Part 3
"In later life," affirms the American psychopathologist, A. A. Brill, who has made a special study of the only child from both a medical and psychological point of view, "he is extremely conceited, jealous, and envious. He begrudges the happiness of friends and acquaintances, and he is therefore shunned and disliked." Besides which, speaking from wide experience as a practising specialist in New York City, Doctor Brill insists that the only child, at any age of life, is peculiarly liable to fall a victim to hysteria, neurasthenia, and other serious functional nervous and mental maladies; and his belief, as I happen to know from their personal statements to me, is shared by other observant neurologists and psychopathologists, such as Doctors James J. Putnam and I. H. Coriat, of Boston.
This is a point of special interest, for the reason that recent medical 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.