Concerning Children

by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Should it be added to the public-school system,—open to all girls,—perhaps compulsory? Why not! Why wouldn't it be a good thing for all girls to know something of the care of children? But could we do that? Public schools are in politics; and that is awful. It would take forever to get it that way; and my child wants a nurse-maid now! Private endowment, I guess. So many rich people want to help the masses. This would furnish employment, raise wages, and give us nurse-maids. I'm sure it would appeal to any philanthropist.

Yes, some rich person must endow a training school for nurses,—that sounds like hospitals; for child-nurses,—that sounds like wet-nurses; for nurse-maids,—why need they be maids, though? Well, if they were married, they would have children of their own of course, and couldn't take care of ours. One would think, though, that motherhood would give them more experience,—that they would know how to care for children better. But, then, they wouldn't want to leave their own children to take care of ours. And they couldn't take care of them together. A mother would naturally do more for her own: she wouldn't be fair.

A training school for nurse-maids. After all, "maid" does not mean "unmarried" in this connection: it means simply "servant." And "nurse" comes from the time when mere nursing was all that was required,—a kind of a survival of old customs. How these things do open up, when one thinks about them! Why "nurse-maid" at all! Why not have a new and attractive name: that would help make them go to the training school, too.

Nurse, nursing,—it isn't nursing our children want. They are not sick, and they don't stay babies all the time they need this person. What is it that our children need? Of course, they do need direct, personal care; and, when they are babies, they need real "nursing,"—just somebody to—to—well, they have to be fed,—and that only needs a knowledge of infant physiology and nutrition; to keep the bottles clean, of course, and be very accurate, and follow directions. They don't need to know so much after all: the doctor tells what to give it to eat and what not to. And the mother understands the child's needs! Still, even for babies, they need some kind of training,—the nurses, I mean,—not the mothers: it is divinely implanted in the mother. And, then, mothers are studying these things now. I know ever so many young mothers who are taking child-study now; and about nutrition, too.

But the trouble is they can't depend on the nurses to carry out instructions. If they were only trustworthy! Will the training schools make them honourable? I suppose so. They would get some sense of the importance and dignity of their work. They would be graded and marked, of course, in their diplomas, so that one could pick out the dependable ones; and that would gradually elevate the standard. The trouble is, of course, when they go out. Children must be out of doors; and, in cities where we have no yards, they cannot be under the mother's eye, so they must be out with the nurse-maid. That's perfectly logical. Then there are the other nurse-maids. One cannot keep them isolated: that's out of the question. And if they have admirers, as they do, of course,—young girls always will have admirers, and training schools will not alter that,—why, if they meet their admirers, it has a tendency to make them careless. That is natural. We must allow for such things. And it is a perfectly natural temptation to take the baby to see their own families. We forbid it, of course; but I admit that it is a temptation. And there are all those awful risks of diseases and things. Now, if their families were nicer people and lived in nicer places,—but then they wouldn't want to be nurse-maids! But if the training school raises wages and standards, that will have an effect on the class of people who take up the work.

It certainly is the noblest, most beautiful, most important work in the world,—the training of children. I wonder why our own girls do not take it up,—our college girls. But then, of course, they wouldn't be "nurse-maids." Perhaps, if it had another name—

Now let me think, and be fair. Would I want my sister Jessie to be a nurse-maid? She is taking a kindergarten course, and we all approve of that: it does help one so in all those problems that perplex a mother! But, if she went to Mrs. MacAdoo's as a nurse-maid— The MacAdoos are nice people, too; and the children are as nice as any I know. They have a Swedish nurse-maid now,—a big, hearty, wholesome-looking girl, but stupid. Why, she cannot answer the simplest questions Harold asks, hardly; and he's always asking them. Jessie has him in the kindergarten where she is. I don't mean that she's the principal, but she is training there; and she tells me what a bright child he is, and what stupid things Christine has told him. And you see he has Jessie only three hours a day, and Christine all the time he's awake. Jessie is taking a special course in infant psychology, and she says Christine is doing him a world of harm. But she is so good-natured and faithful that they keep her. They don't realise that her being stupid is any harm to the children, I suppose. But, if Jessie had him all the time, Harold certainly would develope more rationally and more easily. And yet I am sure Jessie would not take Christine's place. You see we visit the MacAdoos, and it would be so awkward. Now, I think,—logically,—I am approaching a—I forget the name of it, but it's a thing there's no way out of.

We would like our nurse-maids to be ladies, but ladies are not willing to be nurse-maids. Now will the training school make ladies—or, at least, partial ladies—of our nurse-maids? And, if it does, will that make them disinclined to be nurse-maids? Or can we arrange the position of the nurse-maid, so that ladies will be willing to take it? What is the real difference between Jessie's position and Christine's? Why, Jessie has a lot of children come to her part of the time; and Christine has a few children, and goes to them all the time. And Jessie has,—or will have when she's graduated and has a kindergarten of her own, as I daresay she will,—she has control of the children while they are with her, and can carry out her principles. The mothers even consult her sometimes.

But Christine has to carry out the mother's orders. She does what she is told—or ought to. No, Jessie never would be willing to take Mrs. MacAdoo's orders about the children. Mrs. MacAdoo is exceptionally stupid about children, I do think. She doesn't think Christine's telling them stories about things to frighten them is any harm,—says they'll outgrow it. And anybody who knows anything of infant psychology knows how dangerous it is to frighten children. And yet, of course, to be perfectly fair, I wouldn't want a nurse-maid to dictate to me about my child. It is out of the question—absolutely. Why, it would destroy the mother's influence and authority altogether! And—come to think of it—I suppose a trained nurse-maid would have views of her own, and they might conflict with the mother's—

Now, where I have got to so far,—it is beautiful, thinking things out clearly,—we want our children taken care of by ladies, honourable, intelligent, educated, refined, and specially trained for the business. I'm quite certain about that. Like Jessie, for instance. She is just born for it,—always did love children, and knew how to manage them from the time she was a little girl. And she's studying all the science of it and practising in the kindergarten,—on the same kind of children, too. Jessie is the ideal. It is really wonderful to see her with them. They love her, and they do what she says, too; but she never seems to be making them do anything: they just do it. Those MacAdoos behave very much better with her than they do with their mother. I believe most of the children do, for that matter. Except little Cassie Wells. She has the most devoted mother I ever saw. It is a lesson to us all. She never lets her out of her sight, I do believe. Often comes to the kindergarten, just to be with her. And, you see, Cassie just depends on her for everything; and nobody else can do anything with her. It is beautiful,—such absolute dependence and absorption. Yes, as I said, Jessie is the ideal. But, then, Jessie is not a nurse-maid, and never would be.