Dibs: In Search of Self

by Virginia M. Axline

“It’ll be that way,” Dibs said. “I want this just all mine with nobody else ever coming in here.”

“I...” He hesitated, turned and looked at me. “I... like... them,” he said, stammering a little. “I want them to like me. But I don’t want them in here with us. You are just for me. Something special just for me. Just us two.”

“I can make the water trickle and gush. The way I want it to be.”

“I can stop it. I can go it,” he said.

“I can. I. I. I...” He walked around the playroom, patting his chest, calling out, “I. I. I. I.” He stopped in front of me. “I am Dibs,” he said. “I can do things. I like Dibs. I like me.” He smiled happily, then started to play in the water.

I can do something about it.”

“Oh, I can do things,”

“I can do this and this and this. I can make experiments.”

I can be as big as all the world in here.

I can do anything I want to do. I am big and powerful.

But I want to say hello to the little bottle and if I want to, in here, I can.”

“When I want to be a baby, I can be. When I want to be grown-up, I can be. When I want to talk, I talk. When I want to be still, I be still. Isn’t that so?”

Smart

Note

“A great big mess. A mess of a mix-up. Probably the first real mess I ever made. But now I must put them in their proper order and take the brushes out and do it correctly.” He started to re-arrange the paints and straighten up the mess.

“In here,” he said. “Remember, in here, it’s all right just to be.”

He came over to me and patted my hand. “You understand,”

“And when I go, I’ll be all happy inside. Then I’ll come back again next Thursday. And remember, only me. Nobody else, but me. And you.”

“I’ll be back next Thursday and fill up again with happiness.”

Then he turned and ran down the long hall as fast as he could run, turned, ran back, and flung his arms around his mother. “Oh, mother, I love you!” he cried out as he hugged her.

Mega big important note of expression of emotion

Both of us were surprised at this spontaneous expression from Dibs. His mother’s eyes filled with sudden tears. She nodded her farewell and left, clutching his hand tightly in hers.

Big important note

Interesting

“I wanted you to know how grateful we are,” she said. “Dibs has changed so much. He isn’t the same child. I’ve never before seen him express such free feeling as he did yesterday when we were leaving. I — I was deeply touched.”

There was a happy glow in her eyes, a little smile on her lips.

Take note this is firsthand from his mother and his improvement due to his therapy with Smith with Miss A

It’s probably very important to his mother that he’s showing affection towards her

He feels like he’s a part of the family now

From the beginning I was at such a loss with him. I felt so completely defeated and threatened. Dibs had ruined everything for me. He threatened my marriage. He ended my career. Now I ask myself what I have done to cause this problem between us? Why did this all happen? What can I do now to help set things right? I’ve asked myself again and again, why? Why? Why? Why did we fight each other so? So much so that it almost destroyed Dibs. I remember when I first talked to you that I insisted that Dibs was mentally retarded. But I knew he wasn’t really retarded. I had been teaching him and testing him and trying to force him

to behave in a normal fashion ever since he was two years old — all of it without any real contact between the two of us.

The mother is knowing her responsibility for the issues Deb has

She is admitting to knowing he isn’t mentally retarded that he’s actually gift it is interacting with him and his gifts

Interesting that she had to prove something to herself rather than just acting as a mother and helping her child develop skills and such it was about her not him

Note

“Always testing him. Always doubting his capacity. Trying to get closer to him and all the time only building a wall between us.

Cool so she basically Mets to torturing him having to tear his ability

Note

Note

I no longer reject him. Dibs is my child and I am proud of him.”

And his drawings are quite unique. Let me show you some of his drawings.” She suddenly held a roll of papers that she had brought with her. She took off the rubber band, unrolled them, then handed them to me. “Look at them,” she said. “Look at the detail and the perspective.” I looked at the drawings. They were indeed unusual for a child of six to have produced. The objects he had drawn were precise down to the last detail. In one picture, he had drawn a park with winding rock steps winding up the hill. The perspective was quite remarkable. “Yes. They are unusual,” I said.

When a child is forced to prove himself as capable, results are often disastrous. A child needs love, acceptance, and understanding. He is devastated when confronted with rejection, doubts, and never-ending testing.

Wow

Talking about how she taught tips to read at eight to

Her voice trailed off into silence. She looked out the window for a long time. I made no comment. The picture she had painted of her life with Dibs had a chill in it. It was, indeed, a wonder that the child had maintained his integration and receptiveness. The pressure he had endured was enough to drive any child into a protective withdrawal. She had proved to herself that Dibs could learn the tasks she set before him. But she had felt the absence of a close relationship with her son. This kind of exploitation of the child’s ability, to the exclusion of a balanced emotional life, could destroy him.

We fought every indication that we were at fault. Guilt, defeat, frustration, failure. Those were our feelings and we couldn’t tolerate them. We blamed Dibs. Poor little Dibs. Everything that went wrong between us was his fault. Everything was his fault. I wonder if we can ever make it up to him.”

“My feelings have changed,” she said, slowly. “My feelings are changing. I am proud of Dibs. I love him. Now he doesn’t have to prove himself to me every minute. Because he has changed. He had to change first. He had to be bigger than I. And his father’s feelings and attitudes have changed. We had built up such high walls around ourselves — all of us. Not only Dibs. I had. So had my husband. And if these walls all come down — and they are coming down, then we’ll all be a lot happier and closer.”

The defensiveness of a threatened person can be insurmountable.

Not only was Dibs finding himself but so were his parents.

“I’m happy to report that we see a big change in Dibs,” she said. “It has been a gradual change, but we are delighted with Dibs. He will answer us now. Sometimes he will even initiate a conversation. He is happy, calm, and showing an interest in the other children. He speaks very well most of the time, but when something bothers him he lapses back into his abbreviated, immature speech. He refers to himself as ‘I’ most of the time. Hedda is beside herself with joy. We are all very pleased with him. We thought you would like to know.”

Gradually, he had approached the group more directly. At first there were brief answers to questions directed to him. Then he began to do what the other children did. When he came into the room in the morning, he returned greetings. He carefully took off his coat and hat and hung them on his own peg in the coat room. He edged up to the other children gradually, moving his chair closer and closer to the group for

the stories, the music, the conversation. Occasionally, he replied to a question.

But the opportunity for him to take part was always there.