“Mentally Deaf” Children by Mrs. I. H. E.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Sep 30, 1915

“Mentally Deaf” Children

By Mrs. I. H. E.

Most of us have felt a throb of sympathy for the little lad who, when asked his name, replied that it was “Tommy Don’t.” As long as he could remember, “Tommy Don’t” had been the form of address most often used to gain his attention.

“Tommy Don’t,” “Rebecca Don’t,” “Harold Don’t,”—they’re a large family, the “Don’ts,” and we know them well. Sorry little figures in the realm of childhood are the junior Don’ts—wayward and willful, inattentive, and often apparently openly disobedient. Judging superficially, we feel justified in saying that they need reproof quite as often as they receive it. But should we not avoid superficial judgment? More careful observation will often show that the great mass of admonition and correction falling constantly on the child’s ears, instead of leading him to do better, has had the result of causing him to assume the unconscious defense of mental deafness. By the simple device of not hearing, unless some special note in the words spoken warns him that this time mother is in earnest, he continues carrying out his little plans, with just enough pause to satisfy the letter of the law. It does not take long to reach the place where he really does not hear.

We are quite familiar with this principle. The great mass of New York City dwellers endure without a protest the roar of the “L,” and the thousand and one other sounds that bewilder and terrify the unaccustomed. Those who live near railway tracks seldom notice the passing trains. In the Navy Yard in Washington the workmen are apparently oblivious to the tumult that deafens the visitor.

In American Motherhood for September, Carolyn Sherwin Bailey relates the following incident to show how one who loves and understands children set about the task of changing a small lad afflicted with the malady referred to, into a “hearing,” obedient child:—

“A little boy came to one of the beautiful children’s houses in New York City, unable to obey even the most simple directions put to him by the director. He was an alert, perfectly normal, physically sound little chap; and when he had finished looking over and naming a box of brightly colored pictures of fruits and flowers, the director said: ‘Put the box away in the cupboard, John.’

“The boy looked at her, smiling, his big hazel eyes wide open as they met hers. He seemed to understand, and he started across the room from his low, white table to the white shelves of the material cupboard, where other little ones were busily putting away their pictures and color spools and blocks. John stopped halfway, however, set down his box, and began talking to one of the other children. The director softly but firmly repeated: ‘Put the box away in the cupboard, John.’

“John started, smiled his assent, picked up the box of pictures, and again started. A few steps on, though, he set down the box, and looked out of the window. The director repeated her request patiently, persistently, seven times. The seventh attempt of the little boy to follow a consecutive line of thought was successful. He reached the shelves with his pictures, put them in their place, and fairly leaped into the arms of the director, so deep was his joy at this conquest of himself.

“‘Is John a naughty boy?’ asked an interested observer of the director.

“‘No, indeed,’ she smiled back.

“‘Is he weak-willed?’ queried another.

“‘John has a splendid will,’ was her reply.

“‘Then, why—’

“‘The director answered with a sympathetic understanding: ‘John is mentally deaf. From the time he was old enough to walk, his mother has confused him with such a discord of “don’ts” and “do’s” that the child’s mind has not grasped them. She seldom insisted upon his minding, and gradually John developed this mental deafness. He heard with his “outward ears” what I told him to do, but his brain did not respond in action.’

“‘How will you overcome this condition?’ was the next question.

“‘As I did just now,’ the director explained. ‘I shall lay but few commands upon the little boy, only those that affect his own moral welfare and conduct, and the good of the other children. Then I shall repeat the directions until John learns to hear, and learns, also, to follow his recognition of the command with obedience. In a few weeks John will be a changed boy.’”

“Few commands, and those few obeyed,” is a golden rule for mothers. If you have forgotten how hard rules are to keep, try keeping this one. Not many mothers but will be honestly surprised at the number and minuteness of the directions they lay down each day for the children to follow, and by which they are often adjudged “good” or “bad.”

Little wonder the little folks acquire mental deafness, which is only the first step in the path that may lead them later to throw off all parental control at some crucial moment. Such is often the fruit of too frequent and severe restraint in trifles that really do not matter, so far as the development of the child’s character is concerned.

MRS. I. H. E.