Little Me, And Edu TV
I grew up watching a lot of TV. For the first part of my childhood, it was on a set without a remote, in a house without cable, with just a handful of channels that were kind of hit or miss, depending on the weather and where I was sitting in the room.
That probably paints a picture of how old I am, but it may not explicitly convey what kids’ TV was like at the time. I was a twice-daily viewer of Sesame Street until I was about five, and depending on my mood and the quality of reception, I filled the rest of my dance card with Polka Dot Door, animated series from the UK, The Electric Company, Readalong, Mr. Dressup, and Mr. Rogers. I was a little too old to have really jumped into Reading Rainbow and other PBS classics, but I watched them anyway, because they were comforting and amusing to my pre-adolescent soul.
Whatever we throwbacks feel we missed out on, in childhood or afterward, I think we have to admit that we were well fed (and well-nourished) as television viewers. 70’s and 80’s educational kid’s stuff was good. Really good, in fact. There was all manner of fluff and nonsense being broadcast (punctuated with commercials for sugary cereal and plastic toys), but the educational stuff was plentiful and engaging. I can rant and rage about a lot of aspects of growing up Gen X, but this part of it gets a gold star, or a scratch and sniff sticker.
Apart from the Saturday morning silliness, the stuff we tuned into seemed carefully crafted, clever, funny, with content that stuck (Can anyone my age honestly say they can count to twelve without hearing the Pointer Sisters?). It felt, and still feels, like the people creating it, producing it, and hosting it saw us wee folk as thoughtful, complex, capable, and worth the time it took to get things right. I remember feeling important and empowered by what I saw, even before I could tie my own shoes. That was a gift.
As an adult, I learned that a number of these kid-friendly television wizards went to bat for us behind the scenes, putting up their dukes to maintain funding, airtime, and quality control. There were lots of littles who weren’t privileged, for whom these shows were a vital opportunity for learning. There were caregivers and teachers who needed these resources to help ensure their kids were hitting important milestones. The process of learning itself deserved both respect and space in order to happen in a dominant medium like television. Children’s television creators weren’t all saints, but many of them desperately wanted us kids to feel seen and heard, appreciated, and they were willing to fight to be allowed to keep doing it. That was also a gift.
Some of these gifts that were bestowed upon viewers my age continued to be passed around long after. Some of the recipients of these gifts went on to create new and amazing stuff of their own, so that kids the same age as mine could feel seen, heard and appreciated.
It's a puzzle to me why we so often feel we have to justify, over and over again, our efforts to engage and enrich the minds of little thinkers. We are, collectively, so quick to prioritize other things, sometimes to the extent that we’re willing to pull the plug on media resources that are working, because children aren’t particularly profitable. I’m flummoxed by the idea that something credited with educating millions of children for decades can just go poof and disappear. I don’t know if I would be doing what I do for a living if I hadn’t had these role models. I’m not sure I’d see as much potential, as much thought and ingenuity in children as I do, if I hadn’t been sent such an important message as a kid: what you think matters, even if you’re small.
To anyone still toiling away in the practice of engaging young minds with really great media, I see you and I appreciate you. This is tough, but important work. Always has been and always will be. To everyone else, please, in any way you can, show your support. If you know someone in the kids’ media sphere, give them a high five and say thank you. Beyond this, feed your kids the good stuff, the stuff that’s been painstakingly planned and executed to help them grow into better thinkers, and better human beings. Give creators your eyes and ears. Be an insufferable pest to any institution that’s threatening to take this stuff away. Send them the message that my generation was sent, the one that can make such an incredible difference: wee folk are thoughtful, complex, capable, and worth the time it takes to get things right.