Your Child Today and Tomorrow | Page 7

of it." Another girl: "If I had been Jennie's mother, I would of painted Jennie's face and hands and toes. I would of switched her well. I would of washed her mouth out with soap and water, and I should stand her on the floor for half an hour."
This view was taken mostly by the younger children.
The second reason for punishing is to prevent a repetition of the act. A thirteen year old girl says: "I would take the paints away and not let her have them until she learned not to do that again." When a threat is used it is with the same idea in view: "I wouldn't do anything just then, but I would have said: 'If you do that any more I would whip you and send you to bed besides!'" All trace of revenge has disappeared.
The third stage of punishment is higher still. Jennie is punished in order to reform her. In the previous examples the act was all-important. Now Jennie and her moral condition come into the foreground. None of the younger children take the trouble to explain to Jennie why it was wrong to paint the parlor chairs. A large percentage of the older ones do so explain.
A country boy of fourteen says: "I would have took her with me into the parlor, and I would have talked to her about the injury she had done to the chairs, and talked kindly to her, and explained to her that the paints were not what was put on chairs to make them look nice."
A girl of sixteen says: "I think that the mother was very unwise to lose her temper over something which the child had done to please her. I think it would have been far wiser in her to have kissed the little one, and then explained to her how much mischief she had done in trying to please her mother."
We can see from this study that the children themselves are capable of reaching a rather lofty attitude toward wrong-doing and punishment, yet these children when grown up--that is, we ourselves--so frequently return to a more primitive way of looking at these problems. In punishing our children we go back to the method of the five- and six-year-old.
What is the reason for our apparent back-sliding? Is it not plainly the fact that we allow ourselves to be mastered by the animal instinct to strike back? When the child does something that causes annoyance or even damage, do we stop to consider his motive, his "intent," or do we only respond to the result of his action? Do we have a studied policy for treating his offence, or do we slide back to the desire to "get even" or to "pay him" for what he has done?
Sometimes a very small offence will have grave consequences, while a really serious fault may cause but little trouble.
Here, for instance, is Harry, who was so intent upon chasing the woodchuck that he ran through the new-sown field, trampling down the earth. He caused considerable damage. If your punishment assumes the proportion dictated by the anger which the harm caused, he certainly will be dealt with severely. Knowing that he had not meant to do wrong, he cannot help but feel the injustice of your wrath. Of course, he has been careless and he must be impressed with the harm such carelessness can cause. Whether you lock him in a room or deprive him of some special pleasure, or whether you merely talk to him, depends upon you and upon Harry. But one thing must be certain: Harry must not get the notion that you are avenging yourself upon him for the harm he has done, or for the ill-feeling aroused by his act--he must not feel that "you are taking it out of him" because you have been made angry.
This brings us to the old rule: Never punish in anger.
On the other hand, while we must allow every trace of anger to disappear, we must not allow so much time to elapse as to make the child lose the connection between his act and the consequence. A little boy at breakfast threw some salt upon his sister's apple in a spirit of mischief. The mother sent him out of the room and told him that he would have to go to bed two hours earlier than usual that night as a punishment for his misdeed. Now we all know that "the days of youth are long, long days," and the many events of that day had completely crowded out of the little boy's mind the trivial, impulsive act of the morning. The punishment could not arouse in him any feeling but that of unjust privation.
This particular case illustrates three other problems in connection with punishment. In