I don’t know who said it first: St. Francis Xavier, St. Ignatius Loyola, or Aristotle. All three are credited with it. When I first read it, I questioned its truth, especially when I learned that among the three, only one had a child. (Hint: It wasn’t one of the saints.)
So, excusing the gendered language, here it is:
“Give me a child when he is seven, and I will show you the man.”
Maybe, contrary to my initial assumption, Francis, Ignatius, and Aristotle were on to something.
Think back to the time when you were 7ish. Weren’t environmental factors instrumental in your personality development? Did you have a stable or turbulent home? A nurturing or abusive parent? Traumatic or comforting life events over which you had no control? Like most people, you’ve probably had a mix of positive and negative forces.
Lori and I came across my second-grade report card. Under “Follows Directions,” my teacher, Mrs. Tally, had written in red ink, “Not always.” Oops. Apparently, I tended to rush through my work, but she included a note of encouragement, “David has slowed down considerably.” As the youngest of four boys, I had to hurry with everything. Or risk getting left behind.
A couple of years later, under the category dubbed “Whispers too much,” Mrs. Coker had marked out “Whispers” and underscored, with red ink, “Talks.” Again, growing up with three older brothers, I learned that whispering was about as effective as saying nothing. My Type A personality was germinating.
“Looks like your elementary teachers were on to you,” Lori chuckled because those are characteristics I have, at least to a degree, today.
Why seven years of age? Some child development studies lead many social scientists to conclude that an individual’s personality emerges by the early elementary grades or even earlier, crystallizing in the early teens. So, Francis, Ignatius, and Aristotle were actually on the mark.
We have a video clip of our two-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter, Stella, singing and doing her best to pronounce the words of the song “Jesus Loves Me.” Of course, someone taught her the words, in this case, her parents. She asks for her “Bible Book” when she sings it because she associates the song with her mother’s Bible. That’s learned behavior.
It’s too early to tell if that desire will be a part of her more developed personality. Will she sing uplifting Bible songs as an optimistic sanguine? Or sad laments as a melancholic? Will it be soothing spirituals to calm down a choleric personality? Or as a phlegmatic, peaceful biblical songs, maybe to slow down her PopPop?
Time will tell.
Personality development is complex. The nature versus nurture debate lives on, and the interplay of genetics and environment is complicated.
Even as adults, who is to say we can’t change or make adjustments? “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
We all have our foibles, idiosyncrasies, and quirky personality traits: some of us rush ahead while others drag behind; some are controlling while others are passive; some are excitable while others are languid.
Hopefully—with love, compassion, and patience—we can learn to appreciate each other, from the Peter Rabbits to the Eeyores.
I like that when Jesus said, “Let the little children come,” he didn’t include only the sanguine personalities who giggled with anticipation as they ran and jumped in his lap. Jesus embraces all, the melancholic ones who cautiously lingered back, hiding behind their parents’ robes, and those who talked so loudly that they almost missed the moment.
I’m still working on my personality defects, confident that Mrs. Tally and Mrs. Coker are smiling with approval from heaven, erasing their red-inked warning marks, gratified that they made a positive difference in at least this one.