Handicaps of Childhood

by H. Addington Bruce

Occasionally sulkiness results from some special form of nervous disease. It may be an initial symptom of that strange malady of childhood, chorea. A child affected with chorea is restless, uneasy, and weak in muscular control. Muscles of the face twitch, the child has difficulty in using his hands, and, in later stages of the disease, the arms and legs make random, involuntary movements. In addition, just before or about the time the muscular weakness begins, there are sometimes signs of mental disturbance, described as follows by an authority on nervous diseases:

"These symptoms consist of a slight loss of memory and inability of the patients to apply themselves to their studies as well and continuously as formerly. Children who were previously of an obedient and mild disposition become irritable, obstinate, and perverse. They become insubordinate, lose their love of play, and are not as affectionate as was their wont. These phenomena are naturally looked upon as indubitable evidences of wilfulness, and are punished accordingly, thus frequently precipitating and aggravating the course of the disease."

Happily, sulkiness, as an early symptom of chorea, or of other grave nervous and mental disorders, is of comparatively infrequent occurrence. The things the parents of a sulky child need more particularly to inquire into are the amount and character of the food the child eats, the state of his digestion, his habits of exercise, the ventilation of the rooms in which he spends most of his time, the condition of his nose, mouth, and teeth, and his ability to see and hear distinctly. But it must be admitted that any or all of these common physical causes of sulkiness may be present, and the afflicted child nevertheless contrive to get along without sulking. And, on the opposite, when a child thus afflicted does sulk, the correction of the physical trouble is not always followed by a cessation of the sulkiness. For, precisely as in the case of the child who remains mentally backward after the correction of bodily defects responsible for his backwardness, it may be that a habit of sulking has become established. What is much worse, it may also be that the sulky child has a home environment that makes sulking almost inevitable.

Here we come to the central fact in the whole problem of sulkiness, for, nine cases out of ten, it is the home environment—the training a child receives, the parents' attitude towards him—that is primarily responsible for his sulking. The healthiest child in the world will sulk if his parents surround him with a sulk-breeding environment. He will sulk because it is child nature to react appropriately to the suggestions received from the environment. Every psychologist will bear out this statement. It also finds confirmation in the everyday experiences of all observant persons who have an opportunity to study children. It is all very well to exhort a child to be cheerful, to speak of "developing his will-power." But if the child's home surroundings are such as to fill his mind with depressing, disturbing ideas, he is bound to be influenced in his behaviour by these ideas. Parents are prone to forget this. They blame the sulky child when, in all justice, they ought to blame themselves.

Recently a veteran New England school teacher, talking with me on this question of sulkiness, said:

"There are times when I am tempted to believe that the home influence is everything, and that conditions of physical ill health have virtually nothing to do with sulkiness. Of course, I know that in reality physical conditions have to be taken into account, but my experiences with sulky children have been such that now, whenever I find a sulky child, I ask myself the question, 'What is wrong in that child's home?' If I have opportunity to investigate, I invariably find that something is wrong.

"My pupils are girls, eight and nine years old. Among them last year was one bright, attractive-looking little girl, to whom I felt drawn when she first appeared in the class. But I soon discovered that she was a difficult child. She neglected her school work, did in a careless, indifferent manner whatever she was obliged to do, and sulked at slight provocation. She had been examined by the school physician, who gave her a clean bill of health. My suspicion deepened that the child was the victim of an unfavourable home influence, and one day I suggested this to the principal of the school.

"'I am sure you are wrong,' said he. 'I happen to know the family. They are first-rate people, in good circumstances.'

"A little later, after I had again spoken to him of the girl's misconduct and sullenness, he told me: