DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Dorothy Schramm newspaper clippings, 1949-1955 (folder 1 of 2) | Women's Home Companion Article: "How Minneapolis Beat The Bigots" Page 10

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Dorothy Schramm newspaper clippings, 1949-1955 (folder 1 of 2)

Women's Home Companion Article: "How Minneapolis Beat The Bigots" Page 10

[[Header in bold]]
DO THE CHILDREN
[[end header and bold]]
[[Italics]]
Even small children must come to grips with the problem of death--and they need our help[[end italics]]

BY MARGUERITA RUDOLPH

[[bold]]"Another crash! Seventeen killed!"[[end bold]] Small Bruce, aged five, hears his father's exclamation as he unfolds the morning paper. "But how did the people die?" Bruce asks. Hastily his mother changes the subject and Dad, turning the page, calls Bruce's attention to a picture of a polar bear. Bruce pretends interest but inwardly he concludes, "Dying is very bad. Even my parents can't talk about it" -- and he feels frightened.
But children can't really be put off with pleasantries and evasions. For all their good spirits they are aware too that there is another side to life full of dark abysses and unsolved mysteries. Struggling to understand, they depend on grownups to help them; sensitive to atmosphere, they are quick to read people's faces. When those around them are troubled or sad, they are troubled too. Their anxiety is greater when, in answer to queries, they meet "no admittance" signs or feel repelled by matter-of-factness that's clearly false.
[[bold]]A group of four-year-olds[[end bold]] were at nursery school when death came to a little girls who was one of their number. All the parents in the neighborhood were deeply affected. It might have been mine, though each one and in their anguish their first impulse was to protect their own youngsters from the thought--it might have been me! So the parents struggled with the problem of what to say, sensing that even the four-year-olds had wind of something, knew too that the something was important to them. At this moment, their teacher at nursery school came to their aid by doing her part of a task in which the parents' responsibility was even greater.
When the children came to school, they were greeted as usual and the teacher waited until they settled down to the regular routines. One group sat at a table making designs with construction paper; others busied themselves with block building; two children went into the housekeeping corner to play house and still another began painting at the easel. The teacher was quiet awhile, watching the children planning on how she could best be of help. She sat down among them and began checking the daily attendance sheet. One child asked, "Who's missing today?"
And the teacher answered, "Maybe you can tell me."
Several children contributed the names of absent children but--very significantly--no one mentioned the child who had died. The the teacher said, "But none of you mentions another child who is missing today. perhaps some of you know."
In response, a number of children looked up quickly with intent faces and one of them said, "Rachel is missing."
"Yes," said the teacher with her unusual quiet manner, "Rachel isn't here because something very sad and very unusual happened to her."
"What happened to Rachel?" the child asked--and her face was flushed. The quiet answer the children heard was: "Rachel died--last Monday."
Somehow all the children, even scattered throughout the room as they were and apparently occupied with their tasks, heard clearly and seemed to sense that something of great importance had been said. yet they continued their work.
But presently the atmosphere grew heavy with feeling, charged with weighty thoughts. And then, as the teacher had hoped, the children began to wrestle with the problem and to express what was on their minds.
"Why did Rachel die?" several children wanted to know and the teacher answered that Rachel had a sickness that children almost never get and the doctor hadn't been able to maker her well. The teacher assured them they would not get this sickness.
But the children were only partly satisfied, for they repeated the question and kept on offering their own ideas on the causes of death in general. This is what the teacher wanted for she knew it would help them to say all they were thinking.
"My turtle died because we didn't feed her."
"We had a little dog and he ate some poison and he died."
"Maybe somebody shot her," said one child and another answered, "But nobody would shoot a little child." The children also mentioned swallowing nickels and buttons as probable causes of death. this was followed by some anecdotes of the reappearance of swallowed objects and the teacher assured them that these events would not cause death. With the realism characteristic of healthy childhood, they continued searching for facts and for the concrete cause of death.
After the "why" of death there
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98 October 1951

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[[Header in bold]] DO THE CHILDREN [[end header and bold]] [[Italics]] Even small children must come to grips with the problem of death--and they need our help[[end italics]] BY MARGUERITA RUDOLPH [[bold]]"Another crash! Seventeen killed!"[[end bold]] Small Bruce, aged five, hears his father's exclamation as he unfolds the morning paper. "But how did the people die?" Bruce asks. Hastily his mother changes the subject and Dad, turning the page, calls Bruce's attention to a picture of a polar bear. Bruce pretends interest but inwardly he concludes, "Dying is very bad. Even my parents can't talk about it" -- and he feels frightened. But children can't really be put off with pleasantries and evasions. For all their good spirits they are aware too that there is another side to life full of dark abysses and unsolved mysteries. Struggling to understand, they depend on grownups to help them; sensitive to atmosphere, they are quick to read people's faces. When those around them are troubled or sad, they are troubled too. Their anxiety is greater when, in answer to queries, they meet "no admittance" signs or feel repelled by matter-of-factness that's clearly false. [[bold]]A group of four-year-olds[[end bold]] were at nursery school when death came to a little girls who was one of their number. All the parents in the neighborhood were deeply affected. It might have been mine, though each one and in their anguish their first impulse was to protect their own youngsters from the thought--it might have been me! So the parents struggled with the problem of what to say, sensing that even the four-year-olds had wind of something, knew too that the something was important to them. At this moment, their teacher at nursery school came to their aid by doing her part of a task in which the parents' responsibility was even greater. When the children came to school, they were greeted as usual and the teacher waited until they settled down to the regular routines. One group sat at a table making designs with construction paper; others busied themselves with block building; two children went into the housekeeping corner to play house and still another began painting at the easel. The teacher was quiet awhile, watching the children planning on how she could best be of help. She sat down among them and began checking the daily attendance sheet. One child asked, "Who's missing today?" And the teacher answered, "Maybe you can tell me." Several children contributed the names of absent children but--very significantly--no one mentioned the child who had died. The the teacher said, "But none of you mentions another child who is missing today. perhaps some of you know." In response, a number of children looked up quickly with intent faces and one of them said, "Rachel is missing." "Yes," said the teacher with her unusual quiet manner, "Rachel isn't here because something very sad and very unusual happened to her." "What happened to Rachel?" the child asked--and her face was flushed. The quiet answer the children heard was: "Rachel died--last Monday." Somehow all the children, even scattered throughout the room as they were and apparently occupied with their tasks, heard clearly and seemed to sense that something of great importance had been said. yet they continued their work. But presently the atmosphere grew heavy with feeling, charged with weighty thoughts. And then, as the teacher had hoped, the children began to wrestle with the problem and to express what was on their minds. "Why did Rachel die?" several children wanted to know and the teacher answered that Rachel had a sickness that children almost never get and the doctor hadn't been able to maker her well. The teacher assured them they would not get this sickness. But the children were only partly satisfied, for they repeated the question and kept on offering their own ideas on the causes of death in general. This is what the teacher wanted for she knew it would help them to say all they were thinking. "My turtle died because we didn't feed her." "We had a little dog and he ate some poison and he died." "Maybe somebody shot her," said one child and another answered, "But nobody would shoot a little child." The children also mentioned swallowing nickels and buttons as probable causes of death. this was followed by some anecdotes of the reappearance of swallowed objects and the teacher assured them that these events would not cause death. With the realism characteristic of healthy childhood, they continued searching for facts and for the concrete cause of death. After the "why" of death there [[Bottom of page]] 98 October 1951