From A London Child Of The 1870s, by M.V. Hughes

Whether by design or not, we were allowed almost unlimited freedom, to imperil our lives without any sense of fear, and to invent our own amusements. We never had a nurse, or a nursery, or anyone to supervise us. Instead of this we were given a room to ourselves--all to ourselves. In this matter we were better off than any other children we knew then or have known since. For our parents did the thing thoroughly. They provided a large table, a warm carpet, a fire whenever we liked, a large ottoman for storage and to serve as a window-seat; and left everything else to us. We chose the wall-paper and put what pictures we liked on the walls.

This room, which became a happy memory for us all through our lives, was called the 'study'--perhaps as a hint of its intention. The name added to its dignity without putting, as far as we were concerned, any notion of work into it. As time went on we did our home lessons in it, but the word 'study' is always associated in my mind with sheer fun.

So greatly was our possession of the study respected that I cannot remember my father or mother ever being in it, except on the occasions when they sat in the stalls during one of our theatrical displays, paying heavily for the privilege and for the programmes.

While my own parents would never have given us a 'study', they did have a positive genius for ignoring us. Which is not to say that they didn't spring for music lessons, orthodontia, little league, scouting, boating, etc.

When it came to possessions, or extra-curricular activities, they didn't stint. Much.

However, they weren't breathing down our necks all the time to make sure that we excelled in our various pursuits. If we asked for help, we got it. If not, we were on our own. There was very little pushing involved, for which I'm duly thankful.

I pity today's over-scheduled, over-monitored cocoon kids. Given the choice, I always preferred being left to myself.