HOW CHILDREN FAIL : Fear and Failure.
How is it possible for children of only ten to have such strongly developed concepts of themselves, and these unfavorable almost to the point of self-contempt and self-hatred? We expect this of older children; but that it should have gone so far, so soon . . . Are there any of them who are so busy with the world and with living that they just don't bother to think much about themselves? Perhaps Betty. Perhaps Hal. Not many others.Perhaps they are thrown too early, and too much, into a crowded society of other children, where they have to think, not about the world, but about their position in it.
Is it possible that our modern way of teaching, all gentle- ness, persuasiveness, and human contact, tends to make children get themselves and their work all mixed up?...
There was a word on Sam's report card that he could not understand; he was almost in tears over it. Why should he have assumed that it was bad? Of course, we adults tend to see all small, specific failures, of our own or of children, as proof of general failure, incompetence, worthlessness. Is it a cultural matter? Are there no people in the world for whom it is not a disgrace to do something badly?
Note the danger of using a child's concept of himself to get him to do good work. We say "You are the kind of sensible, smart, good, etc., etc. boy or girl who can easily do this problem, if you try." But if the work fails, so does the concept. If he can't do the problem, no matter how hard he tries, then, clearly, he is not sensible, smart, or good.
If children worry so much about failure, might it not be because they rate success too highly and depend on it too much? May there not be altogether too much praise for good work in the lower grades? If, 'when Johnny does good work, we make him feel "good," may we not, without intending it, be making him feel "bad" when he does bad work?
Do children really need so much praise? When a child, after a long struggle, finally does the cube puzzle, does he need to be told that he has done well? Doesn't he know, without being told, that he has accomplished something? In fact, when we praise him, are we not perhaps horning in on his accomplishment, stealing a little of his glory, edging our way into the limelight, praising ourselves for having helped to turn out such a smart child? Is not most adult praise of children a kind of self-praise? I think of that marvelous composition that Nat wrote about the dining room in his house. I find now, to my horror, that in thinking with satisfaction about that comp, I am really congratulating myself for my part in it. What a clever boy this is! and what a clever man am I for helping to make him so!