Dibs: In Search of Self

by Virginia M. Axline

Washington’s Birthday, the school newspaper, all the days in the week,

He picked up the figure he had identified as “Papa” and tossed it into the sandbox.

He doesn’t like papa?

“Papa is picking me up here, today,” Dibs told me. “Oh?” I exclaimed, pricking up my ears. So “Papa” was emerging a little into Dibs’ world!

Interesting

Interesting

He lined them up, aiming at me. He walked toward the door. “Guns are useful when it comes to shooting,” he said.

dismissing me.

“Papa” glanced at me. “How do you do,” he said, stiffly. He seemed very ill at ease.

Important to note

“I say, Papa,” Dibs said. “Do you know today is not Independence Day?” “Come, Dibs. I am in a hurry,” “Papa” said. “And it won’t be until July,” Dibs persisted. “But it comes on a Thursday, four months, two weeks away.” “Come, Dibs,” “Papa” said, embarrassed to death by Dibs’ conversation that probably seemed very bizarre to him — if, indeed, he was listening to it. “Independence Day comes on Thursday,” Dibs tried again. “On the Fourth of July is the day.” “Papa” was shoving Dibs out the door. “Can’t you stop that senseless jabber?” he said, between clenched teeth. Dibs sighed. He drooped. He left, silently, with his father. The receptionist looked at me. There were no other people in the waiting room.

Papa is mean to Dibs

Poor Dibs

Sometimes it is very difficult to keep firmly in mind the fact that the parents, too, have reasons for what they do — have reasons, locked in the depths of their

personalities, for their inability to love, to understand, to give of themselves to their children.

Note

The next morning I received a telephone call from Dibs’ mother. She asked if it would be convenient to arrange for an appointment for herself. She seemed to be apologetic about making this request, quickly adding that she would understand if I was too busy.

Important

Interesting

Interesting

Note

One thing I could be very sure of, this would be an extremely difficult and emotionally exhausting conference for this mother, no matter how she used the time

Interesting

So proper

She sat down in the chair beside my desk, facing me. She was very pale. Her hands were clasped tightly together. Her eyes flitted around, glancing at me and away quickly — as Dibs had done when I first saw him in the playroom.

Interesting 🧐

She had an expression of anxiety and panic in her eyes. It was important not to push her

She had asked for the conference. She had a reason for so doing.

She smiled, but it was a smile without mirth.

“Some things are better left unsaid,”

looking directly at me.

“But so many unsaid things can become a great burden,” she said.

She sat there looking out the window in silence for a long time.

She looked down at her tightly folded hands. She looked up and met my eyes. There were tears in her eyes.

“I am so worried about Dibs,” she said. “So deeply worried about him!”

“Yes,” she said. “So very worried! Lately, he seems to be so unhappy. He stands around, looking at me, always so silent. He comes out of his room more often now. But he just stands around on the edge of things, like a haunting shadow. And whenever I speak to him, he runs away. Only to return and regard me with such tragic sorrow in his eyes.” She took some tissues from the box on the desk and wiped her eyes.

Note

Dibs was coming out of his room more often, now.

It could be that Dibs was showing his feelings more overtly at home.

Note

“I feel very uncomfortable when he does that,” she added, after a long pause. “It is as though he is asking for something — something that I cannot give. He is a very difficult child to understand. I have tried. Really, I have tried. But I have failed. From the beginning, when he was an infant, I could not understand him. I had never really known any children before Dibs. I had no real experience as a woman with children or babies. I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were like, really like as persons, that is. I knew all about them biologically, physically, and medically. But I could never understand Dibs. He was such a heartache — such a disappointment from the moment of his birth. We hadn’t planned on having a child. His conception was an accident. He upset all our plans. I had my professional career, too. My husband was proud of my accomplishments. My husband and I were very happy before Dibs was born. And when he was born he was so different. So big and ugly. Such a big, shapeless chunk of a thing! Not responsive at all. In fact, he rejected me from the moment he was born. He would stiffen and cry every time I picked him up!”

Very, very important development

Note

“I’ve got to get it out, at least this one time. I’ve carried this around with me for too long. It is like a heavy stone in the middle of my heart. Think whatever you will about me, but, please, let me tell you. I didn’t intend to do this. When I called and asked for the appointment, I intended to ask you about Dibs. His father was upset yesterday. He thinks the therapy is making Dibs worse. But there is something that I just must talk to you about. I’ve kept it all locked up inside of me for so long a time. “My pregnancy was very difficult. I was very ill most of the time. And my husband resented my pregnancy. He thought that I could have prevented it. Oh, I don’t blame him. I resented it, too. We couldn’t do any of the things we used to do together, couldn’t go anyplace. I suppose I should say that we didn’t, not couldn’t. My husband stayed away more and more, buried himself in his work. He is a scientist, you know.

Important

But remote. And very, very sensitive. And this may surprise you. I don’t even talk about this anymore. I’ve never even mentioned it at the school.” Again, there was that unhappy, mirthless smile on her lips. “Before I became pregnant, I was a surgeon. I loved my work. And I had shown promise of achieving success as a surgeon. I had perfected two very complicated heart operations. My husband was proud of me. All our friends were very brilliant, successful, interesting men and women. And then Dibs was born and spoiled all our plans and our life. I felt that I had failed miserably. I decided that I would give up my work. Some of my closest professional friends couldn’t understand my attitude, or my decision. I did not tell them about Dibs. Oh, they knew about my pregnancy. But not about Dibs. It soon became obvious that Dibs was not normal. It was bad enough to have a child, but to have a mentally retarded child was really more than we could bear. We were ashamed. We were humiliated. There had never been anything like this in either of our families. My husband, noted throughout the country for his brilliance. And my own record had always been outstanding. All our values had been heavily slanted in the direction of intelligence — fine, precise, noteworthy intellectual achievement! “And our families. We had both grown up in families where those qualities were valued above all others. And then Dibs! So peculiar. So remote. So untouchable. Not talking. Not playing. Slow to walk. ...

Important

Notes

She nodded her head, slowly. “Yes,” she said, and her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, “I have noticed many things about Dibs that indicate that he has some ability. But he seems so unhappy as he unfolds more and more at home. He doesn’t have those awful temper tantrums any more. Not at home and not at school. That scene yesterday wasn’t a tantrum. It was his protest at the insult he must have felt in his father’s remark. He doesn’t suck his thumb all the time any more. He is talking more and more at home. But to himself — not to us. Except for that outcry to his father. He is changing. He is improving. I only hope to God that he will be all right!” she said fervently.

Important

She and Dibs had so many little mannerisms in common.

Funny

No matter how many times we hear this kind of outpouring (and it happens frequently), the complexity of human motivation and behavior is demonstrated over and over again.

She was aware of the elements that weighed so heavily upon her conscience. Probably more aware of the things she wanted to leave unspoken, made even more aware of them by the constant vigilance she maintained to guard their secrecy. Probably she and her husband had learned early in their lives that their keen intelligences could be erected as a shield around them, could insulate them from emotions that they had never learned to understand and use constructively.

Note

It was protective behavior.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

His mother and father were still the victims of their lack of self-understanding and emotional maturity.

Note

They were floundering around in the depths of their feelings of inadequacy and insecurity.

It was the lack of balance in his total development that created the problem. Or, perhaps, quite unconsciously, they chose to see Dibs as a mental defective rather than as an intensified personification of their own emotional and social inadequacy.

Her failure to relate to her child with love, respect, and understanding was probably due to her own emotional deprivation. Who can love, respect, understand another person, if they have not had such basic experiences themselves?

“I’m glad because I feel glad,” he told me. That ended that.

Emotional

Self given responsibility

Independent