of getting a place in the school Eleven. He is
probably much envied by those of the same age who,
with the aid of their youthful aspect, can still occasionally
extract compensation by inducing the railway company
to let them travel to school at half fare. But
with girls it is different. Many at fourteen
or fifteen are children still; some are grown up, with
the tastes, feelings, and attraction of maturity.
Those who have developed fastest are often, for that
very reason, kept backward in school learning.
Often they are nervously the least stable. Now
that large schools for girls on the model of our public
schools are become the fashion, such precociously
developed and nervously unstable girls are apt to
find themselves in the very uncongenial society of
little girls of twelve or thirteen. The elder
girls commonly hold aloof, while mistresses are apt
to view this precocious development with disapproval,
and to attempt to retard what cannot be retarded by
insisting that the young woman has remained a child.
I remember being called in consultation by a surgeon
who had been asked to operate for appendicitis upon
a girl of fourteen. I found a tall, well-grown
girl, with an appearance and manner that made her
look four years older. I could find no signs
of appendicitis, but I learned from her that she had
been for three months at a large girls’ school,
and that in a few days’ time her second term
was due to begin. As we became friends, she agreed
that her appendicitis and her resolve not to return
to school, where she was unhappy, were but different
ways of saying the same thing. She was an only
child who had travelled a great deal with her parents,
had found her interests in their pursuits, and had
grown backward in school work. The little girls
with whom she was expected to associate seemed to
her mere children. The elder girls did not want
her friendship, and snubbed her. I prescribed
a change to a small boarding-school with only a few
girls, where age differences would not matter so much,
and where she could make friends with girls older than
herself, though not more mature.
Into their school life we need not follow the children.
Happily the time is past when schoolmasters and schoolmistresses
were incapable of understanding their charges, and
confounded nervous exhaustion with stupidity or timidity
with incapacity.
And so we come back to the point from which we started:
The nervous infant, restless, wriggling, and constantly
crying! The nervous child, unstable, suggestible,
passionate, and full of nameless fears! The nervous
schoolboy or schoolgirl prone to self-analysis, subject-conscious,
and easily exhausted! And how many and how various
are the manifestations of this temperament! Refusal
of food, refusal of sleep, negativism, irritability,
and violent fits of temper, vomiting, diarrhoea, morbid
flushing and blushing, habit spasms, phobias—all
controlled not by reproof or by medicine, but by good
management and a clear understanding of their nature.