and sulky disposition, as
well as for his deafness. The diseased tissue acted as an irritant and a
drag on his nervous energy; and, in addition, by interfering with the
intake of oxygen it lowered the nutrition of the brain.
The adenoid growth was removed. Gradually the appearance of the
unfortunate boy's face changed for the better. His hearing improved. He
began to take an interest in school work, and studied to real advantage.
Consideration for others took the place of his habitual selfishness, and
he sulked no more.
Adenoids, dullness, deafness, and sullenness often are intimately
associated. The parents of a sulky child will therefore do well to
ascertain whether adenoid trouble is present. Its presence is usually
plainly indicated by the flat, insipid appearance of the victim's face and
by his habit of breathing through his mouth, particularly when asleep.
If there is any reason to suspect adenoids, parents should take their
children to a competent physician without delay.
Further, and on general principles, they should have their children's
teeth thoroughly examined by a good dentist. A child whose teeth are
decayed is a child suffering both from nerve irritation and from some
degree of poisoning, due to his swallowing food that has become infected
by its contact with the germs of dental caries. Such a child has abundant
reason to feel uncomfortable, pessimistic, and sullen. So has a child
whose teeth, if not decayed, are crowded together.
Yet another common, and often unsuspected, physical cause of sulkiness in
children is eye-strain. Most of us are under the impression that when a
person is afflicted with eye-strain he is certain to have painful or, at
least, unpleasant sensations in his eyes. This is by no means always the
case. During childhood and youth there may be no telltale eye symptoms at
all. But defective eyesight may give rise to various nervous conditions;
sulkiness is one manifestation.
An eight-year-old girl, previously in good health, and with no more
nervousness than is displayed by the average child, began to show traits
that worried her parents. She became difficult to control, querulous,
and sullen to an extent that bordered on melancholia. In addition,
she complained of indigestion and headache, symptoms which caused her
parents to take her to a physician for treatment. His medicines and the
course of diet he prescribed did her no good, and another physician was
consulted. Then began for this unfortunate little girl a weary round of
examinations by doctor after doctor. Every means of curing her headaches
and indigestion seemed unavailing, and her nervousness and sullenness
increased apace. Finally, one physician, in spite of the fact that the
girl's eyesight seemed normal, suggested that she be examined by an eye
specialist. Then, for the first time, it was discovered that she had a
serious ocular defect. According to Doctor Percy R. Wood, who reported
the case for the benefit of the medical profession in general, within six
months after she first put on spectacles the girl was entirely free from
digestive disturbances, her head had ceased to ache, and her melancholy
moroseness had given way to normal good nature.
Occasionally sulkiness results from some special form of nervous disease.
It may be an initial symptom of that strange malady of childhood, chorea.
A child affected with chorea is restless, uneasy, and weak in muscular
control. Muscles of the face twitch, the child has difficulty in using his
hands, and, in later stages of the disease, the arms and legs make random,
involuntary movements. In addition, just before or about the time the
muscular weakness begins, there are sometimes signs of mental disturbance,
described as follows by an authority on nervous diseases: