"It's not just learning things that's important. It's learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters." —Norton Juster, in The Phantom Tollbooth

A child named Carol is playing with mud. Equipped with a fork, a spoon, and a cup, her goal is to bake a make-believe cake, the way she's seen her mother do. Let’s assume that she is playing alone, and imagine three things that might happen to her.

• Playing alone. She wants to fill her cup with mud, and first tries to do this with her fork, but this fails because the mud slips through. She feels frustrated and disappointed. But when she succeeds by using the spoon, Carol feels satisfied and pleased.

What might Carol learn from this? She learns from her ‘trial and error’ experience that forks are not good for carrying mud. But she learns from her success with a spoon, that these are good tools for moving a fluid. From failures we learn which methods don’t work—while successes teach us which methods succeed. [But see §9-2.]

Note that Carol did this while working alone—and acquired new knowledge, all by herself. In the course of learning by trial and error, a person requires no teacher to help her.

• A Stranger Scolds. Unexpectedly, a stranger reproaches her: "That's a naughty thing to do." Carol feels anxious, alarmed, and afraid. Overcome by fear and the urge to escape, she puts her present goal on hold—and runs to find her mother.

What might Carol learn from this? She may not learn much about working with mud, but may classify this as a dangerous place. Also, too many scary encounters like this might make her become less adventurous.

• Her Mother's Reproach. Carol returns to her mother's protection—but instead of assurance, her parent rebukes her. "What a disgraceful mess you've made! See what you've done to your clothes and face. I scarcely can bear to look at you!" Carol, ashamed, begins to cry.

What might Carol learn from this? She’ll become less inclined toward playing with mud. If her parent had chosen to praise her instead, she would have felt pride instead of shame—and in future times would be more inclined to further pursue that same kind of play. In the face of a parent's blame or reproach, she learns that her goal was not good to pursue.

Think of how many emotional states a child engages in the thousand minutes of each of its days! In this very brief story we’ve touched upon satisfaction, affection, and pride—passions we think of as positive. We also encountered shame and disgrace—and fear, anxiety, and alarm—all feelings we think of as negative. What could be the functions of these various kinds of mental conditions? Why do they seem to come in opposing pairs? How could the physical systems in our brains produce these sorts of feelings and thoughts? This book will try to answer many such questions, but this chapter will mainly focus on some ideas about the functions of our children’s early attachments to other persons.

Clearly, attachments help young animals to survive, through nourishment, comfort, and protection from harm. However, this chapter will argue that those special feelings of Pride and Shame play unique and peculiar roles in how we develop new kinds of goals. And because adult minds are so much more complex, we'll start by discussing what children do.