Supposing the boy is not to be directed at once into the enchanting
field of handcraft; supposing his mother has allowed him to run wild a
little too long or has not noticed that he was evincing signs of
lawlessness until the neighbors or teachers send home uncomplimentary
reports, what’s to be done? Try another tactic. See if you cannot
interest him in outdoor sports to a point where he reaches self-respect.
Baseball will do, a bat and a ball may help him to rouse the best that
is in your lad. Then let him help his father with chores, let him drive
the team to town, or sell a load of produce—nothing brings out a boy’s
incipient manhood like the thought that he is helping his “dad,” that he
can be depended upon, and held responsible for something really worth
while.
I know a fine boy of twelve, the son of a store-keeper in a small
Georgia town, who is raising hens. He has forty flourishing Wyandottes,
a couple of dozen Leghorns and as many Buff Cochins. He has built a
substantial hen house, and fenced in a part of the yard. Friends and
relatives became interested in his enterprise and gave him suggestions,
the benefit of their experience, until now he is a thriving chicken
farmer. Last summer, he sold on an average of five dozen eggs a day. We
were among his customers, and we paid him thirty cents a dozen, his
regular price, which means that the twelve-year-old made $1.50 a day, or
$10.50 a week. Besides earning a little money he was having a lot of
fun.
He had enough on his mind to keep him out of trouble, and enough on his
hands to work off the physical force that otherwise might have gone to
waste, making him an undesirable citizen.