Fear, blame and magical cures
All children have fears. The monster under the bed, the thing in the cupboard under the sink. The old lady next door with the nasty cat.
But some children have fears that aren't standard passing childhood phobias. The intensity of the fear, the irrationality of the object of fear (say, a shower curtain, or a blue coffee cup) and the amount of ritual surrounding the fear set these children's fears apart. The maze of terror, compulsion and obsession that rules these children's days and nights can only be vaguely imagined by those on the outside. The knowledge that switches must always be off, the doors ajar to precise degrees, the clothes lined up in spectrum order. The amount of energy these children expend keeping the terror at bay by regimenting their world is immense, yet to an outsider, they seem absurd. But when it's the only way to keep the monsters at bay, it's impossible to do anything else. After all, if you don't flush the toilet four times in a row, your mum might die.
Night Terrors is very easy to compare to Fear Her. Child is different, wrong, the Doctor turns up, child has world of own creation, child conquers fear and is mended. But I can't help but compare it to The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood. Though the Silurian episodes weren't my favourites, by any means, I was impressed with how well they handled a young boy with dyslexia. His parents are concerned, but loving. His drawing skills were a real help, and the Doctor was very quick to list a number of important historical figures who were dyslexic too. And there was no hand waving, no magic fix. The child remains dyslexic, and is no less valued for it.
Children with fears and rituals have been the focus of psychological study. The idea that these behaviours (specifically, those classed as autistic) were caused by parental rejection was prevalent until recently, and still persist in some 'treatment' programmes for autistic children. In Night Terrors, it is his parents seeming 'rejection' of him that triggers George's intense fears and rituals. Once his father 'claims' him, the fears and phantoms disappear. The Doctor proclaims him cured, and when questioned, reassures the father that George will grow into 'exactly the child they want him to be', despite being a 'cuckoo'. Changeling mythology is heavily tied to fears surrounding the child that is different, the babe in the cradle that is just 'wrong'. In the not too distant past, these different children's fates were grim. Throughout much of the 20th century, they were institutionalised; taken from the parents that 'rejected' them, which according to the doctors, lead to their psychosis. The idea that a child will be rejected if it isn't a perfect mould of its parents wishes is a horrid one. The idea of a child lacking the autonomy to develop into its own person with its own thoughts and opinions out of fear of rejection is frankly horrific.
Parents seeking help, or even respite, from a difficult child being labelled as rejection is something else that bothers me. Children with problems outside the norm need a lot of care and support. Parents caring for children with special needs are particularly prone to burnout. Calling a social worker in to help isn't a rejection, or a failure, it's responsible parenting. Getting a kid into respite care to give the parents a few days to breathe and regroup isn't a rejection. Hospitalising or admitting a child that has intense and demanding needs isn't a rejection. But that doesn't mean the parents don't feel the guilt that they couldn't fix their kid themselves. And it doesn't mean that people around them don't blame them for doing it.
After all, television tells us that all you need to do is love a child enough, and fear just disappears.