Chapter XV: Freedom and Discipline (4)

We have learned from the results of these play activities with all kinds of children in the city and in the country, of rich and of poor, that the spirit of the game is not only capable of stimulating the growing boy and girl to a tremendous amount of exertion, but also of organizing his or her feelings and ideals into effective moral and social standards. And when the same spirit is applied to work, we can get the same valuable educative results, with the addition of a higher appreciation of work as work than usually comes from an early experience with doing necessary but disagreeable tasks. For example, in one city the shop work of classes of boys was organized on a cooperative basis. The boys worked in teams for the making of desks or cabinets. The results, as measured by finished product or by the quality of the workmanship, were far ahead of what the same instructors could get from the same boys when the attempt was made to stimulate the workers by means of prizes and individual rewards. Children can learn to work together as well as to play together. If you have noticed that two workers very often do half as much work in a given time as one worker, it is because they have not learned to work together--they have been denied the opportunity of learning this, and now take occasion, when they do get together, to do almost everything but work.

There are many opportunities in the ordinary household to teach girls and boys to do useful work in a spirit very similar to that which they put into their games. It may not be possible to make all the necessary work as interesting as games, but the remoter purpose of the work, whether it is to accomplish something whose need is recognized by the child, or the hope of some reward, should make for close attention to the task in hand. For example, after a certain age, sweeping and other household tasks lose their play interest; but if the girl has become skilful enough to do the sweeping without tiring, her recognition of the necessity of the work or her thought of what she wants to do when the task is accomplished should make it possible to get through with this work without a feeling of hardship. Some educators approve of allotting definite tasks to the girls and boys, and compensating them in definite amounts. This gives them not only a measure of the value of their service, but makes them feel the responsibility of each contributing toward the maintenance of the establishment. The main thing is that the children shall not look upon work as a cruel imposition; and to this end we should develop the spirit of helpfulness and cooperation--and to transfer this spirit, already developed in play, to the work that has to be accomplished.

One form of the expression of the play instinct has come lately to arouse a great deal of public interest, and that is the dance. Books have been written about the history of the dance, the esthetics of the dance, the technique of the dance, the symbolism of the dance, and many other aspects. What concerns the parent chiefly is to know that the dance is at once a healthful exercise, an important aid to social adjustment, and a valuable safety-valve for the emotions.

With the rapid growth of our cities we have come suddenly to realize that nearly half of the nation's children have no _place_ in which to play, since the open fields and vacant lots have been invaded by warehouses and factories and tenements. And so the playground movement has gained rapid headway. Playgrounds have been established, and placed in charge of competent and enthusiastic leaders, who are teaching the children something they never should have unlearned. But at the same time we are coming to realize that the children in the country and in small towns, although they have plenty of space, have not really had the opportunity to get the most out of their play activities. It would seem that even the instinct of play can be made to work to better purpose when it is intelligently directed. It is our duty, then, to provide not only play space and play time, but also play material and, where possible, play direction. It is our further duty to keep alive in ourselves, as far as possible, the spirit of play; for there is no one thing that will do so much to keep us young and in sympathy with our children as the ability to play as they play, and to play with them.

Excepting only the infant when playing with his fingers and toes, the child must play with some _person_ or with some _thing_. The selection of suitable toys becomes a more serious problem than is commonly realized, when we once recognize the great influence of play upon the child.

Stepping into the toy shop, we are confronted by a multitude of objects, the variety and quantity of which are distracting. Everything that the ingenuity of man could devise is here presented to our astonished eyes, and children gaze upon the great spectacle and are delighted. If we go to the store just to be amused or to buy _something_, a very indefinite something for a child of a certain age, we are quickly satisfied. But if we have in our mind some idea as to what is really good for the child who is to receive the gift, it is just as hard to find the right thing to-day in the immense, up-to-date toy store as in the little general store that "also keeps toys." The manufacture of toys has grown to a tremendous industry, but with no ideal behind it, no guiding educational principle. Toys are made to sell,--having fulfilled that function the manufacturer is not further concerned. Consequently, toys are made to attract the eye; durability, use, and need from the child's point of view are rarely considered.

In selecting toys we must not consider what would amuse or entertain its, but solely the child's need, and this need will differ at the various stages in his development.

For the little child who has no skill, we want to get toys that exercise the large muscles; he should have blocks that are large. It is a common mistake to suppose small toys are suitable for small children; within certain limits just the opposite is true.

Young children can also use toys that merely need to be manipulated without having much significance. Things that can be taken apart and put together are enjoyed and are very instructive.

A child should get from his toys a bare suggestion of the object, and not a lifelike representation that will be of interest to the critical adult. Refinement of finish and realistic representation are entirely wasted on the child. A massive wooden dog or bird is better than a furry or feathery one. It is enough of a dog or bird, so far as the child is concerned, and if it can stand rough handling, so much the better. For the little boy or girl an animal that can stand up or be drawn about by a string is quite satisfactory; but before the age of three years is reached the animal must have movable parts, so that it may be put into various positions, be made "to do things."

At about three years of age the child also comes more and more to see things in relation to each other and no longer as isolated objects. At this time, if he has a cow, he wants also a stable in which to keep her, the doll calls for a carriage and bed, and so on. This is something to keep in mind in planning our purchases.

Children like to reproduce in their plays the processes which they see going on around them or about which they hear. This is in a way their preparation for the activities of adult life. If the little boy or girl wants to play farm, or menagerie, or laundry, or grocery store, it is not necessary to buy the whole outfit at once. The child will probably not be ready for it, and if he gets more than he can comfortably use, he will be overwhelmed and many objects are likely to be neglected.

Let us say, for instance, that your little boy has received a milk-cart and horse for his birthday and he has exhausted the possibilities of play with them. Now here is Christmas, and you can give him or make him a nice, substantial barn and someone else can give him a cow. Immediately the possibilities for play are greatly multiplied. He can take the cow to pasture, bring her into the barn to be milked, take the milk to market and store away hay for the winter, and so on indefinitely. In time he can have a well-equipped barnyard, build pig-sties and chicken-coops with his blocks, and spend many happy and instructive hours. A great advantage in having toys grouped about some central idea is that several children can play at the same time and each particular toy stays in use much longer than it would otherwise.

I have spoken of your little boy as the manager of the toy farm, but in these days, when women are entering every profession, there is no reason to suppose that it is not your little girl who will need those things. Still, although we know that, in spite of traditions, little boys like to play with dolls and little girls like to play with other things, we shall, for the sake of convenience, stick to the traditions and discuss the little girl in connection with dolls.

There is nothing that will give your little daughter greater pleasure and at the same time be more instructive than an opportunity to run a whole doll house. By this I do not mean the elaborate constructions that are sold in the large shops under that name. No, a packing case, painted and divided into four parts, will serve the purpose far better. Gradually the different rooms can be furnished, and in the meantime there is plenty of fun and much development in trying to maintain the family of dolls under pioneer conditions, calling for all sorts of clever makeshifts.

There are numberless things that will go to make up the little girl's doll house, and her activities can be extended over the entire period during which she cares to play with dolls. At first she will be satisfied with handling her baby and putting her to sleep. Later she will want to dress and undress it. Before long she will have a whole family of dolls and will want to prepare their meals for them, sew and wash their clothes, and keep the house in order. These growing needs on her part are just as real as the needs adults feel, and it would be just as unwise to get her a new doll, when she needs most of all a wash-boiler for her kitchen, as it would be to buy for yourself a picture, when you really need a pair of new spectacles.

All the different articles needed for the running of the doll's house can now be bought separately. In buying the different articles, the things to keep in mind are usability, simplicity, and durability. The furniture that you buy or make must be able to serve the ostensible purpose of doll's furniture. It is better to get one chair that is of the right size for the doll, well proportioned and strong enough to stand the handling of the owner, than a whole set of "pretty" and flimsy and useless furniture that you can buy in a gay box for the same price.

Of course, it is understood that the principles of usability, simplicity, and durability apply to the dolls themselves. It is now easy to obtain dolls with indestructible heads and with jointed bodies made of durable material. The little baby will love the doll with a felt head. It can stand being loved hard without losing some of its features. To give a little girl a doll that is so finely dressed and so daintily constructed that she is permitted to come out of her box only on state occasions is a violation of every sound principle of child training and fair dealing.

I have mentioned, as examples of the kind of toys that can be bought singly and grouped about some central idea, the farm and the doll's house, but, of course, there are many other things--railroads with their equipment, dairies, stores of all kinds, etc.

Besides the toys that are related to various lines of activity, each 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.

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.

Answers received from hundreds of girls and boys would seem to show that virtue and goodness are desirable to children at a certain stage of their development chiefly, if not solely, because they bring material or social benefits. Virtue is rewarded not by any internal or spiritual satisfaction, but by freer access to the candy supply or to the skating pond. The right is that which is allowable, or that which may be practiced with impunity. The wrong is that which is forbidden or punishable. Of course, this attitude toward moral values should not continue through life. We should do what we can to establish higher ideals of right and wrong. How soon this change will come must depend very largely on where the emphasis is laid by those around the child. If, when you give Robert a piece of candy, you always impress him with the idea that this is his compensation for having been "good," he will retain this association between virtue and material reward long past the age when he can already appreciate the satisfaction that comes from exercising his instinct to be helpful, or from doing what he thinks is right. If, however, the idea in the home is that all goes well and all feel cheerful and happy because every one is trying to do the right thing, the various indulgences and liberties will mean to the child merely the material manifestations of the good feeling that prevails, and not rewards of virtue. So far as possible, rewards and punishments should be directed toward the _deed_ and not the child. The aim should be to make the child derive his highest satisfaction from carrying out his own ideals of conduct, rather than from the reward for that conduct. The approbation of those he honors and loves should gradually replace the material reward.

To the child the ideal of success may mean two entirely different things. At one stage it may mean the satisfaction of accomplishing a set task, whether selected by himself or imposed by some one else. Later, it comes to mean excelling some other child in a contest. Even a child of four or five years gets a great deal of satisfaction from contemplating a house he has built out of his blocks, or the row of mud pies. This satisfaction gradually comes to be something quite distinct from the pleasure of _doing_, and is an important element in the ideal of workmanship. As the child grows older the ideal of successful accomplishment grows stronger, and, if it is retained throughout life, it contributes a large share toward the individual's happiness.

Most of the school activities of our children lay too much emphasis upon the ideal of successful rivalry, and too little upon the ideal of high achievement. The ideal set before the children is not frequently enough that of doing the best that is in them, and too frequently that of doing merely better than the neighbor--which may be poor enough. Some of the work done with children in clubs, outside of schools, has brought out the instinct for an ideal of achievement in a very good way. Richard came home quite breathless when he was able to report that he could start a fire on a windy day, using but a single match! In some of the more modern organizations, for girls as well as for boys, graded tasks are assigned as tests of individual proficiency or prowess. Every girl and every boy must pass these standards, without regard to what the others do. The result of encouraging this ideal is likely to be an increased sense of responsibility, well as an increased self-respect; whereas the ideal of "beating" others may in many cases keep the girl or boy at a rather low level of achievement, compared to the child's own capacity.

This competitive ideal is illustrated by the girl who is ambitious to stand at the head of her class, and receives encouragement enough. But we give very little thought to the child whose ideals are for service to others or to the community. It is very often the same child that at one time glories in successful emulation under the encouragement of our approval, and that later fails to develop the germs of altruistic ideals because we fail to recognize, or at least to encourage, them. We cannot expect from the schools an early change of emphasis from the competitive type of ambition to the ideal of cooperation or service, although the teachers who have tried to encourage the latter have found the school work to proceed more satisfactorily than it does under the spirit of emulation. But in the home it should be much easier to encourage these higher types of ideals, for we do not have to set one child against the other, and there is greater opportunity for individual service on account of the greater differences in the ages and attainments of the children.

It is interesting and significant that, of the thousands of children who have given expression to their ideals and ambitions, a very small number--less than one in every hundred--have appeared to be quite content with themselves and with their surroundings. The normal child craves for some thing better, and roams as far afield as his knowledge and opportunities let him in his search for the best. It is during the years from the tenth to the fifteenth or sixteenth that this search is keenest, and during this period we should present to the children every opportunity for becoming acquainted with what has been considered best in the history of the race. The reading that the boy or girl does at this time is perhaps the most important source of ideals.

The selection of suitable books for the young is in itself an important problem, and one that many of us are apt to neglect. It is impossible to judge of the desirability or suitableness of a book from its appearance, or from its price, or from the standing of its publishers, or even from the repute of the author. Many attractive-looking books are not only worthless, but positively objectionable. If it is not possible for you to examine carefully each book that you consider buying, you should make use of an annotated list, or seek competent counsel in some other form. Through libraries and various associations it is now possible to obtain carefully prepared lists that will be helpful in selecting books for children of all ages.

An interesting point that has been brought out by studies is the fact that degrading ideals are practically wanting in children. You were no doubt shocked to discover that Eddy was planning to become a burglar, or a pirate chief, or a tramp, or an ordinary highwayman. But a careful analysis of the motives and experiences of the boy will show that the particular feature that Eddy admires in his hero is far removed from the ones that shock you. The boy is dreaming of travel and adventure, of the excitement of chasing or of being chased, of trying his ingenuity in conflict with the professionally ingenious minions of the law, of being brave in the face of danger, of testing his fortitude in the time of trouble, of the loyalty of his comrades to himself as leader, or of his loyalty to his chief when the latter is beset by his enemies. But courage and loyalty and fortitude and ingenuity are no more degrading ideals than are material possessions and intellectual accomplishments. Only it happens that many boys find these particular ideals embodied in heroes and personalities that we feel we must disapprove for various reasons. Robin Hood appeals to the children not because he violated the laws of the land or because he deprived people of their property, but because he was brave, and clever, and just, and kind to the poor.

In comparing the ideals of children raised in the city with those of children raised in the country, interesting differences appear. The city children are in general less inclined to be altruistic than country children at the same age. On the other hand, city children draw upon a wider range of characters from history and from fiction for their ideals. In the matter of future occupations, city children were often satisfied to mention some preference from the various occupations of which they had heard, without elaborating the details, whereas the country children, although they did not select from so wide a range, frequently described special features of some occupation as the interesting elements leading to a choice.

From the various studies that have been made we may see that the kind of ideals that a child is likely to have depends a great deal upon the _people_ with whom he becomes familiar, upon the _ideas_ with which he becomes familiar, and upon the _activities_ with which he becomes familiar. The child should have an opportunity to discover the best that is available in his immediate environment. His earliest heroes should be his parents; then the acquaintances near home should furnish the qualities that will arouse his interest and admiration. It is a mistake to thrust upon the child ideals ready made and imported for the purpose. A hero thrust upon the young imagination may do service for a while, but is likely to be discarded later when that particular hero's virtues really need to be kept before the child much more than they did in the earlier period. George Washington and his hatchet have furnished us a legend that is a good illustration of this. The hero is dressed up to be attractive to children of nursery age, and endowed with nursery virtues. When the children grow up and so outgrow their nursery ideals, they discard interest in and admiration for George Washington: this is a serious loss to our national idealism.

The results of the studies also indicate how significant is suitable literature in the formation of ideals. A comparison of returns from girls with those from boys throws an important side light on this problem. In nearly every group of answers received it was evident that most girls, when they get to a certain age, adopt ideals that are decidedly masculine. The explanation of this seems to lie in the fact that the characters of history and of literature with whom they become most familiar are those showing distinctly masculine qualities. There are real differences between the mind of a girl and the mind of a boy, and these should be taken into consideration in their training. There is great need for the clearer recognition and sharper definition of distinctly feminine ideals. It is not enough to transfer some imitation masculine ideals to the minds of our girls.

We should make a special effort to discover our children's ideals, for several reasons. First of all, by knowing what the girl or boy has nearest the heart we shall be able to enter into closer sympathy with the child, we shall be able to understand much of the conduct that would otherwise baffle as well as annoy us. In the second place, by watching the rise of ideals we shall be better able to direct the child's playing and his reading and those other activities that are needed to supply the experiences and ideas that seem to be lacking, or to discourage tendencies that seem to us undesirable. In the third place, if we know our children's ideals we can make use of these as motive forces in helping us to carry out our larger plans. It is when the boy is in the military stage of his ambitions that we should try to make the virtues of the soldier habitual parts of his character. It is when the girl is ambitious to make a fine garden that we should try to make her fix the habits of orderliness, regularity, and attention to details. Of course, not every girl will want to have a garden, and many a boy never cares to be a soldier; but at every stage there are ideals that can be called upon to fix the heart upon certain virtues until the latter become habits.

It is very easy to ridicule the ideals and ambitions of children when they seem to us too high-flown or futile. But a person's ideals stand too close to the centre of his character to be treated so rudely. It is better to ignore the many trifling flights of fancy that are not likely to have any permanent effect, and to throw the child into circumstances that will force the emergence of more deep-seated or far-reaching ambitions.

There is another danger in the ease with which a child's faith in ideals is destroyed, when these happen to interfere with our own immediate comfort and desires. When a boy has gotten into some mischief with his friends, and is the only one caught, we are tempted to bring pressure to bear upon him to make him tell who the other culprits were. Joe is ready to take his own punishment, and that of his fellow malefactors, too, rather than "snitch." But for some reason we feel that "justice" demands the conviction of every individual involved. The conflict is not between our sense of justice and the boy's stubbornness or wilfulness; it is rather a struggle between our demand for retribution and the boy's ideal of loyalty. If, through threats and cajolery or more indirect methods, we at last succeed in finding out that it was Mrs. Brown's Bob who was responsible for the whole affair, we have at last broken down Joe's inclination to act according to certain ideal standards. Joe has fallen in his own estimation beyond calculation. It is better to let Bob go "unpunished" than to make Joe go back on his principles.

One important outcome of a study of our children's ideals and ambitions should be the direction of their vocational choices. We have read of Benjamin Franklin's father, who took his boys about to various shops with a view to helping them make up their minds as to what kind of trade they should follow. Nowadays we should consider this method rather crude; but for a variety of reasons most of us do not do even this much for our children. A study of children's plans and hopes for their future work brings out the fact that the desire to "earn money" as a motive in the choice increases up to the age of twelve years, and then declines rapidly. This may be taken to mean that, apart from the enlarged range of interests that comes with increased experience, there is also an efflorescence of the fancy that leads to increased concern with ideal ends. This is confirmed by a comparison of the choice made by children of well-to-do families with those made by children of rather poor people. The children of the poor, in tragically large numbers, appear to accept the fact of working as a necessity of life; they accept this doggedly as a matter of course. The children of more prosperous families, on the other hand, though frequently expressing preferences for the same kinds of occupations, have their hearts set on the joy of achievement, or on the ideal of service, or on the fun of _doing_, in much larger proportions.

From answers written by English children in a factory district these examples are typical: