6. Rewarding Obedience
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The mode of action described in the last two chapters for training children to habits of obedience, consisted in discouraging disobedience by connecting some certain, though mild and gentle disadvantage, inconvenience, or penalty—with every transgression. In this chapter is to be considered another mode, which is in some respects the converse of the first, inasmuch as it consists in the encouragement of obedience, by often—not necessarily always—connecting with it some advantage, or gain, or pleasure; or, as it may be stated summarily—the cautious encouragement of obedience by rewards.
This method of action is more difficult than the other in the sense that it requires more skill, tact, and delicacy of perception and discrimination, to carry it successfully into effect. The other demands only firm—but gentle and steady persistence. If the penalty, however slight it may be, 'always comes,' the effect will take care of itself. But judiciously to administer a system of rewards, or even of commendations, requires tact, discrimination, and skill. It requires some observation of the peculiar characteristics of the different minds acted upon—and of the effects produced—and often some intelligent modification of the measures is required—to fit them to varying circumstances and times.
'Obedience must not be Bought'.
If the bestowing of commendation and rewards is made a matter of mere blind routine, as the assigning of gentle penalties may be—the result will become a mere system of 'bribing', or rather 'paying' children to be good. And goodness which is bought, if it deserves the name of virtue at all, is certainly virtue of a very inferior quality.
Whether a reward conferred for obedience shall operate as a bribe, or rather as a price paid—for a 'bribe', strictly speaking, is a price paid, not for doing right—but for doing wrong—depends sometimes on very slight differences in the management of the particular case—differences which an undiscriminating mother will not be very ready to appreciate.
A mother, for example, going into the village on a summer afternoon, leaves her children playing in the yard, under the general charge of Susan, who is at work in the kitchen, whence she can observe them from time to time through the open window. She thinks the children will be safe, provided they remain in the yard. The only thing to be guarded against is the danger that they may go out through the gate into the road.
'Two Different Modes of Management'.
Under some circumstances, as, for example, where the danger to which they would be exposed in going into the road was very great, or where the mother cannot rely upon her power to control her children's conduct by moral means in any way, the only safe method would be to fasten the gate. But if she prefers to depend for their safety on their voluntary obedience to her commands—and wishes, moreover, to promote the spirit of obedience by rewarding rather than punishing, she can make her rewards of the nature of hire or not, according to her mode of management.
If she wishes to 'hire' obedience, she has only to say to the children that she is going into the village for a little time—and that they may play in the yard while she is gone—but must not go out of the gate; adding, that she is going to bring home some oranges or candies, which she will give them if she finds that they have obeyed her—but which she will not give them if they have disobeyed.
Such a promise, provided the children have the double confidence in their mother which such a method requires—namely, first, a full belief that she will really bring home the promised rewards, if they obey her; and secondly—and this is a confidence much less frequently felt by children—and much less frequently deserved by their mothers—a conviction that, in case they disobey, no importunities on their part or promises for the next time will induce their mother to give them the good things—but that the rewards will certainly be lost to them unless they are deserved, according to the conditions of the promise—in such a case—that is, when this double confidence exists, the promise will have great influence upon the children. Still, it is, in its nature, 'hiring' them to obey. I do not say that this is necessarily a bad plan, though I think there is a better. Children may, perhaps, be trained gradually to habits of obedience, by a system of direct rewards—and in a manner, too, far more agreeable to the parent and better for the child than by a system of compulsion through threats and punishment.
'The Method of Indirect Rewarding'.
But there is another way of connecting pleasurable ideas and associations, with submission to parental authority in the minds of children, as a means of alluring them to the habit of obedience—one that is both more efficient in its results, and more healthful and beneficial in its action, than the practice of bestowing direct recompenses and rewards.
Suppose, for example, in the case above described, the mother, on leaving the children, simply gives them the command that they are not to leave the yard—but makes no promises—and then, on returning from the village with the bonbons in her bag, simply asks Susan, when she comes in, whether the children have obeyed her injunction not to leave the yard. If Susan says yes, she nods to them, with a look of satisfaction and pleasure—and adds: "I thought they would obey me. I am very glad. Now I can trust them again."
Then, by-and-by, towards the close of the day, perhaps—and when the children suppose that the affair is forgotten, she takes an opportunity to call them to her, saying that she has something to tell them.
"You remember when I went to the village today, I left you in the yard and said that you must not go out of the gate—and you obeyed. Perhaps you would have liked to go out into the road and play there—but you would not go because I had forbidden it. I am very glad that you obeyed. I thought of you when I was in the village—and I thought you would obey me. I felt quite safe about you. If you had been disobedient children, I would have felt uneasy and anxious. But I felt safe. When I had finished my shopping, I thought I would buy you some bonbons—and here they are. You can go and sit down together on the carpet and divide them. Mary can choose one—and then Jane; then Mary—and then Jane again; and so on until they are all chosen."
'Difference in the Character of the Effects'.
It may, perhaps, be said by the reader that this is substantially the same as giving a direct reward for the obedience. I admit that it is in some sense 'substantially' the same thing—but it is not the same in form. And this is one of those cases where the effect is modified very greatly by the form. Where children are directly promised a reward if they do so and so, they naturally regard the transaction as of the nature of a contract or a bargain, such that when they have fulfilled the conditions on their part the reward is their due, as, indeed, it really is; and they come and demand it as such. The tendency, then, is, to divest their minds of all sense of obligation in respect to doing right—and to make them feel that it is in some sense optional with them whether to do right and earn the reward, or not to do right and lose it.
In the case, however, last described, which seems at first view to differ only in form from the preceding one, the commendation and the bonbons would be so connected with the act of obedience as to associate very agreeable ideas with it in the children's minds—and thus to make doing right appear attractive to them on future occasions, while, at the same time, they would not in any degree deprive the act itself of its spontaneous character, as resulting from a sense of duty on their part, or produce the impression on their minds that their remaining within the gate was of the nature of a service rendered to their mother for hire—and afterwards duly paid for.
The lesson which we deduce from this illustration and the considerations connected with it may be stated as follows:
'The General Principle'.
That the rewards conferred upon children with a view of connecting pleasurable ideas and associations with good conduct, should not take the form of compensations stipulated for beforehand—and then conferred according to agreement, as if they were of the nature of payment for a service rendered. But the rewards should come as the natural expression of the satisfaction and happiness felt by the mother in the good conduct of her child—expressions as free and spontaneous on her part—as the good conduct was on the part of the child.
The mother who understands the full import of this principle—and whose mind becomes fully possessed of it, will find it constantly coming into practical use in a thousand ways. She has undertaken, for example, to teach her little son to read. Of course learning to read is irksome to him. He dislikes extremely to leave his play—and come to take his lesson. Sometimes a mother is inconsiderate enough to be pained at this. She is troubled to find that her boy takes so little interest in so useful a work—and even, perhaps, scolds him—and threatens him for not loving study. "If you don't learn to read," she says to him, in a tone of irritation and displeasure, "you will grow up to be a dunce—and everybody will laugh at you—and you will be ashamed to be seen."
'Children's Difficulties'.
But let her imagine that she herself was to be called away two or three times a day, for half an hour, to study Chinese, with a very exacting teacher, always more or less impatient and dissatisfied with her progress; and yet the irksomeness and difficulty for the mother, in learning to decipher Chinese, would be as nothing compared with that of the child in learning to read. The only thing that could make the work even tolerable to the mother would be a pretty near, distinct and certain prospect of going to China under circumstances that would make the knowledge of great advantage to her. But the child has no such near, distinct and certain prospect of the advantages of knowing how to read. He has scarcely any idea of these advantages at all. You can describe them to him—but the description will have no perceptible effect upon his mind. Those faculties by which we bring the future vividly before us so as to influence our present action—are not yet developed in the child. His cerebral organization has not yet advanced to that condition, any more than his bones have advanced to the hardness, rigidness—and strength of manhood. His mind is only capable of being influenced strongly by what is present, or, at least, very near. It is the design of Divine Providence that this should be so. The young child is not created with faculties to look much forward; and the mother who is pained and distressed because he will not look forward, shows a great ignorance of the nature of the childish mind—and of the manner of its development. If she finds fault with her boy for not feeling distinctly enough the future advantages of learning to lead him to love study now, she is simply finding fault with a boy for not being possessed of the most slowly developed faculties of a man.
The way, then, to induce children to attend to such duties as learning to read, is not to reason with them on the advantages of it—but to put it simply on the ground of authority. "It is very irksome, I know—but you must do it. When you are at play—and having a very pleasant time, I know very well that it is hard for you to be called away to study over your letters and your reading. It was very hard for me when I was a child. It is very hard for all children; but then it must be done."
The way in this, as in all other similar cases, to reduce the irksomeness of disagreeable duties to a minimum, is not to attempt to convince or persuade the child—but to put the performance of them simply on the ground of submission to parental authority. The child must leave his play and come to take his lesson, not because he sees that it is better for him to learn to read, than to play all the time; nor because he is to receive a reward in the form of compensation—but because his mother requires him to do it.
'Indirect Rewarding'.
If, therefore, she concludes, in order to connect agreeable ideas with the hard work of learning to read, that she will often, at the close of the lessons, tell him a little story, or show him a picture, or have a frolic with him, or give him a piece of candy or a lump of sugar, or bestow upon him any other little gratification—it is better not to promise these things beforehand, so as to give to the coming of the child, when called, the character of a service rendered for hire. Let him come simply because he is called; and then let the gratifications be bestowed as the expressions of his mother's satisfaction and happiness, in view of her boy's ready obedience to her commands and faithful performance of his duty.
'Obedience, though Implicit, need not be Blind'.
It must not be supposed from what has been said that because a mother is not to 'rely upon' the reason, and the respect to future advantages to accrue from efforts or sacrifices, as motives of present action, that she is not to employ the influence of these motives at all. It is true that those faculties of the mind by which we apprehend distant things and govern our conduct by them are not yet developed in the child; but they are 'to be' developed—and the aid of the parent will be of the greatest service in promoting the development of them. At proper times, then, the pleasures and advantages of knowing how to read should be described to the child—and presented moreover in the most attractive form. The proper time for doing this would be when no lesson is in question—during a ride or a walk, or in the midst of a story, or while looking at a book of pictures. A most improper time would be when a command had been given and was disregarded, or was reluctantly obeyed; for then such representations would only tend to enfeeble the principle of authority by bringing in the influence of reasonings and persuasions to make up for its disobedience. It is one of those cases where a force is weakened by reinforcement—as a plant, by being long held up by a stake, comes in the end not to be able to stand alone.
So a mother cannot in any way more effectually undermine her authority, as 'authority', than by attempting to eke out its force by arguments and cajolings and coaxings.
'Authority not to be made Oppressive'.
While the parent must thus take care to establish the 'principle of authority' as the ground of obedience on the part of his children—and must not make their doing what he requires any the less acts of 'obedience', through vainly attempting to diminish the hardship of obeying a command by mingling the influence of reasonings and persuasions with it—he may in other ways do all in his power—and that will be a great deal—to make the acts of obedience easy, or, at least, to diminish the difficulty of them, and the severity of the trial which they often bring to the child.
One mode by which this may be done is by not springing disagreeable obligations upon a child suddenly—but by giving his mind a little time to form itself to the idea of what is to come. When Johnny and Mary are playing together happily with their blocks upon the floor—and are, perhaps, just completing a tower which they have been building, if their mother comes suddenly into the room, announces to them abruptly that it is time for them to go to bed, throws down the tower and brushes the blocks into the basket—and then hurries the children away to the undressing, she gives a sudden and painful shock to their whole nervous system—and greatly increases the disappointment and pain which they experience in being obliged to give up their play. The delay of a single minute would be sufficient to bring their minds around easily and gently into submission to the necessity of the case. If she comes to them with a smile, looks upon their work with an expression of interest and pleasure upon her countenance—and then says, "It is bed-time, children—but I would like to see you finish your tower."
One minute of delay like this, to soften the suddenness of the transition, will make the act of submission to the necessity of giving up play and going to bed, in obedience to the mother's command, comparatively easy; instead of being, as it very likely would otherwise have been, extremely vexatious and painful.
'Give a Little Time'.
In the same way, in bringing to a close an evening party of children at play, if the lady of the house comes a little before the time and says to them that after "one more play," or "two more plays," as the case may be," the party must come to an end," the closing of it would be made easy; while by waiting till the hour had come—and then suddenly interrupting the gaiety, perhaps in the middle of a game, by the abrupt announcement to the children that the clock has struck—and they must stop their plays and begin to get ready to go home, she brings upon them a sudden shock of painful surprise, disappointment—and, perhaps, irritation.
So, if children are to be called away from their play for any purpose whatever, it is always best to give them a little notice, if it be only a moment's notice, beforehand. "John, in a minute or two I shall wish you to go and get some wood. You can be getting your things ready to be left." "Mary, it is almost time for your lesson. You had better put Dolly to sleep and lay her in the cradle." "Boys, in ten minutes it will be time for you to go to school. So do not begin any new whistles—but only finish what you have begun."
On the same principle, if boys are at play in the open air—at ball, or skating, or flying kites—and are to be recalled by a bell, obedience to the call will be made much more easy to them by a preliminary signal, as a warning, given five minutes before the time.
Of course, it will not always be convenient to give these signals and these times of preparation. Nor will it be always necessary to give them. To determine how and in what cases it is best to apply the principle here explained will require some tact and good judgment on the part of the parent. It would be folly to lay down a rigid rule of this kind to be considered as always obligatory. All that is desirable is that the mother should understand the principle—and that she should apply it as far as she conveniently and easily can do so. She will find in practice that when she once appreciates the value of it—and observes its kind and beneficent working, she will find it convenient and easy to apply it far more generally than she would suppose.
'No weakening of Authority in this'.
It is very plain that softening thus the hardship for the child of any act of obedience required of him, by giving him a little time—implies no abatement of the authority of the parent—nor does it detract at all from the implicitness of the obedience on the part of the child. The submission to authority is as complete in doing a thing in five minutes—if the order was to do it in five minutes—as in doing it at once if the order was to do it at once. And the mother must take great care, when thus trying to make obedience more easy by allowing time, that it should be prompt and absolute when the time has expired.
The idea is, that though the parent is bound fully to maintain his authority over his children, in all its force, he is also bound to make the exercise of it as little irksome and painful to them as possible—and to prevent as much as possible the pressure of it from encroaching upon their juvenile joys. He must insist inexorably on being obeyed; but he is bound to do all in his power to make the yoke of obedience, light and easily to be borne.
'Influence on the healthful Development of the Brain'.
Indeed, besides the bearing of these views on the happiness of the children, it is not at all improbable that the question of health may be seriously involved in them. The organs in childhood, are in an exceedingly immature, tender—and delicate condition; and all sudden, sharp—and, especially, painful emotions, greatly excite—and sometimes cruelly irritate them.
When we consider how seriously the action of the digestive organs, in people in an ordinary state of health, is often interfered with by mental anxiety or distress; how frequently, in people subject to headaches, the paroxysm is brought on by worryings or perplexities endured incidentally on the preceding day; and especially how often violent and painful emotions, when they are extreme, result in decided and sometimes in permanent and hopeless insanity—that is, in an irreparable damage to some delicate mechanism in the brain—we shall see that there is every reason for supposing that all sudden shocks to the nervous system of children, all violent and painful excitements, all vexations and irritations—and ebullitions of ill-temper and anger—have a tendency to disturb the healthy development of the cerebral organs—and may, in many cases, seriously affect the future health and welfare, as well as the present happiness, of the child.
It is true that mental disturbances and agitations of this kind cannot be wholly avoided. But they should be avoided as far as possible; and the most efficient means for avoiding them is a firm, though calm and gentle, establishment and maintenance of parental authority—and not, as many mothers very mistakingly imagine, by unreasonable indulgences—and by endeavors to manage their children by persuasions, bribings—and maneuverings , instead of by commands. The most indulged children—and the least governed—are always the most petulant and irritable children. While a strong parental government, if regular, uniform and just—and if administered by gentle measures—is the most effectual of all possible instrumentalities for surrounding childhood with an atmosphere of calmness and peace.
In a word, while the mother is bound to do all in her power to render submission to her authority easy and agreeable to her children, by softening as much as possible the disappointment and hardship which her commands sometimes occasion—and by connecting pleasurable ideas and sensations with acts of obedience on the part of the child, she must not at all relax the authority itself—but must maintain it under all circumstances in its full force, with a very firm and decided, though still gentle hand.
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