Teach the Children to Decide

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Aug 26, 1915

Teach the Children to Decide

“WHICH will you have, David?” said my great-aunt Debbie, holding out to me a plate on which lay a small frosted cake with curlicues of coconut scattered over it, and a gingerbread man.

“Why — why — I don’t know,” I said, hovering over the plate.

“Don’t touch,” said Aunt Debbie, “until you have chosen.”

“I like them both so much,” I sighed.

At home this would have been a signal for a fond smile, and, “Well, take them both, my dear,” from the too-indulgent Aunt Julia, who had charge of me. But Aunt Debbie said nothing of the sort. She waited another moment and then said, “Choose now, David. You must not shilly-shally.”

“Oh, Aunt Debbie, I can’t choose. I guess I like the frosted one best, but the man is so funny. I don’t know which one.”

“Very well; I will put them both back in the cupboard.”

That was pretty sharp treatment. I can remember yet the friendless feeling I had when that plate disappeared in the cupboard. But it was what I needed. I suppose I was naturally undecided, always changing from this to that, and then wondering if I hadn’t better change back. My home training had accented my fault. I was in the sole charge of a childless aunt, who centered all her affection on me. When I couldn’t choose, she gave me both, if she could, or at any rate she waited through all my indecision and let me change back as often as I wished. Aunt Debbie must have seen this trait very early in my visit, and set out to cure it.

About an hour later, she took the plate from the shelf again. This time I took the gingerbread man without an instant’s hesitation. I might wish later that I had taken the frosted cake, but certainly either of them was better than none.

Many times during that summer’s visit Aunt Debbie presented articles for my choice, with the injunction, “Choose now, David. Don’t shilly-shally. You’ll never be anything if you do. Remember old Rem Lawkins; couldn’t make up his mind whether to put corn or potatoes in the river lot, and so he didn’t put in anything, and it’s all gone to weeds.”

She gave me other examples of indecision, but I remember old Rem, for I had seen the field, and had had the shambling old man pointed out to me.

I learned to choose while at Aunt Debbie’s. Indeed, she impressed the matter upon me so well that I think she cured me of indecision. I never could shilly-shally again without thinking of her admonitions. I learned to weigh things as well as I could, and then to choose promptly and stick to it. I never could have succeeded as I did in my business if I had not overcome that youthful indecision. Of course, I’ve chosen wrongly sometimes. That is inevitable, and it is part of one’s education.

All who have anything to do with the training of children should realize that indecision is a weakness. It should be worked out of the child character as surely as should a loose idea of honesty or an uncontrollable temper. Vacillation sets a certain mark of failure upon an individual, no matter what the work he takes up. Only those able to choose promptly and definitely can do good work.

Every day is filled with opportunities to cultivate this needed decision. Child and parents must choose concerning a dozen small things daily: What shall we have for dinner? What color shall the new dress be? How shall it be made? Shall we go to the picnic or the concert? Would it be better to take a walk in the spare hour or sit down with a book? Which of two friends shall I invite next week? Which of two pictures shall I choose for my room? Which of the new books shall I buy, when I can have but one? What game shall we play?

Every hour such choices wait for us. Can we older ones choose promptly? Are we training the children, by both example and precept, to make a choice? — Selected.