The boy is not always a good self-analyst. He is too prone to measure his talents perfunctorily. It does not follow that your son’s calling is art because he can chalk a caricature on the wall; that he should be a poet because he can dash off a sentiment in rhyme; that he is suited to the clergy because he is of a pious turn of mind. It does not always follow that the thing he does the most easily he can do the best. This is the mistake that parents must guard against when the time comes for choosing a profession for the boy.
They have studied the boy from infancy, while he has studied himself but little, and that with an immatured mind. Is it unlikely, then, that the parents often know his latent capabilities better than he himself knows them? It goes without saying that the son shall not be driven by parental authority into a profession that is distasteful to him; but I think in most cases the parents can aid the boy in finding the true thread of his bent. With no attempt at coercion they can help him to accurately analyse those natural leanings which, in the embryo, are many times conflicting and misleading. It appears to me that the counsel of the parents is needed at this time no less than at any other period in the boy’s life.
Having seen the boy well reared and started in the career for which he is best equipped, and under the direction of a superior whose influence will be uplifting, I think the parents may rest in that peace and tranquillity of mind that comes with the consciousness of a duty well done. They may now sit quietly by and watch while the boy works.
I would caution them against expecting too much of him. Of the million-and-a-half of American boys born every year, all cannot be famous—all cannot be rich. Only a few can be President of the United States. But all can be good citizens, and that is the kind of material that the country needs. We have plenty of great men, and too many very rich men. A great man is merely a good man picked haphazard from thousands of others just as good—picked by Opportunity whenever the occasion demands. A rich man is one who has more money than he needs. Either of these, beyond a certain stage of self-progress, is a child of chance.
What you have a right to expect from your son, if you have trained him conscientiously, is success. I do not mean the success that is measured by the dollar sign, or by the size of the type in which the newspapers print his name.
The successful man, in the true sense of the word, is the law-abiding citizen who gives unto the world enough of his brain and brawn to pay the way of himself and his family through it.
I believe there is the making of such a man in every healthy boy that is born into the civilised world. I believe that every healthy boy is brought into the world a good boy. If one of these develops into a bad boy it is because he is made to; not affirmatively, but negatively—through the want of proper training. All the boy needs is to be treated as a boy. He is not a god, to be worshipped, or a girl, to be coddled, or a dog, to be driven. The boy that I know is a sturdy little human being, distinctly masculine in gender, with a desire to be doing something and a want of direction; in fine, an embryotic man.
Give him the light, tell him the truth, show him the way. Do this consistently, conscientiously, and he will measure up to the highest standard of good citizenship.
More than this I do not ask of my boy.