Thursday, April 10, 2008

George is a Monkey...

A few weeks ago, Harrogate talked about the feel-good premise of Clifford, the Big Red Dog. As he tacitly suggests in his post, Emily Elizabeth arguably has the greatest parents in the world, as they happily relocated their family to Birdwell Island after recognizing that their dog Clifford was too large to live in the city.

I would like to continue Harrogate's discussion of children's programming. Specifically, I want to comment upon--or perhaps more accurately, complain about--Curious George. Oxybaby and I watch this cartoon daily; on our PBS channel, it airs right before Clifford. Readers who regularly view this show with their children will mistakenly assume that my complaint is related to the constant re-airing of episodes (the same four or five, it seems) day after day. While this is indeed a concern, today I wish to instead complain about the commentary that follows the cartoon. (Please note that the commentary to which I refer might be specific to my local PBS channel, which features Miss Laurie and a number of preschoolers).

After each episode, a child's voice is heard over the credits. He says, "George is a monkey, so he can do things that we can't." The statement is then elaborated upon. And I always expect that it will focus on things that monkeys can do and that humans cannot: "Because George is a monkey, he can fling pooh at people and not get thrown in jail. People will laugh at his pooh-flinging, as it is socially acceptable--and, frankly, expected--that monkeys engage in such behavior"; or "George is a monkey, so it's cute when he picks fleas off of Hunley [the doorman's dachshund] and eat them; it is not considered gross because monkeys are disgusting animals and gross is, as we know, a relative category."

But instead the child voice-over always describes something that George did from the immediate episode. And each time, it is something that I could do. It is not--I repeat, NOT--something that is enabled purely by virtue of George being a monkey. Last week, for instance, George and Betsy were in a race with Steve to see who could deliver the most mail in a set amount of time. George had the brilliant idea of organizing his parcels numerically by address so that he could deliver them in order as he and Betsy walked down the street. Bill, on the other hand, was running back and forth, back and forth. George's strategy led his team to victory. The voice-over: "George is a monkey, so he can do things that we can't: he put the packages in order...." Come on! I can do that, too.

I give credit where credit is due, so I applaud George. He is a smart monkey who does a lot of good in his community. But let's not put him too high on a pedestal. Most of us humans can do the same things that he does.

4 comments:

harrogate said...

Splendid post, oxymoron. Really got Harrogate's wheels spinning like a good post should.

One needn't invoke the relatively grotesque tossing of feces or the munching of fleas (entertaining and thought-provoking as it may prove to do so), simply to draw sharp distinctions between what monkeys and humans can reasonably do.

For instance, one of Harrogate's favorite things about the show is that George often traverses space by leaping from furniture piece to furniture piece, sometimes covering appreciable verticle and horizontal distances with only the rarest of pedal contact with the ground.

As George has just demonstrated, the kids could say, monkeys can jump and climb in ways that humans, quite simply, cannot.

Dr. Peters said...

As another parent who closely critiques preschool programming, I offer another complaint I have with George, as much as I do want to love him and his curiosity. This program is intended for very young children who are developing their verbal skills, learning to communicate with spoken words, increasing the number of words in their vocabularies, and gradually making their sounds more precise. George, being a monkey and all, communicates with nonverbal sounds, similar to the kinds of sounds pre-verbal children make, but the adults seem to understand everything that he says. Assuming that children are motivated to speak clearly by a desire to be understood by those around them, does the image of a beloved character constantly speaking oddly effective gibberish undermine, just a bit, that motivation for children to speak and to speak clearly? (Please forgive the excessive adverbs in that last sentence)

solon said...

Ahh. But the question is, can you play hopscotch like George, with or without you lucky hat?

Oxymoron said...

Extreme hopscotch is not my forte.