7. The Art of Training
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It is very clear that the most simple and the most obvious of the modes by which a parent may establish among his children the habit of submission to his authority, are those which have been already described, namely, punishments and rewards. Punishments, gentle in their character—but invariably enforced, as the sure results of acts of insubordination. Andrewards for obedience, occasionally and cautiously bestowed, in such a manner that they may be regarded as recognitions simply, on the part of the parent, of the good conduct of his children—and expressions of his gratification—and not in the light of payment or hire. These are obviously the most simple modes—and the ones most ready at hand. They require no exalted or unusual qualities on the part of father or mother, unless, indeed, we consider gentleness, combined with firmness and good sense—as an assemblage of rare and exalted qualities. To assign—and firmly and uniformly to enforce, just but gentle penalties for disobedience; and to recognize—and sometimes reward, special acts of obedience and submission—are measures fully within the reach of every parent, however humble may be the condition of his intelligence or his attainments of knowledge.
'Another Class of Influences'.
There is, however, another class of influences to be adopted, not as a substitute for these simple measures—but in connection and cooperation with them, which will be far more deep, powerful—and permanent in their results, though they require much higher qualities in the parent for carrying them successfully into effect. This higher method consists in a systematic effort to develop in the mind of the child a love of the principle of obedience, by express and appropriate training.
'Parents not aware of the Extent of their Responsibility'.
Many parents, perhaps indeed nearly all, seem, as we have already shown, to act as if they considered the duty of obedience on the part of their children as a matter of course. They do not expect their children to read or to write without being taught; they do not expect a dog to fetch and carry, or a horse to draw and to understand commands and signals, without being 'trained'. In all these cases they perceive the necessity of training and instruction—and understand that the initiative is with 'them'. If a horse, endowed by nature with average good qualities, does not work well—the fault is attributed at once to the man who undertook to train him. But what mother, when her child, grown large and strong, becomes the trial and sorrow of her life by his ungovernable disobedience and insubordination, takes the blame to herself in reflecting that he was placed in her hands when all the powers and faculties of his soul were in embryo, tender, pliant and unresisting, to be formed and fashioned at her will?
'The Spirit of filial Obedience not Instinctive'.
Children, as has already been remarked, do not require to be taught and trained to eat and drink, to resent injuries, to cling to their possessions, or to run to their mother in danger or pain. They have natural instincts which provide for all these things. But to speak, to read, to write; to tell the truth—and to obey their parents; to forgive injuries, to face bravely imaginary dangers, and bear patiently unavoidable pain—are attainments for which no natural instincts can adequately provide. There are instincts that will aid in the work—but none that can of themselves be relied upon without instruction and training.
In actual fact, children usually receive their instruction and training in respect to some of these things incidentally—as it happens—by the rough knocks and frictions—and various painful experiences which they encounter in the early years of life. In respect to others, the guidance and aid afforded them is more direct and systematic. Unfortunately the establishment in their minds of the principle of obedience comes ordinarily under the former category. No systematic and appropriate efforts are made by the parent to implant it. It is left to the uncertain and fitful influences of accident—to remonstrances, reproaches and injunctions called forth under sudden excitement in the various emergencies of domestic discipline—and to other means, vague, capricious and uncertain—and having no wise adaptedness to the attainment of the end in view.
'Requires appropriate Training'.
How much better and more successfully the object would be accomplished, if the mother were to understand distinctly at the outset—that the work of training her children to the habit of submission to her authority is a duty, the responsibility of which devolves not upon her children—but upon her! That it is a duty, moreover, of the highest importance—and one that demands careful consideration, much forethought—and the wise adaptation of means to the end.
'Methods'.
The first thought of some parents may possibly be—that they do not know of any other measures to take in order to teach their children submission to their authority, than to reward them when they obey, and punish them when they disobey. To show that there are other methods, we will consider a particular case.
Mary, a young lady of seventeen, came to make a visit to her sister. She soon perceived that her sister's children, Adolphus and Lucia, were entirely ungoverned. Their mother coaxed, cajoled, remonstrated, advised, gave reasons—did everything, in fact, except simply to command. And the children, consequently, did pretty much what they pleased. Their mother reproached the children for their undutiful behavior. But the reproaches produced no effect.
"The first thing that I have to do," said Mary to herself, in observing this state of things, "is to teach the children to obey—at least to obey 'me'. I will give them their first lesson at once."
'Mary makes a Beginning'.
So she proposed to them to go out with her into the garden and show her the flowers, adding that if they would do so she would make each of them a bouquet. She could make them some very pretty bouquets, she said, provided they would help her—and would follow her directions and obey her implicitly while gathering and arranging the flowers.
This the children promised to do—and Mary went with them into the garden. There, as she passed about from border to border, she gave them a great many different directions in respect to things which they were to do, or which they were not to do. She gathered flowers—and gave some to one child—and some to the other, to be held and carried—with special instructions in respect to many details, such as directing some flowers to be put together—and others to be kept separate—and specifying in what manner they were to be held or carried. Then she led them to a bower where there was a long seat—and explained to them how they were to lay the flowers in order upon the seat—and directed them to be very careful not to touch them after they were once laid down. They were, moreover, to leave a place in the middle of the seat entirely clear. They asked what that was for. Mary said that they would see by-and-by. "You must always do just as I say," she added, "and perhaps I shall explain the reason afterwards, or perhaps you will see what the reason is yourselves."
After going on in this way until a sufficient number and variety of flowers were collected, Mary took her seat in the vacant place which had been left—and assigned the two portions of the seat upon which the flowers had been placed to the children, giving each the charge of the flowers upon one portion, with instructions to select and give to her such as she should call for. From the flowers thus brought she formed two bouquets, one for each of the children. Then she set them both at work to make bouquets for themselves, giving them minute and special directions in regard to every step. If her object had been to cultivate their taste and judgment, then it would have been better to allow them to choose the flowers and determine the arrangement for themselves; but she was teaching them 'obedience', or, rather, beginning to form in them the 'habit' of obedience; and so, the more numerous and minute the commands the better, provided that they were not in themselves unreasonable, nor so numerous and minute as to be vexatious, so as to incur any serious danger of their not being readily and good-humoredly obeyed.
'The Art of Training'.
When the bouquets were finished Mary gave the children, the two which had been made for them; and the two which they had made for themselves she took into the house and placed them in glasses upon the parlor mantel-piece—and then stood back with the children in the middle of the room to admire them.
"See how pretty they look! And how nicely the work went on while we were making them! That was because you obeyed me so well while we were doing it. You did exactly as I said in everything."
'A Beginning only'.
Now this was an excellent 'first lesson' in training the children to the habit of obedience. It is true that it was 'only' a first lesson. It was a beginning—but it was a very good beginning. If, on the following day, Mary had given the children a command which it would be irksome to them to obey, or one which would have called for any special sacrifice or self-denial on their part, they would have disregarded it. Still they would have been a little less inclined to disregard it than if they had not received their first lesson; and there can be no doubt that if Mary were to continue her training in the same spirit in which she commenced it she would, before many weeks, acquire a complete ascendancy over them—and make them entirely submissive to her will.
And yet this is a species of training, the efficacy of which depends on influences in which the hope of reward or the fear of punishment does not enter. The bouquets were not promised to the children at the outset, nor were they given to them at last as rewards. It is true that they saw the advantages resulting from due subordination of the inferiors to the superior in concerted action—and at the end they felt a satisfaction in having acted right; but these advantages did not come in the form of rewards. The efficacy of the lesson depended on a different principle altogether.
'The Philosophy of it'.
The philosophy of it was this: Mary, knowing that the principle of obedience in the children was extremely weak—and that it could not stand any serious test, contrived to bring it into exercise a great many times under the lightest possible pressure. She called upon them to do a great many different things, each of which was very easy to do—and gave them many little prohibitions which it required a very slight effort of self-denial on their part to regard; and she connected agreeable associations in their minds with the idea of submission to authority, through the interest which she knew they would feel in seeing the work of gathering the flowers and making the bouquets go systematically and prosperously on—and through the commendation of their conduct, which she expressed at the end.
Such people as Mary do not analyze distinctly, in their thoughts, nor could they express in words, the principles which underlie their management; but they have an instinctive mental perception of the adaptation of such means to the end in view. Other people, who observe how easily and quietly they seem to obtain an ascendency over all children coming within their influence—and how absolute this ascendency often becomes, are frequently surprised at it. They think there is some mystery about it; they say it is "a knack that some people have;" but there is no mystery about it at all—and nothing unusual or strange, except so far as practical good sense, considerate judgment, and intelligent observation and appreciation of the characteristics of childhood, are unusual and strange.
Mary was aware that, although the principle of obedience is seldom or never entirely obliterated from the hearts of children—that is, that the impression upon their minds, which, though it may not be absolutely instinctive, is very early acquired, that it is incumbent on them to obey those set in authority over them—is seldom wholly effaced. This sentiment had become extremely feeble in the minds of Adolphus and Lucia; and that it was like a frail and dying plant, which required very delicate and careful nurture to quicken it to life and give it its normal health and vigor. Her management was precisely of this character. It called the weak and feeble principle into gentle exercise, without putting it to any severe test—and thus commenced the formation of a 'habit of action'. Anyone will see that a course of training on these principles, patiently and perseveringly continued for the proper time, could not fail of securing the desired end, except in cases of children characterized by unusual and entirely abnormal perversity.
We cannot here follow in detail the various modes in which such a manager as Mary would adapt her principle to the changing incidents of each day—and to the different stages of progress made by her pupils in learning to obey—but can only enumerate certain points worthy of the attention of parents, who may feel desirous to undertake such a work of training.
'Three practical Directions'.
1. Relinquish entirely the idea of expecting children to be 'spontaneously' docile and obedient. Relinquish entirely the practice of scolding or punishing them vindictively when they are disobedient. Instead of so doing, understand that submissiveness and obedience on their part is to be the result of wise, careful, and persevering, though gentle training, on the part of the parent.
2. If the children have already formed habits of disobedience and insubordination, do not expect that the desirable change can be effected by sudden, spasmodic and violent efforts, accompanied by denunciations and threats—and declarations that you are going to "turn over a new leaf." The attempt to change perverted tendencies in children by such means is like trying to straighten a bend in the stem of a growing tree by blows with a hammer.
3. Instead of this, begin without saying at all what you are going to do, or finding any fault with the past—and, with a distinct recognition of the fact that whatever is bad in the 'native tendencies' of your children's minds is probably inherited from their parents—and, perhaps, specially from yourself—and that whatever is wrong in their 'habits of action' is certainly the result of your bad training; proceed cautiously and gently—but perseveringly and firmly, in bringing the bent stem gradually up to the right position. In doing this, there is no amount of ingenuity and skill, however great, that may not be usefully employed; nor is there, on the other hand, except in very rare and exceptional cases, any parent who has an allotment so small as not to be sufficient to accomplish the end, if conscientiously and faithfully employed.
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