In order to
understand the evolution of popular thought regarding
the private and social duties of American mothers, it's helpful to
have an overview of how changing social and economic conditions have shaped
and reshaped our collective assessment of children's essential natures
and irreducible needs. There is perhaps no better or more inviting
introduction to this topic than Huck's Raft: A History of
American Childhood (Belknap Press, 2005). In a lively cross-cultural
survey spanning the Colonial Period to the Columbine High School
shootings, historian Steven Mintz reveals that for most of the nation's
history, the emotional and economic dependency of American children
was rarely cultivated -- and in the not-so-distant past, the kind
of child-centric family life so sought after by today's middle class
would have been discouraged as unhealthy and utterly bizarre.
The history of how white, African American, Native American and
immigrant children of all ages have lived, learned, worked and played
over the last 400 years is fascinating, and Huck's Raft is worth reading for the richness of detail alone. But the Mintz's
underlying objective is to tie his research to the larger framework
of the invention of childhood as we now know it. Childhood, he
writes, "is not an unchanging biological state of life but
is, rather, a social and cultural construct that has changed radically
over time. Every aspect of childhood -- including children's household
responsibilities, play, schooling, relationships with parents and
peers, and paths to adulthood -- has been transformed over the past
four centuries." Nor, Mintz notes, has there ever been a period
in our country's history when there was complete agreement about what
constitutes a "proper" childhood, or the extent to which
children should be shielded from the cares and responsibilities
of the adult world. The author also reminds us that -- just as with
motherhood and mothering -- at no point in time has childhood in
America been a uniform, or uniformly idyllic, experience. What is
most characteristic of American childhood in earlier centuries and today, Mintz explains, is its
tremendous diversity across race, gender, social class, religion,
and geography.
Rather than rolling out a lifeless timeline, Huck's Raft meanders its way through an engaging and enlightening narrative
in chapters describing childhood during the American Revolution,
African American children under slavery, the nineteenth century
"invention" of the modern middle-class child, the post-war pursuit of the perfect childhood,
and the 1960s Youthquake -- just to mention a few. Throughout the
book, Mintz flags cultural factors, social conditions and
economic shifts that gradually reduced American children's instrumentality
and opportunities for self-governance to an all-time low at the
end of the twentieth century.
The concept of childhood as an innocent and carefree phase to
be cherished and protected by adults has a fairly recent history,
and Huck's Raft examines how the constant redefinition
of childhood over time is linked to changing interpretations of
parental authority and responsibility. In this respect, Mintz agrees
with other family scholars and historians who theorize that as children's
economic value as household and paid laborers gradually declined
and mandatory school attendance became the norm, children's sentimental
value took on new meaning in family life and the culture at large.
This is not to suggest that parents of yore were indifferent to
their children (although by present-day standards, the child-rearing
methods favored by parents of past eras might seem dangerously neglectful
or even brutal). In fact, contemporary observers reported our foremothers
and fathers harbored uncommonly tender feelings toward their offspring
and deeply mourned their loss. But apart from their apparent devotion,
American parent's motives for investing material resources and cultural
training in their sons and daughters have altered dramatically over
the last four centuries, particularly since the advent of the industrial
revolution and the division of human labor into separate spheres
of public and private activity.
Mintz seems especially sensitive to the postmodern cultural construction
of adolescence and emerging adulthood as a period of extended dependency.
America's young, he insists, "have become more knowledgeable
sexually and in many other ways" and face more "adultlike
choices" than children of earlier generations. Yet, "contemporary
American society isolates and juvenilizes young people more than
ever before," providing teenagers with "few positive ways
to express their growing maturity and gives them few opportunities
to participate in socially valued activities." Mintz complains
that rather than allowing a vibrant youth culture to flourish, today's
adults are more likely to censor or co-opt it. He adds that
once upon a time in America, childhood was considered valuable in
and of itself as a kind of self-guided journey of discovery, rather than a lockstep
preparation for adulthood. Now, he remarks, "we expect even
very young children to exhibit a degree of self-control that few
adults had 200 or more years ago. Meanwhile, forms of behavior previous
generations considered normal are now defined as disabilities."
Furthermore, Mintz reports, "American society is unique in
its assumption that all young people should follow a unitary path
to adulthood."
While concerns over children's exposure to unwholesome cultural
influences -- and developmental and academic setbacks suffered by
kids who have either under- or over-involved parents -- have reached
a unusually fevered pitch of late, Mintz recognizes the present
state of agitation over the moral fitness and psychological adjustment
of young Americans as part of a longstanding pattern of recurrent
panics over children's well being. Periodically, such episodes of
heightened alarm have been related to actual threats to children's
health and welfare (as an example, the author cites public concern
over the spread of polio in the 1950s). But more often, Mintz asserts,
"children stand in for some other issue, and the panics are
a more metaphorical than representational, such as the panic over
teenage pregnancy, youth violence, and declining academic achievement
in the late 1970s and 1980s, which reflected pervasive fears about
family breakdown, crime, drugs, and America's declining competitiveness
in the world."
In other words, it's probably unwise to take reports of the national
"epidemic" of childhood obesity, "meth" babies,
mean girls and overscheduled children strictly at face value. While
there are undeniably subsets of American children -- those of the
urban poor, for example -- who remain at high risk for hardship
and failure, Mintz stresses that overall, the nation's young are
now safer, healthier, have more equal opportunities and a higher
standard of living than children of any previous generation. Yet
as a society, we remain beset by free-floating anxiety about children's
welfare, frantic that our kids aren't getting enough of the right
things (parental attention, moral guidance and constructive play)
and are soaking up too much of the wrong things (sex and violence
in popular media, junk food and materialism). We worry about child
abduction, sexual predators, and whether our infants and toddlers
are spending too much time in day care. As Mintz writes, "It
is not surprising that cultural anxieties are often displaced on
the young; unable to control the world around them, adults shift
their attention to that which they think they can control: the next
generation." In reality, the author argues, social problems
and cultural strains that threaten America's children cannot be
segregated from those affecting their parents: "Our society
tends to treat young people's problems separately from those of
adults, as if they were not interconnected phenomena."
Writers as diverse as Susan Douglas and Meredith Michaels (The
Mommy Myth), Janna Malamud Smith (A
Potent Spell) and Judith Warner (Perfect
Madness) have connected the dots between growing angst
over the supposed disintegration of American childhood and the escalating
demands of intensive mothering. Warner even goes so far as to suggest
that in certain affluent enclaves, intensive mothering has become
something of a competitive sport. The days when average middle-class
parents were proud to have above-average children seem to be over
and done with; in a winner-take-all society, nothing less than a
"winner" will do. And the myth of maternal omnipotence
-- still alive and kicking since the dawn of Republican Motherhood
in the late 1700s -- assures that mothers who raise winners get
to share the glory, even though who wins and who loses in America
in the age of the widening wealth gap is generally a matter of luck.
Indeed, the history of American childhood belies the popular conviction
that truly exceptional people (as opposed to those who simply inherit
a sense of entitlement) are first and foremost a product of conscientious
parenting. For much of our nation's history, children's living conditions,
access to education and child-rearing norms were deplorable by twenty-first
century standards, yet every era managed to raise the usual complement
of geniuses, criminal masterminds and visionaries. This presents
the controversial possibility that exceptional people -- and even
reasonably successful ones -- actually create themselves through
a combination of innate potential, self-discipline and self-discovery.
Caring parents and other members of society clearly have an opportunity
-- and even an obligation -- to support children's development,
but the most valuable parenting skill may be knowing when to step
out of the way.
While today's hovering parents strive to give their children
a leg-up on the social ladder by insulating them from the normal
difficulties and disappointments of childhood, Minz recommends an
entirely different approach. Whether we like it or not, he argues,
American children are completely enmeshed in the social fabric of
the adult world and deserve a more active and visible place in it.
The message bobbing in the undercurrent of Huck's Raft
is that rather than giving our children everything of ourselves,
perhaps what they need most is enough freedom to explore the complications
and possibilities of their own lives.
Judith Stadtman Tucker
September
2005 |