Someone recently posted a generic picture. Children riding bikes in the countryside. And the message “No one’s fondest childhood memory is a series or a film!” The usual advice (with a dose of aggression and shaming): “back to nature, how we used to play”, “grazed knees back then – today just telly and mobiles”, “why don’t you spend time with your children instead of fobbing screens off on them?!?!”, “let children read instead of watching series!”. This rattled me a bit and I quickly fell into a spiral of self-blame, convinced I’m a bad mum and that I’m not doing enough. Luckily, I started reading the comments. People were listing their favourite memories and the anticipation they felt while following their favourite series and films.
And of course I remember mine vividly. A summer dusk, I’d finished playing for the day and wanted to laze about a bit before dinner. And then on the TV appeared red-haired Anne from Green Gables. We of course called the series “The Road to Avonlea.” I knew it was love at first sight. And I remember calling my mum over and excitedly pointing out the beautiful scenery and the dresses like something out of Sara Key and Anne’s red hair and her explosive temper and her overblown ambition and her romantic dreaminess and Gilbert. As if someone had taken all the elements I love and made the perfect mixture for magic. Mum laughed at my excessive delight but joined me to watch together.
As the zoomers would say – disclaimer – I would love my children to read more. And yes, I think I could have done more to build that habit in them. There were periods when we read together, when they accepted my suggestions, periods when they read nothing and when everything written more than 10 years ago was boring and outdated to them. I think what I missed most was talking about what we’d read. Television took a special place in their interests. Parents of small children have been through the developmental journey from Peppa through Blaze, Paw Patrol, Dora and her backpack. I have it on good authority from the pre-teen and teenage years – they’ll claim they never loved Dora or her backpack THAT much.
If you can’t beat them, join them.
I saw them watching “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” and casually told them that I was Raphael, or Raf as they call him. The surprise on their faces was indescribable. And they immediately told me I was more of a Donatello – Donnie, but that to them I was April O’Neil. They told me which characters they identify with and why. And so began our watching together and commenting on the content they watch. Teen series replaced cartoons. Analysing situations, identifying with favourite characters.
It became clear to me that they can learn many things from all of this, just as they can from books. After all, live-action content is also a kind of text to interpret. Honestly, even today, thanks to the Ninja Turtles, the only era for which I can reel off the key figures off the top of my head is the Renaissance. We watched a teen series together set in a high school in California. And while I thought they were only interested in everyday goings-on, competitions and the odd humorous remark, my older son asked me during a walk what the Ivy League was and whether those really are the best universities. Later he said he’d love to have lockers at school and that it must be really interesting to have a joint project in every subject. And while we were impatiently waiting for the fourth season, they said they couldn’t wait to see whether Devi would get into the university she’d wanted since the first season.
It was easier for our parents (ok, our parents probably thought the same about the generations before them). Educational programming on state television in the morning slots was safe content. But there’s no going back. I realised that time won’t come back and that I have to work out how best to make use of the modern information age. The series we watched came years after our peers had already watched them. Oh, if only I’d had a world premiere back then and could have watched how the filming went, if only I’d had a platform where I could share interpretations with children from all over the world. So that’s how we started using the internet to learn about what interests them.
It was lovely to see a full cinema during the promotions of Spider-Man, Avengers and the superhero films. All the children were thrilled, some had already seen what was going to happen. I enjoyed watching them in the cinema, aware that they were sharing that moment with the whole world and that this was a cultural moment that would be one of the key ones in shaping them.
My biggest nightmare is YouTube and TikTok. But a total ban isn’t the solution. So we make an effort to talk about the videos they watch. Sometimes it’s boring listening about tricks for getting through games or a bloke who crosses the whole of America with no money, earning as he goes, a day ahead at a time. But it’s worth it. Because you see their interests, because they realise you respect their hobbies. And because one day they tell you that you simply have to watch a karate series because they can’t wait to talk to you about it.
The second part of the animated film “Inside Out” was recently showing at my local cinema. I’m sure it will be the most significant animated film of the coming decades. I won’t retell the plot for you. But that film is just as important for us as it is for the children. In the first one we learned that all feelings matter, sadness and joy alike. That we all have a little angry person inside our heads. The second part tells the story of the greatest challenge for both parents and teenagers – puberty. We laughed and cried, some grumbled a bit because they’re too big for cartoons. But everyone in the cinema was whispering – it’s all the same, it’s all so true. I see children imitating those little characters from the film to signal that embarrassment, boredom or anxiety has turned up.
In the film, something from the beginning of the story appears several times. That backpack from the cartoon about Dora and her adventures. You know the one they didn’t really love that much. Well, it turns out they did. A sigh swept through the cinema that revealed nostalgia. For the time when they were children. I think it would be much the same for us if Elmer the Patchwork Elephant, say, suddenly popped up out of nowhere.
We’re still haggling over reading, but as I type this a message arrives that they’ve read 10 (ten) pages of Harry Potter and what’s all different from the film. The long way round and small steps, but I’ll take it.
