Dibs: In Search of Self

by Virginia M. Axline

Note

Note

He lay down on the floor, with his cheek pressed against the linoleum.

“This tree has green edges,” he said. “It stands here, pointing up, up, up to the sky. It whispers secrets as the winds pass by. ‘Tell me where you have been?’ asks the tree of the wind. ‘Tell me what you have seen? For I have roots that tie me to the earth and I must stand forever here.’ And the wind whispers back ‘I never stay. I blow away. Away today. Away, I say. Away. Away.’ And the tree cries out ‘I want to go with you. I don’t want to stand here, alone and sad. I want to go with you. You seem so glad.’ Oh, well...”

Interesting

I opened my window and I told him that tree was my friend and that branch I needed and I told him I didn’t want it cut off. And Jake didn’t cut it off. And then Papa went out and said he wanted it off because it was too close to the house

Papa upset him again

Papa was men and did more to lock Dibs in the house

I’d kick and bite anybody who tried.”

Note

Observation

Jake is one of the few nice adults and dips life

Jake was one of chips friends

Note

Interesting

Awww poor dibs lost his friend because papa let him go

“Oh, he is,” Dibs said. “I like him very, very much. I guess, maybe, he is a friend?” he asked wistfully.

Dynamic of his household

it would bother the man and God help us if we bother the man, she says.

Dynamic of the household

Interesting

He says this every time

He stood in front of me, looking steadily into my eyes. He sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I know. So much I can do here, but then, always, I finally must go.” He started out the door.

“My hat and coat,” he said. He looked at me.

“Goodbye, Miss A. Thursday will come again. Every week has a Thursday. Goodbye.” He walked down the hall to the reception room. I watched him go. He turned back, waved his hand. “Goodbye,” he said again.

So young. So small. And yet so full of strength. Then I thought of Jake and wondered if he knew how much his understanding and gentle kindness had become such an important part of the development of this young child. I thought of that symbolic tip-end branch and the thin, tired, worn little leaf.

Mote

Note

Dibs took off his hat and coat and threw them down on a chair.

“I got the card you sent me,” he said. “It made me happy. I liked getting the card.”

“I liked the pussywillows you sent me. They were like the spring. Nice pussywillows. With big pussykittens on each branch. I liked them. Papa said they would get roots after a long time in water and I could plant them in the yard. He said they might grow into bushes. Could that happen?” Dibs asked.

“I expect he is correct,” Dibs said. “But I’ll watch for myself and try it and see.”

Note

Note

jumped into the sand with a free, spontaneous movement. He lay down full length.

Interesting development

Interesting

He has issues with his dad

“No,” he said to me, very casually, as though there had been no time lag between my question and this answer. “I don’t talk much to Papa.”

How quickly his focus changed

Why had he asked this question,

“I would say that it means a chance to come here and play and talk just about any way you want to,” I said. “It’s a time when you can be the way you want to be. A time you can use any way you want to use it. A time when you can be you.”

“Someone is walking down the hall,” he said. “But this is our room. They won’t come in here, will they?” “I don’t think they will,” I said. “This is just for me, isn’t it?” Dibs asked. “Just for me. Not for anyone else. Isn’t it?” “It’s just for you at this time every week if you want it that way,” I said. “For Dibs and Miss A,” said Dibs. “Not just for me. For you, too.” “For both of us, then,” I said. Dibs opened the door. “I’ll put the sign up again,” he said. “They shall not disturb.” He replaced the card, patted the door, came back in, and closed the door.

There was a happy smile on his face. He walked over to the easel.

Interesting

But I like the science books best.

A boy who loves books

Why wouldn’t he elaborate

According to all the existing learning theories, he should not have been able to have achieved any of these skills without having first mastered verbal language and without having had appropriate background experiences.

Note

Note

“Oh?” Dibs said. He counted his fingers like a miser, up to fifteen, slowly, laboriously. “Fifteen?” he asked. “Five minutes and ten minutes? Ten minutes and five minutes?”

“Sometimes minutes are happy,” he said. “And sometimes they are sad. There are sad times and happy times.” “Yes. Some times are sad and some happy,” I replied.