Many a father who will not strike his child feels free to scold him. And a scolding mother is not always deemed the severest and most unjust of mothers. Yet, while it is sometimes right to strike a child, it is at no time right to scold one. Scolding is, in fact, never in order, in dealing with a child, or in any other duty in life.

To “scold” is to assail or revile with boisterous speech. The word itself seems to have a primary meaning akin to that of barking or howling. From its earliest use the term “scolding” has borne a bad reputation. In common law, “a common scold” is a public nuisance, against which the civil authority may be invoked by the disturbed neighborhood. This is a fact at the present time, as it was a fact in the days of old. And it is true to-day as it was when spoken by John Skelton, four centuries ago, that

Scolding is always an expression of a bad spirit and of a loss of temper. This is as truly the case when a lovely mother scolds her child for breaking his playthings wilfully, or for soiling his third dress in one forenoon by playing in the gutter which he was forbidden to approach, as when one apple-woman yells out her abuse of another apple-woman in a street-corner quarrel. In either case the essence of the scolding is in the multiplication of hot words in expression of strong feelings that, while eminently natural, ought to be held in better control. The words themselves may be very different in the two cases, but the spirit and method are much alike in both. It is scolding in the one case as in the other; and scolding is never in order.

If a child has done wrong, a child needs talking to; but no parent ought to talk to a child while that parent is unable to talk in a natural tone of voice, and with carefully measured words. If the parent is tempted to speak rapidly, or to multiply words without stopping to weigh them, or to show an excited state of feeling, the parent’s first duty is to gain entire self-control. Until that control is secured, there is no use of the parent’s trying to attempt any measure of child-training. The loss of self-control is for the time being an utter loss of power for the control of others. This is as true in one sphere as in another.

Mr. Hammond’s admirable work on “Dog-Training,” already referred to in these pages, says on this very point, to the dog-trainer: “You must keep perfectly cool, and must suffer no sign to escape of any anger or impatience; for if you cannot control your temper, you are not the one to train a dog.” “Do not allow yourself,” says this instructor, “under any circumstances to speak to your pupil in anything but your ordinary tone of voice.” And, recognizing the difficulties of the case, he adds: “Exercise an unwearied patience; and if at any time you find the strain upon your nerves growing a little tense, leave him at once, and wait until you are perfectly calm before resuming the lesson.” That is good counsel for him who would train a dog—or a child; for in either dog-training or child-training, scolding—loud and excited talking—is never in order.

In giving commands, or in giving censure, to a child, the fewer and the more calmly spoken words the better. A child soon learns that scolding means less than quiet talking; and he even comes to find a certain satisfaction in waiting silently until the scolder has blown off the surplus feeling which vents itself in this way. There are times, indeed, when words may be multiplied to advantage in explaining to a child the nature and consequences of his offense, and the reasons why he should do differently in the future; but such words should always be spoken in gentleness, and in self-controlled earnestness. Scolding—rapidly spoken censure and protest, in the exhibit of strong feeling—is never in order as a means of training and directing a child.

Most parents, even the gentler and kindlier parents, scold their children more or less. Rarely can a child say, “My parents never scold me.” Many a child is well trained in spite of his being scolded. Many a parent is a good parent notwithstanding the fact that he scolds his children. But no child is ever helped or benefited by any scolding that he receives; and no parent ever helps or benefits his child by means of a scolding. Scolding is not always ruinous, but it is always out of place.

If, indeed, scolding has any good effect at all, that effect is on the scolder, and not on the scolded. Scolding is the outburst of strong feeling that struggles for the mastery under the pressure of some outside provocation. It never benefits the one against whom it is directed, nor yet those who are its outside observers, however it may give physical relief to the one who indulges in it. If, therefore, scolding is an unavoidable necessity on the part of any parent, let that parent at once shut himself, or herself, up, all alone, in a room where the scolding can be indulged in without harming any one. But let it be remembered that, as an element in child-training, scolding is never, never, in order.