No date or title: Ursula Wise shares her thoughts about parental separation and domestic violence.

Undated and untitled - found  typed in Susan Isaacs's archive. 

"Unlucky Nanny" writes: “I have been helped with lots of nursery problems by your advice to others, but have never seen this question asked: How can one best help a little child who often sees her parents quarrel, and even strike each other? Nine months ago I had a breakdown, and was advised not to go back to the post I was in, because the domestic upheavals were worrying me. I had charge of a little girl who I loved very dearly, and still do. Her parents were very unhappy together, and as she was two years old, she was beginning to get very worried and upset. She is living with her mother now, but when I last visited them was always asking for her Daddy. Now my present little charge has had the experience of her mother leaving her, but she is back again now, and they seem quite unhappy. How can I help the little girl if there is trouble again? She is two.”    

            This is surely the most difficult problem which a child’s nurse can have to face. She cannot alter the primary situation and cannot, in fact, do a great deal to help the child face the central emotional difficulties aroused by quarrels and division between the parents. But she can do something, and that something is quite real. If she herself is stable and loving and wise in handling the child, she can help the child to go on believing that there are stable and secure people in the world, even though the most important people in it are so frightening and unhelpful. it is not surprising that “Unlucky Nanny” herself had a breakdown, if she saw the parents of her little charge in actual physical violence, as well as quarrels. In the present case the situation does not seem so acute, and Nanny may have more opportunity of being real use to the little child. One very important service which a nurse can render to a child in such an unhappy situation is by avoiding a tendency to exploit it for her own satisfaction. it would be very natural and easy to slip into an attitude that implied, “See how bad your parents are, and see what a nice and loving person I am.” To some extent the child is bound to feel like this, since indeed it will have some objective truth, but it would be very bad for the child if the nurse was to exploit this for the sake of getting extra admiration and affection from the child. This can be so easily done in subtle ways without ever being put into words. But it would not help the child so much as a large and tolerant sympathy, that would avoid condemnation of the parents whilst yet being a stable and secure refuge for the child. I am sure this sounds as if I were asking the nurse in such a home to be a marvel of wisdom and self-control, and I appreciate how hard it must be. And yet it is true that this is a very important aspect of the problem; and if ‘Unlucky Nanny” wants to help her little charge, she should be alive to the risk of (only too naturally and unwisely slipping into the way of attaching the child too much to herself and turning her against the unhappy parents. Nevertheless, of course, she must give steady affection and real sympathy and understanding. She must show the child that she understands the latter’s fears and anxieties about the division between the parents. She can do this by a large, tolerant sympathy and a perfectly steady attitude of affection on her own part. She should avoid any mere indulgence of the child. Her handling should be firm and quiet whilst yet unshakeably loving.

Instant Obedience, 1931: Ursula Wise questions the desire for instant obedience and shares her thoughts on the giving of praise .

September 11th, 1935 in The Nursery World

Instant obedience

Instant obedience is only given by a child to a parent on the basis of trust and confidence built up by experience

“Well-meaning” writes: “Having frequently admired the wisdom of your published replies to readers I venture to ask your opinion on the question whether it is desirable, and if so by what methods, to aim at being able to secure ‘instant obedience’ before a child is old enough to understand the principle underlying its necessity. My little girl, not quite two, is as obedient as a strong-willed child who is keenly interested in what she is doing at the moment can be expected to be, but she is quite capable of assuming complete deafness, or reiterating a determined, ‘No’, or just running away if told to come here, or to put something down. Relatives tell me that she is too young to be expected to obey, and advocate the – to my mind - lazy and useless method of distracting her attention. My own view is that while obtaining her obedience by distracting her attention is a useful resource when she is tired, or when there are special reasons for avoiding a scene, it does not teach her anything, and that suitable opportunities should be frequently taken for training her to obey as a conscious act. Surely life is too dangerous for a child who will not obey a sudden order without first having some distraction provided. She might be electrocuted in the interval. I should be most interested to hear your views as to whether one should wait until a child is old enough for argument before attempting to teach it obedience. If you agree that the process can be begun as soon as the child unmistakably understands what is said to it (my child talks fluently and has a good memory), what steps do you recommend for securing obedience, in addition to the obvious one of limiting the frequency of one’s ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’? Is a mild slap on the hand that persists in touching the forbidden object a very mistaken method? Sometimes I can see no other way of preventing the child from thinking; ‘Mother goes on sayin,g “Don’t touch,” but nothing seems to happen if I do.” Is it a psychological fact that at barely two a child may forget a repeated command within a few seconds? My little girl’s persistence in picking flowers in the garden (though I always give her some for herself whenever she shows the slightest sign of wanting them) suggests that it must be so. Sometimes I wonder if it is just that the fascination is so great that she simply cannot desist, though she knows must not pick. If that is so, how can I deal with it? Picking flowers for her and allowing her to pick for herself in certain places do not meet the case. It is not that I attach such importance to the devastation of my garden, but that I feel the problem is probably typical of others that we shall have to face. In case it is relevant, I had better mention that the child has the very hopeful characteristic of being more obedient if I leave her for a moment or two rather than if I am present. She will remain glued to a chair if I tell her not to get down til I come back, though, of course, I never strain this virtue too far. Another small point: I have always been lavish with praise when it has been earned, and now K. is beginning to pat herself on the back in a way that is amusing, but might become intolerable in time. ‘Kitty’s a kind girl to bring that flower to show Mother.’ ‘Good girl not to drop that parcel.’ ‘Brave Kitty not to cry.’ Such phrases as these are sometimes reiterated in tones of indescribable smugness, but provided it passes off, don’t you think it is preferable to the sullen defensiveness of the child who imagines that people only comment on its behaviour in order to condemn? If you think I have been overdoing encouragement, I should like to be told. I shall await your views on the subject of obedience with great interest.”

Instant obedience is only given by a child to a parent on the basis of trust and confidence, built up by experience. One can, of course, enforce it by fear. That is to say, one can stir up so much fear in many children that they will obey as long as the feared grown-up is present, although this has very little bearing upon what they will do when there is no risk of being found out. That, however, is not the situation which you desire. The instant obedience which is based upon love and trust cannot be secured by our merely willing it to happen, nor is it possible for many children to give during the first two or three years. It can be given by a child of four or five, who has learnt that his parents will not demand it without good reason. Two years of age is very rarely a period when a child can obey. Occasionally a child has such a naturally docile temperament that she will obey at any age, but this is not very usual, and not necessarily the most desirable attitude of mind. Any child who is going to be independent and forceful and resourceful in later life is certain to show a phase of obstinacy and contrariness in the second and third years, and your little girl is behaving quite typically when she resists your demands if you interfere with her pursuits of the moment. We cannot hope to train tiny children to the virtues of later childhood, and we shall only waste our time and exasperate ourselves and them if we try to do so. It needs real supervision by the adult and appropriate planning of the environment to keep the child of two years, or even three or four, safe. And it is quite useless to imagine that one can ensure this safety by mechanical obedience from the child. But surely you are exaggerating the dangers? In ordinary circumstances, how is a child of two to get electrocuted?

Learning to tell the truth and what to say about death, 1931: Ursual Wise advises on dealing with continuous lies , as well as the subject of children's questions about death.

February 25^th, 1931 in The Nursery World

Learning to tell the truth

David, aged four, is very imaginative. If he has done anything naughty he tells a story of a little boy or girl who came in through the window and did these things

“D. R. H.” writes: “I read your pages in ‘The Nursery World’ with the greatest interest, and I wonder whether you would some time discuss two questions I am up against with my small charge just now. I am an infant-trained nurse, and David has just outgrown my knowledge and experience, and I am having to feel my way into tackling new problems. He is four years old, and I am staying on to look after a delicate little sister. David is a jolly, very sensible little boy, but has always been very highly strung, and is suddenly frightened of unexpected things, such as blind man’s buff at a party, or the noise of air in hot water pipes. He is at the very imaginative age now, and has just started ‘telling lies’ – chiefly entirely imaginative ones. If you ask him if ‘so-and-so’ was at a party, he will say, ‘Yes,’ and tell you a whole long story of their doings, and perhaps afterwards you find that she was not there at all. Also, if he has done anything naughty (such as removing all the buttons from pyjamas, etc.), he will come and tell me of a little girl or boy who came in through the window and did these things.

“A little while ago, if I listened and smiled, and then said at the end, ‘Now tell me what really happened; think a minute and then tell me,’ he would say, ‘David did it.’ But now he sticks to his story through thick and thin. So I never ask him if he did a thing or not. Once I found an empty bottle of sweets and asked him if he had eaten them all. He said, ‘No, I haven’t eaten one.’ So I said, “What have you done with them?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he said. I suggested, ‘Have you given them away?’ ‘Yes,” he said, ‘I gave some to mummy ,’ etc., going through everyone in the house . I left it at that, finding out that no one had been given a sweet. Later I found the sweets, which had not been eaten, stored away in a corner. So it seems to me he has no idea of ‘facts’ at all one moment. And therefore, that the only thing to do is to ‘keep off the grass’ and hope the phase will pass, as I have watched many other difficult phases pass, by being ignored. But also I am wondering how best to give him an idea of being trustworthy – something towards which he can grow as he passes through the phase. And also I would like to know whether I am right in just leaving the subject open for a bit.

“The other question I would like to ask is how to describe death to a child of four years? David always asks me what a graveyard is when we pass, and is dreadfully upset if anything gets run over and killed. He is obviously worrying about it all, and I want to give as happy as possible a reason. So far I have told him that when people get ill or very old and tired Jesus takes them away with Him and makes them better, and when we haven’t them here any longer with us, we sometimes make little gardens for them by the church, and out flowers and their names to remember them by. But this I feel is inadequate. I have never seen either of these subjects discussed in your pages, and I don’t think I can have missed them, as I always find it the most absorbing part of ‘The Nursery World.’ I shall be so glad if you can give me ideas. Following your advice to others, we came very successfully through the advent of the little baby sister, who is a pet of all the household, but most of all David’s pet. They are the most devoted little brother and sister. She is as placid as he is highly strung, and will be a great help to him, I think.”

Yes, I certainly think that the best way to deal with these imaginative lies is to leave them entirely alone. They are quite common at this age, and are pretty certain to die away if no notice is taken of them. And you are quite right in feeling that it is best to avoid the sort of questioning that leads to the lying, as the child is so much on the defensive against either real things or imaginary naughtiness, that he cannot be properly clear about what the truth is, nor dare to tell it. The best help you can give him towards learning to tell the truth is his actual experience of your own truthfulness and trustworthiness. But in addition there is no reason why you should not make some cheerful suggestion to the effect that it is best for little children always to say it is true, because then people can know best how to help them. And there is no reason why you should not enter into his stories about things, showing by your manner that you can enter into his imagination while yet being aware that is it only imagination. A tone of voice, a twinkle of the eye, an occasional use of the words “not really,’ without any preaching or pedantry are the best support to the little child’s feeble sense of reality.

The actual details you give about the behaviour of your little charge make it very clear that the whole content of his imaginative lies at the moment, as well as the dread of death, are bound up with his hidden anxiety about the birth of the little baby sister, which he had dealt with so successfully in his actual relation with her.

Going to School,1930: Ursula Wise advises against forcing a child either to work or play.

June 11th, 1930 in The Nursery World

Difficulties with the bright child and the nervous child 

       “Kim” writes: “Your articles are so helpful that I often feel I would like to have a good long talk you about our little boy. However, a letter is the next best thing. Paul is four and a half, not very big, but very ‘sharp’ and intelligent for his age. He has no brothers and sisters, and is intensely interested in figures and dates. Anything with numbers on attracts him instantly, and his favourite Christmas gift was a small calendar which he can change every day. He and it are inseparable. Before he was three he could count up to 99 and back to one without a mistake! Then one day he asked me what came next, and I told him 100. In a few days he could count to 199, and now he can count up to anything. A year ago, i.e.when he was three and a half, he could tell the time to a minute exactly, and by the time he was four he had taught himself to read and write (in block capitals) the date every day on his blackboard! He still does that, and, of course, can say and spell the days of the week and the months in their right order. I have never definitely taught him anything (except during the last few weeks the sounds of the letters). He knows the alphabet; but I have always answered his questions. 

            “But this is the most extraordinary thing – he likes to ask people when their birthdays are. On being told the date, he will tell them, after a few seconds’ consideration, the day on which that date will fall, even if it is six or none months ahead! Or if it has gone by six or nine months, or even a year ago! How does he do it? It seems almost uncanny, for he is always right. What shall we do about sending him to school? He hasn’t many little friends, unfortunately. I play with him and take him out as much as I can. He also attends a dancing class during the winter. How is one to know that a child of this kind is not being ‘forced’ at school in order to be a ‘credit to his form,’ etc., etc? 

            “Personally, I would like him to ‘run wild’ til he is seven, only I think more child companionship would be better for him. He is not very anxious to play with other children. He is full of fun, and loves a game with daddy in the evening before he goes to bed at 6.15. I was very interested in Dr. Cyril Burt’s ‘Intelligence Tests’ on the wireless the other evening. He said a child of eight, with ordinary intelligence, should be able to repeat five or six numbers easily without a mistake. Paul can repeat five numbers, but gets muddled with six. He can also reverse three numbers correctly. He is very fond of music, and loves his Nursery Rhyme records, all of which he can sing by heart. The tunes are not always ‘in tune,’ but the rhythm is right. He has always been happy and contented. Twice recently I have been a bit worried about his behaviour when other children have been here. Quite suddenly, for no apparent reason, he has refused to join in the games – nothing I do will make him. What ought I to do? Ignore it, or think of some suitable little punishment? Is it because he is no longer the centre of attraction? I have talked to him about it, so we shall see if it happens again, but in the meantime I should like your advice.”

            Your little boy is obviously quite unusually gifted in arithmetic, and must be well above the average level of intelligence all round. Intelligence of that order is very delightful to watch, especially when it goes along with health and fun and contentment. There is really no risk of the boy being “forced” at school, particularly in the early years. When the scholarship years come along, or in the senior years of school life, there is little more possibility of this; but it is never a serious risk with the really intelligent child. The children who do suffer from ‘forcing' are far more often those of a mere average ability, whose parents are too ambitious for them, or who are too over-ambitious themselves. They then have to over-work in order to make up for medium gifts; and the actual stress of desire to do well, and shame and disappointment if they do not, create a severe emotional strain. 

            But in the case of a child like your boy, he is certain to be ahead of the average for his age, all through his school career, without any particular effort. A child who can teach himself so much and so easily will not be unduly bothered by the demands which any reasonably good school will make of him. In fact, the real risk is that he will be bored in school. That does often happen with the abler children, unless the school knows how to keep ahead of their needs. Nevertheless, an early school life would be good for the boy, and solitary play, or too much adult companionship, is not very advisable. A school where plenty of games were played, and there was plenty of music and drama and handicrafts, would give the boy all the advantages of social life with other children, and the all-round mental fare would help to balance his special gifts in mathematics. 

            But it would be a mistake to scold or punish the boy because he does not always join freely in the games with other children. Forced play is no play at all, and has no social or educational value. If the boy does not want to join in any particular games, or on any particular day, there is no reason why he should not be just left out of it.

Nursery School Age,1934: Ursula Wise tells us about a good nursery as well as advice on handling two little ones very close in age.

August 8^th,1934 in The Nursery World

Nursery School Age

 “Another Beloved Mummy” writes: - “I was very interested in your reply to ‘Bothered’. With surprise I noted that her two-and-a-half-year-old kiddie goes to a nursery school. I understood that five years of age was school age.

            
“But what I am writing for mainly is to ask you a few hints on management of my two kiddies, one aged three and the other eighteen months. Whilst baby was younger, I managed with the help of a morning woman. Since baby walked, I have been obliged to keep a resident maid. Things are not much better now, as the children are so very troublesome. Baby is at the age when she wants everything she sees, even to three-and-a half-year-old’s toys. If the older child protests baby lies on the floor and screams. On the other hand, the older child takes everything away from the baby. They destroy everything I buy – plasticine, crayons, etc.,- until there’s nothing left. The older one is a perfect nuisance to take out as she worries me to buy her something from every toy shop we see (other shops too). They tease and quarrel with one another all day and seem bored stiff with a new toy after a few minutes with it. I have to keep sending them out in the pram with the girl while I write a letter or talk to Daddy. In spite of it all, if I part them (which is extremely inconvenient), baby keeps asking for ‘Deen’ (Doreen), and ‘Deen’ keeps wanting to go to baby. I may add they are definitely ‘wanted’ children and have every care and attention. Neither has been ill since they were born. They sleep in the same room and never quarrel there; ‘Deen’ pushes toys into a baby’s cot, etc. The older child used to fall asleep as soon as she was put to bed, but now it’s 8 p.m. and later by the time she goes off. She’s always begging me to stay with her. She has no day-time sleep either, and is getting very troublesome in the night, calling out and coming into our bedroom four or five times during the night. She seems to be so full of energy, yet she will not walk far. So, it means pushing two of them and they quarrel and push each other’s legs (pram is a large folder). Baby is put down to sleep (protesting vigorously) at 11.30 until 12.30. During that hour the older child hangs round the stove and sink stirring water and interfering with the cooking. She will not go away, being a very disobedient child. In desperation I tried to smack, which brings instant and obedience and promises to be good. But I do not want her to associate her mother with physical pain. She is very strong-willed and has always an answer ready! I must add that the older girlie has never shown any signs of jealousy. (We treat them alike). But baby seems very jealous and pushes the older child away, when she climbs on my knee. “

            Nursery schools are intended for children between two and five years of age. That is why they have this name. They are not schools in the ordinary sense, but much more in the nature of a good nursery, where they can have all the physical care and the happy play which they need at this age. Five years is the age for the ordinary kindergarten school, which is run on rather different lines, with definite teaching. The charges made by the different nursery schools vary, and I cannot quote any general fee; but if you want to find out whether there is a nursery school available in your neighbourhood, it would be best to write to The Secretary of The Nursery Schools Association, 29, Tavistock Square, London. WC1 who would certainly be able to give you this information. It seems to me very likely that your elder little girl would benefit from a nursery school life. On the other hand, the younger child would be lonely without her, and it might perhaps be better to wait for another year until they could go together. 

            It is not easy for me to tell quite what has gone wrong in your handling of the two children, but it certainly sounds as if there were something in the general atmosphere which led them to be unusually destructive and quarrelsome. I wonder whether you could possibly arrange to give them a definite period, even if it were only one hour during the morning when you could devote yourself entirely to them for play and companionship? It may be that they feel that they are always in the background, and never have you to themselves free from household worries. It might be very helpful to stay with your elder for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after she is in bed, talking in a friendly way and telling little stories. You will see in my reply to another letter how useful this can be in settling the child down and letting her feel secure in the friendly interest of the mother. 

            And when the older child comes round the stove and the sink, couldn’t you let her actually help you instead of treating it as naughtiness? Lots of little children of this age can really help with the washing up or the drying. If you gave her a table of the right height and a bowl of water and a towel, she could wash the cups and saucers and spoons quite satisfactorily. It is obvious that she is very interested in your activities and wants you to share them. It is a great pity to treat this as naughtiness, since it is a most desirable attitude in the child, and one that can be made use of in her training. Let her do a little cooking of her own when you are doing it, giving her a piece of pastry to roll or even letting her mix a little cake of her own. It is surprising what little children can do on these lines if they are helped, and even if they do not achieve very much, it means to them understanding and friendly interest on the part of the mother, and this makes a world of difference to the child. It is in this direction that I think the source of your trouble lies. The child must feel that you are always wanting to push her away and make her play by herself, when what she is really interested to do is to understand your activities and learn to share in them.  

Four Years Old, 1937 - Ursula Wise reassures a parent who is 'worrying unnecessarily' about her child's reluctance to play with other children.

January 13, 1937 in The Nursery World

Four years old 

A little girl who will not play with other children, although she is perfectly friendly with grown-ups is the subject of one of this week’s letters answered by Ursula Wise.

"M.C.” writes: “Do you consider this a problem, and if so how would you recommend me to solve it? My family consists of three – boys, nine and six and a girl, four. Before we went home on leave last March the little girl played happily with others, but I think possibly her brother of six, who is devoted to her, very often broke the ice for her. (The nine-year-old was at school in England and now the six-year-old has joined him.) In England we did not see many other children, but she was always ready to play with the boys, though they rather scorned her. She went through a very naughty and whiney stage till three-and-a-half, under an unsuitable, too devoted Nannie. She is now a really charming little girl, full of life, and mischief, but reasonable, obedient and popular with grown-ups. But she will not play with other children. She is perfectly happy with her Nannie or me, or other grown-ups, or even playing by herself, but if other children come, she clings to Nannie or me. Occasionally she is all right with older children, especially boys. A possible explanation is that when we were in England, I left her with her brothers in their very happy Nursery School, while my husband and I were staying with people. She was happy there, but I think occasionally felt the want of someone who was her own to look after. Also, I had not really explained to her that I was going away, and for some time afterwards she could not bear me out of her sight. Do you think it important that she should be encouraged to play with others when she is so much happier alone? Do you consider the that time will put an end to this phase? I could try leaving her alone with her little friends when they come, and this might ease things a bit. She is slightly shy with strange grown-ups on occasions, but very friendly normally, and everyone likes her. I fear children will not care for her if she refuses to play with them! If everything goes according to plan I shall not need to send her to boarding school till she is twelve, as we should be in England when she is six, for six years, so she has plenty of time to get over her shyness.” 

            

You are worrying unnecessarily about your little girl’s reluctance to play with other children. It seems quite understandable in all the circumstances of her history, and it often occurs at her age, even with children who have had a more ordinary life than your little girl has. I expect you are right in feeling that she is afraid of letting you go away for her, and probably she feels the loss of her brother very much indeed, and may be afraid to become warmly attached to any other child, since that, too, might lead to a similar loss. But the next two or three years should see a change in her attitudes in these respects especially if you do not try to force her to play with other children. I would give her plenty of opportunity, but would not urge or worry her about it. I would not even comment upon it and thus make her self-conscious. When you have little friends to play with her, play with them yourself, too. Give her the experience of playing with other children through your own companionship as bridge. When she goes to her day school in England she will probably make friendships naturally, and her development will fall on normal lines. 

Should a child of two learn to read, 1933: Ursual Wise shows us that the debate about how to learn to read is not new!

December 27, 1933 in The Nursery World

Should a child of two learn to read?

“K.L.K." writes: - “I should be most grateful for your advice about my small son aged 2 years and 6 months. Bill is a healthy, happy child, and has so far shown no signs of ‘nerves’ in any direction; he is forward for his age and quick to pick things up, but is nothing exceptional either mentally or physically. My problem is this: Does it matter his learning and frequently playing with a set of large, painted wooden letters, which were given him a month ago. He has never been taught the letters as a lesson, but by continually playing with the set during his ‘after-tea’ romp and asking which their names are , he now knows the entire alphabet, with three exceptions – but not , of course, in their correct order, and is starting to want to know how to make them into words. Do you consider that it would be ‘pushing’ him to encourage the word making – I do not mean exactly teaching him, but rather continuing the letter game a stage further. I do not know at what age it is usual for a child to know his letters. 

During July I took Bill and his sister, aged 1 year, to the sea with two older children, and during the time we were there – he was 2 years and 2 months then – he picked up, and took enormous pleasure in repeating ten nursery rhymes, usually without any hesitations or mistakes; but quite suddenly about a month after we came home gave this up completely, and I have no idea if they are forgotten or only tired of, and do not want to press the point. If you consider it a good thing for him to continue the letters and word making, I should be so glad of your advice as to how to prevent a repetition of the nursery rhyme ‘forgetfulness.’ He has picked the letters up without the smallest effort, and I do feel it would be such a pity to have to start really learning them in a year or so’s time. This problem has actually arisen with a friend’s child, aged four, who now has no idea of the letters with which he was familiar a year ago. I should be so interested to know what the normal 2 ½ year old is expected to know – letters, numbers and general knowledge. Bill has a small pedal car and when out with me in the real car, said, “My car goes with pedals, how do you make your car go, and why does it stop?” Which looks as if he is at the least beginning to do something in the way of thinking out problems for himself. He can ‘say’ numbers up to nine – I have no idea where he picked them up, but has no idea of really counting accurately, further than three. Also, a short time ago he bombarded me with questions about eggs – ‘Where do they come from?’ – and, ‘You say the chick-chick lays them, but does she make them?’ I replied ‘Yes, of course, she does,’ which satisfied him, and he has never mentioned it again; but I cannot help wondering how to cope with that problem too, as I feel he is far too young to understand any real explanations and I am so very much against the ‘gooseberry–bush’ method with such questions.”

The normally intelligent child of two and a half is not, as a rule, actively interested in letters, and very few children, indeed, at this age, have begun to learn letters. It does occasionally happen that a highly intelligent child begins to recognise words and to read simply at this age, but it is very rare. Where a child really wants to learn words he meets in the ordinary course of life, for example, names of shops, posters and advertisements, there is no reason why he should be stopped. But that is quite different from expecting children of two and a-half to know anything about letters. A great many educationalists would like to postpone any formal learning of reading until seven years of age, and it has been found that children who do not begin until then catch up perfectly well on others who have learnt very much earlier. One cannot lay down a general law. The view of the Consultative Committee of the Board of Education, as just stated in its Report on Infants’ and Nursery Schools, is that a child should be allowed to read whenever he wants to, whether that be three years of age or six years of age. We do not, however, need to feel that there is anything wrong with his not being able to read, at any rate until he is seven.