Dibs: In Search of Self

by Virginia M. Axline

When the initiative is left up to the individual, he will select the ground upon which he feels his greatest security. Any exclamation of surprise or praise might be interpreted by him as the direction he must take. It might close off any other areas of exploration that might be far more important for him. All people proceed with a caution that will protect the integrity of their personality.

Certainly, it was not appropriate to probe into his private world and try to drag out answers. If I could get across to Dibs my confidence in him as a person who had good reasons for everything he did, and if I could convey the concept that there were no hidden answers for him to guess, no concealed standards of behavior or expression that were not openly stated, no pressure for him to read my mind and come up with a solution that I had already decided upon, no rush to do

everything today — then, perhaps, Dibs would catch more and more of a feeling of security and of the rightness of his own reactions so he could clarify, understand, and accept them. This would take time, real effort, great patience on the part of both of us. And it must at all times be basically and fundamentally honest.

“Your time in the playroom for today is almost up,” I said. “There are only five more minutes left.” Dibs ignored me. He continued to make squares of painted color in the same rigid sequence — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, black, white, violet. Finally, the fifth minute came and went. I stood up. “Our time is up now, Dibs,” I said. “It is time to go.”

“I know you don’t want to go, Dibs,” I said again. “But our time is up for today and you will have to go home now. You may come back again next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. But each time, after our hour is up, you will have to go home.” Dibs began to cry. “Dibs no go home,” he sobbed. “Dibs stay.” “I know you really would like to stay,” I said. “But your time for today is up and you will have to go. Please let me put your coat on now.”

It would have been so easy to take him in my arms and console him, to extend the hour, to try overtly to give him a demonstration of affection and sympathy. But of what value would it have been to add additional emotional problems to this child’s life? He did have to go back to his home no matter how he felt about it. To avoid facing this reality factor would not help him. He needed to develop strength to cope with his world, but that strength had to come from within him and he had to experience personally his ability to cope with his world as it was. Any meaningful changes for Dibs would have to come from within him. We could not hope to make over his external world.

“You will have time to paint this one picture,” I said. “Then it will be time to go.” This was a risky statement. He might extend the time to paint this one picture as long as he wanted to, since the time limit had with my word become flexible. Since I meant “five more minutes,” I should have held to that limit and not complicated the situation by introducing a second element.

“I know you don’t want to go, Dibs. But you and I only have one hour every week to spend together here in this playroom. And when that hour is over, no matter how you feel about it, no matter how I feel about it, no matter how anybody feels about it, it is over for that day and we both leave the playroom. Now it is time for us to go. In fact, it is a little past the time.”

If the therapy becomes the predominant and controlling influence in the individual’s daily life, then I would have serious doubts as to its effectiveness.

I did not press him to tell me what he was thinking. I wanted him to experience more than a question-and-answer exercise. I wanted him to feel and experience his total self in our relationship — and not to confine it to any one kind of behavior.

The child must first learn self-respect and a sense of dignity that grows out of his increasing self-understanding before he can learn to respect the personalities and rights and differences of others.

I hoped that he could experience within himself confidence and adequacy as he coped now with his disappointment and with the realization that things outside ourselves change — and many times we have little control over those elements, but if we learn to utilize our inner resources, we carry our security around with us.

And if she did not choose to open that door, I most certainly had no intention of even knocking on it, let alone attempting to force it open by intentional probing.

But were they changing in their behavior towards Dibs? Or had Dibs changed in his capacity to relate to his mother and father so that he could receive their advances toward him more naturally?

“However I feel. However I feel, I will be.”

When he left the playroom he seemed to leave behind him the sorrowful feelings he had uprooted there.

“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?”

“It has been extremely difficult for you to admit your feelings toward Dibs. But now your feelings have changed and you accept him and believe in him and are proud of him?” I commented.

This mother had studied medicine and she knew that her diagnosis could have been correct. The abnormal behavior she had thrust upon Dibs had kept him apart from his family and from the other children and adults he had met at school. 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.

I did not intend to suggest that he use it — or, indeed, do anything to direct his activities with any specific material. It was there to be used if he chose to do so.

“Big and strong and brave and not afraid any more,” I said.

Dibs had come to terms with himself. In his symbolic play he had poured out his hurt, bruised feelings, and had emerged with feelings of strength and security. He had gone in search of a self that he could claim with proud identity. Now he was beginning to build a concept of self that was more in harmony with the capacities within him. He was achieving personal integration.

“Books!” Dibs said. “Books and books and books.” He lightly ran his fingers over the books. “I love books,” he said. “And isn’t it funny that little black marks on paper can be so good? Pieces of paper and little tiny black marks and you’ve got a story.”

They left together — a little boy who had had the opportunity to state himself through his play and who had emerged a happy, capable child, and a mother who had grown in understanding and appreciation for her very gifted child.

“I’m grown up now,” he said. “But I do remember when I was very, very small and first came to see you. I remember the toys, the doll house and the sand and the men and women and children in the world I built. I remember the bells and the time to go and the truck. I remember the water and the paint and the dishes. I remember our office and our books and our recording machine. I remember all the people. And I remember how you played with me.”

Perhaps there is more understanding and beauty in life when the glaring sunlight is softened by the patterns of shadows. Perhaps there is more depth in a relationship that has weathered some storms. Experience that never disappoints or saddens or stirs up feelings is a bland experience with little challenge or variation in color. Perhaps when we experience confidence and faith and hope that we see materialize before our eyes this builds up within us a feeling of inner strength, courage, and security.