Every Child Has a Talent

That was fifty years ago, and I myself was no more than a boy when I was appointed a teacher. I accepted the work because the salary was enough until I should find something better; but these little ones took hold of my feelings from the very first, and what I learned from them from the first moment endeared the profession to me, and has kept me a teacher to this day.

I entered the classroom for the first time, and to ease the tension children feel on meeting a new teacher I opened with a joke and asked them what they supposed I would teach them. They named some subjects, and one small girl said: "And the science of things too." I asked her, "And what is the science of things?" She laughed, and they all laughed with pleasure and confidence, and the girl said: "It is about the parts of the body, like the bones and the blood and the stomach — and the intestines too." I broke in, saying, "Ah, I don't think I know much about those things," whereupon they burst into resounding laughter, overflowing with delight.

A teacher's head appeared at the door and she said: "Are you in trouble..?" I answered, "Of course not." She said, "I heard laughing..."

Afterward the children told me about the bad marks they used to receive when they behaved as badly as that, and then about the whippings they got at home in consequence. I said, "From today on, every one of you will receive the highest mark for conduct.." That sentence worked like magic, for this class became the best-behaved of all the classes. And that day I discovered the following rule: "To bring out the best that is in a child, stand at his side and fight with him against his oppressive habits. Thus we awaken the feelings of good in his soul."

The children took to gathering around my table after the lesson, and they would stay there until the school maid drove them off with her broom; and in these gatherings I discovered treasures of talent.

I found a boy who had invented a new method of addition: he could add a column of figures as fast as those figures could be spoken. And I found a girl who was forever drawing, here and there, and it pleases me today that I did not order her to stop those follies, for she has become a famous painter. And so on...

I discovered that not every child is a prodigy, but every child possesses a talent. Thousands of talents wait to be discovered: in the first of the class and in the laggards who wait for the hand to push them forward; in the slow ones who reach the summit at last; in those distracted from their school duties by collecting postage stamps; in those in love with drawing and ornament; in those inclined by nature to the running of a house; in the little inventor who becomes so absorbed in his work that he neglects his lessons; and in the skillful handler of machines, who needs a grown-up's appreciation and his protection from the snappings of the learned and of teachers.

I became convinced that someone must stand beside the little ones to watch over and cultivate the natural talents in them. It is not enough to recognize the native gift; you must quicken it and rouse it to come out, so as to guard it against the evil of perishing.

The first and most important thing to be done is to win the little one's confidence. Confidence in the doctor comes before his skill and his medicine.. And so I went on, cutting my way into the inner selves of children and their hopes; and so I worked until I found my way to a school that specialized in discovering hidden capacities and encouraging them; and so we set about watching the little ones in their holidays — watching not the bad traits we already knew, but the good qualities that show themselves more clearly at play.

I remember a boy of ten, shrunken and close-mouthed, whom his teacher considered dull. I watched him in a ball game: his words came in strings, abundant, strong, and decisive, and he always won the victory for his team. I asked him to write me a description of every ball game, and I made it a condition that what he wrote should be in his own simple, sweet language. I saw in him a natural boy who had shrunk into himself because of the roughness of those around him and their mockery; so I made him feel that his unpolished manner had its worth. Not two years had passed before his colloquial style turned into a fine and excellent style, and the boy who had been counted dull came to pass his examinations with ease. And so I came away with another conclusion: that encouragement is a refreshing force.

I have been asked many times how parents can discover their child's talents, and I have answered: by quiet observation. Leave the little one to his inclinations. Beware of thinking that you will make him what you want; think rather of how he is and what he is.. Set aside the displeased eye and the stern commands, and put in their place a quiet observation, as though this child were the son of other people.

I once told a mother that her boy had delivered me a lecture on the science of insects, and how he had a collection of beetles about which he had read a great deal. She asked me, "And how could you let him bother you so?" I said: yes, it was a bother, but a necessary one, for the child must find someone to share his pleasure if it is to stay alive.. And I watched that boy through his secondary studies, and there he was, shining as a clever member of the entomology club.

A famous author once wrote to me: "You were the inspiration of my childhood." And all I ever did for him was to accept the pieces he wrote. I offered him no advice, nor did I hamper his early production with a single word — there was time enough for that; what he needed then was encouragement.

The best time to observe the little ones is when they are far from observation: during play, on their outings in the open country, at their own parties, in the hours of ordinary home life. Here talents come out unselfishly. And I believe that children's joining scout troops, or any other school organizations, ought to please parents as much as their earning high school marks pleases them; for these many fields of activity give their precious talents the opportunity to appear.

Most mothers have found that the best time for listening to the little ones is before sleep, because they then become most eager that others should share the hopes and imaginings and dreams that leap up from within their hearts. And the wise parents observe in silence, and help in silence.

The little one's wish may be the stringing together of words, or the piling up of stones, or the pulling down of a house to search for a secret in the chimney. Whatever this wish may be, listen, and let it develop.

It is hard to learn to listen — even to your own child; but the magic of the game is worth the effort.