Destructiveness

We live in a small three-room apartment, the best we can afford. We have a few knick-knacks and mementos which we treasure, and we are in a constant dither lest Junior climb up on a chair, reach up, and break these very nice things. We know that, ideally, we should have a separate room for the little boy where he could not destroy anything of value to us. As parents dedicated to Summerhill ideas, we are deeply concerned about saddling him with restric­tions about not to touch this or that. Have you any advice?

Here we have a universal problem, that of the gulf between juvenile and adult values. In every home, parents have to tell a child to leave something alone—the cat with its tempting tail, the cooking gadgets, and the electric plugs. In the ease at hand, the best solution would be for the parents to park all the valued things in closed cupboards or on high shelves.

In a way, your child has more realistic values than you have. To a parent, ornaments, photographs, etc. have a static value; the disappearance of these mementos and arti­facts would, in most cases, not actually make a scrap of difference in the real day-to-day happiness of the average adult. To the child, the adored objects are things to move, to do something with—the delight in hearing a glass pitcher smash on the floor, for example.

Generally, it is the mother who overvalues things; it is she who buys vases that mean little to the father and less than nothing to the child. Nearly every house is cluttered up with bric-a-brac that very often is not even ornamental... the family photograph on the mantelpiece, the bowl that Aunt Mary sent last Christmas. I almost feel like saying that it would be a good thing to give Junior the whole lot to prance on, though, I admit, this is beside the point.

The real point is that millions of children are constantly sacrificed to things and to stupid taboos: Sit up straight at table. Don’t start to eat until all are served. Don’t dare spill anything on the kitchen floor.

It is all a matter of values. A parent might well ask himself: Which would I miss most—Junior—or that crystal decanter? Put the decanter away until the child is grown, and you will have both your child and your precious piece.

Our boy of six likes to break windows. We might encour­age him to go on doing so but we cannot afford to pay for them. What can we do?

At the moment, Summerhill has such a boy of six. He has had a rather strict upbringing. I asked him if he broke windows at home. “Yes, but I don’t now because I got whipped for it.”

Obviously, this little fellow is seeking love; he is one of those typical eases where the unconscious thought is: If I can’t get love, I’ll get hate. Our staff do their best to show-that little lad love; the window damage is followed by hug­ging and approval. Even our pupils do their best for him; in their tribunals, they never charge him with wanton de­struction. They know what’s going on underneath, and they sympathize with the poor tyke.

I have no idea of your home set-up, and can only guess that Junior deems himself neglected in some way. He is un­doubtedly trying to win attention. I am certain that punish­ment will only make him behave worse.

Even if you could afford it, I would be against your joining him in breaking glass. I once knew a schoolmaster who had an outbreak of glass smashing in his school. He joined in the fun; and the whole class burst into tears for they knew he was doing something he didn’t believe in. When Homer Lane, the great educator, joined his
delin­quent lads in destruction, he was a smiling schoolboy him­self. Lane empathized with the underprivileged, deprived boy. He had the power to put himself in the place of the destroyer. Lane acted via emotion. When dealing with children, one should not act because one thinks the method is right; one must fed the method is right.

My practical advice to you is: give the boy a drum and a whistle and as many metal toys as it will take for him to make one hell of a row. That might serve as a full outlet. And then, parents, you can set about worrying about what to do to placate the neighbors. But most important of all: give the kid as much love as you are capable of.

Too few parents ask the proper questions: Why is my boy breaking windows? Why is he stealing? Why does my boy find joy in destroying? If one accepts the psychology of William Golding’s Lord of the flies, the answer is easy. A boy is a young devil; he has to be made good by adult exam­ple and by punishment and through character-molding.

My answer is that a young devil—when free to be him­self without outside compulsion—becomes a social human being. Given time, of course.

If a boy is hateful and destructive, he is protesting against something in the home: lack of parental love, or too many stupid and unnecessary restrictions. Don’t put your elbows on the table, boy.

Let me emphasize: no happy child destRoys. Wher­ever there is a destructive child, the parents should ask themselves: Why isn’t my child happy?

Дата добавления: 2015-11-16