Letters to Persons Who Are Engaged in Domestic Service

by Catharine Esther Beecher

A little boy is out of humour—he goes sullenly about, and if any one speaks to him answers in cross tones—and then he teazes some one—or strikes, or kicks some one who teazes him.

The nurse sees that the difficulty is, that the child feels irritable and unhappy, and that fault-finding will only make him feel worse. So she goes and takes him in her lap, and says, “Come here, children, and hear this story—or see this pretty thing—or hear me read something pretty to you”—so she contrives to amuse them a few minutes till all feel pleasant, and then she says to the offender, “Now, my dear little boy, you have been feeling cross and unhappy and have done wrong, but if you will try to be pleasant and speak kind for a whole hour, I will do so and so;—and you other children too, must try to make your little brother feel comfortable and happy, and not trouble him in any way.” Try such a method, and you will find it much better than fretting at the child yourself.

A person who takes care of children should economize her favors and kindnesses, and keep them to use for such occasions. If there are little enjoyments she can procure, or favours she can bestow, instead of giving them without any effort to gain them by the children—she should save them to use as rewards for

their endeavours to be patient, kind and obedient.

And in all the management of children, it should be a maxim to regulate them by love and hope, rather than by fault-finding and other penalties.

If you tell a child “If you try to do so and so, you shall have such an enjoyment,” then the child has something pleasant to think of whenever he is tempted to do wrong, and he is pleased in trying. But if you tell him “If you do so and so, you shall be punished,” or if he feels that he shall get a scolding if he does what he wants to do—then there is nothing pleasant before the mind, while trying to do right. He sees punishment coming if he does one way—and no good comes if he does the other way, and so he has no pleasurable feeling at all to lead him to do right. There are some faults that must be cured by punishment, but these a parent must manage and not the domestics who take care of children. Let me advise you then, to manage children as much as possible by keeping them happy, and by offering them rewards for efforts to be good.

And in offering these rewards, always have some particular thing that the child can try to do or not to do. Do not tell the child, “If you will be good all day I will do so and so.” For “being good” is so indefinite that the child cannot tell what he is to aim at.—But tell a child, “Now if you will go a whole hour without speaking one unkind word, or if you will do such and such a thing, you shall have a favour,” and then the child has some definite thing to try to do. And be careful not to have the time of trial too long, for an hour to a child is as long as a day to older persons, and if you can get a child to govern itself a short time, it is learning to do it easier and longer the next time.

When children have faults never try to shame them out of them. Nothing hardens a child so much as this practice. Telling other people a child’s faults, for the purpose of curing the fault, is a sad, sad mistake. Suppose, in order to cure you of some bad habit, your employer should take visitors into the kitchen to shame you by telling them of your faults. Do you think it would be a good way to cure you?

Surely not, and it is no better to treat children thus.

Instead of this, always treat children as if you thought they wished and intended to do right, and when they do wrong show sympathy and pity towards them, and try to conceal their faults from others as much as you can. This will make children love you, and try the more to do as you advise. When you have done wrong, if a person says, “It is always just so—I always expect you will forget, and do the wrong thing—I never can put any confidence in you”—does it not make you feel discouraged, as if there was no use in trying, and as if you were unjustly dealt with? But suppose your employer says, “Oh, I see you forgot this thing—or did that thing wrong—but I suppose you did not mean to. We all forget sometimes—I think you will remember better next time.” Does not such treatment make you feel as if you should try not to forget next time—far more than the first mode?