Now just in case there's a horror movie out there whose antagonist is a slasher named Earl with a skin disease, let me clarify: we are talking about Elmo.
As most of you know, I'm not the biggest fan of kids watching TV. I tend to dislike all cartoons, even down to the so-called "classic" Bugs Bunny. I make an exception for Disney movies and The Simpsons. However, I don't like it when kids watch tons of TV because I think they're not doing, not engaging, not experiencing. And because I'm so busy I verge on manic, we all know I'm big on experiencing.
But for the most part, I've been pleased with what Charity learns from Elmo. She wants to watch him, particularly one DVD she got for Christmas, over and over again, but I've seen her vocabulary and her problem solving skills grow because of her close watching of the DVD, taking in the instruction, and actually interacting with it, as well as trying to apply the lessons Elmo teaches her elsewhere. For instance, she often talks to me about "pride," one of Elmo's keywords on the DVD. (OK, she still thinks pride is something she can eat and frequently asks for it alongside a cookie, but at least she's becoming familiar with the term.)
However, there was one part of each Elmo movie or episode that never sat right with me. At the end of his shows, Elmo usually says, "And remember, Elmo loves you!"
But a fictional character can't love.
So will this scar children? Will they wonder why Elmo wasn't there for them when they broke their legs or lost their first teeth? Will they compare others' love the the faux-love that Elmo gives them. Love is the basis of what makes us human--it's something children need to develop the capacity for and understand at a young age. Could Elmo confuse them enough to send them into therapy for the rest of their lives?
And that's when I realized--Elmo is telling kids he loves them for just that reason. Because some of these kids who watch Elmo don't come from happy homes with parents who love them and friends and family who feel absolutely blessed to be a part of their lives. Who knows what kind of horrible things these kids have to deal with on a daily basis. But if their parents just turn on the TV, then for a while, they at least get to learn, they at least get to see what happiness is, and they at least get to hear that they're loved.
In the last few weeks, I've heard a lot about the Republican's fiscal bill, which, in the name of the national debt, completely cuts funding for public broadcasting. That's not why I'm writing this blog. Those of you who know me know that, when it comes to politics, I walk pretty much in the middle of the road, just staying enough to the left to avoid getting hit by oncoming traffic. My husband, a convicted Republican, says PBS doesn't need government funding to keep running Sesame Street, that it's worth millions. He might be right. At least, I'd be inclined to believe it based on the percentage of our annual household income that is earmarked for Elmo merchandise.
But when we think about taking away something like Sesame Street, we need to think beyond people like Charity, who, if Elmo were to suddenly disappear, would still have a village of people telling her they love her each and every day. We need to think about why Sesame Street was really created--in the hopes that, someday, a world population might understand the importance of learning, sharing, loving, and sunny days. So far, it's been unsuccessful--wars are still being fought because grown men and women can't learn to share. But I'd like to think that Elmo, Big Bird, Grover, and the gang convict us all a little when our behavior doesn't reflect the values of Sesame Street.
I guess I don't mind so much that Elmo says he loves Charity. In fact, maybe Elmo does love her; you'd have to have a whole lot of love in your heart to write something as pure as Sesame Street.
So, Charity, Elmo loves you. And so does Mommy. And so does your village. How lucky we both are to know that so certainly.
As most of you know, I'm not the biggest fan of kids watching TV. I tend to dislike all cartoons, even down to the so-called "classic" Bugs Bunny. I make an exception for Disney movies and The Simpsons. However, I don't like it when kids watch tons of TV because I think they're not doing, not engaging, not experiencing. And because I'm so busy I verge on manic, we all know I'm big on experiencing.
But for the most part, I've been pleased with what Charity learns from Elmo. She wants to watch him, particularly one DVD she got for Christmas, over and over again, but I've seen her vocabulary and her problem solving skills grow because of her close watching of the DVD, taking in the instruction, and actually interacting with it, as well as trying to apply the lessons Elmo teaches her elsewhere. For instance, she often talks to me about "pride," one of Elmo's keywords on the DVD. (OK, she still thinks pride is something she can eat and frequently asks for it alongside a cookie, but at least she's becoming familiar with the term.)
However, there was one part of each Elmo movie or episode that never sat right with me. At the end of his shows, Elmo usually says, "And remember, Elmo loves you!"
But a fictional character can't love.
So will this scar children? Will they wonder why Elmo wasn't there for them when they broke their legs or lost their first teeth? Will they compare others' love the the faux-love that Elmo gives them. Love is the basis of what makes us human--it's something children need to develop the capacity for and understand at a young age. Could Elmo confuse them enough to send them into therapy for the rest of their lives?
And that's when I realized--Elmo is telling kids he loves them for just that reason. Because some of these kids who watch Elmo don't come from happy homes with parents who love them and friends and family who feel absolutely blessed to be a part of their lives. Who knows what kind of horrible things these kids have to deal with on a daily basis. But if their parents just turn on the TV, then for a while, they at least get to learn, they at least get to see what happiness is, and they at least get to hear that they're loved.
In the last few weeks, I've heard a lot about the Republican's fiscal bill, which, in the name of the national debt, completely cuts funding for public broadcasting. That's not why I'm writing this blog. Those of you who know me know that, when it comes to politics, I walk pretty much in the middle of the road, just staying enough to the left to avoid getting hit by oncoming traffic. My husband, a convicted Republican, says PBS doesn't need government funding to keep running Sesame Street, that it's worth millions. He might be right. At least, I'd be inclined to believe it based on the percentage of our annual household income that is earmarked for Elmo merchandise.
But when we think about taking away something like Sesame Street, we need to think beyond people like Charity, who, if Elmo were to suddenly disappear, would still have a village of people telling her they love her each and every day. We need to think about why Sesame Street was really created--in the hopes that, someday, a world population might understand the importance of learning, sharing, loving, and sunny days. So far, it's been unsuccessful--wars are still being fought because grown men and women can't learn to share. But I'd like to think that Elmo, Big Bird, Grover, and the gang convict us all a little when our behavior doesn't reflect the values of Sesame Street.
I guess I don't mind so much that Elmo says he loves Charity. In fact, maybe Elmo does love her; you'd have to have a whole lot of love in your heart to write something as pure as Sesame Street.
So, Charity, Elmo loves you. And so does Mommy. And so does your village. How lucky we both are to know that so certainly.
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