Become More Ambitious
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6 min read
TV or not TV? That was the question.
For two years, my husband and I posed the question (only, of course, when our children lay asleep, blissfully unaware of the domestic bombshell lurking in the wings) in contexts alternating from discussion to debate to dispute.
It amazes me to think that, before 1996, the question simply didn't exist. As a parent who wanted the best for her preschoolers, I welcomed what public television had to offer, particularly "Sesame Street." (As a Jewish parent, I got a kick out of the show's Monsterpiece Theatre segment spoofing Fiddler on the Roof: "Here in our little village, we have a fiddler on every roof. And how do we keep track of all the fiddlers? That I can answer with one word: Addition!")
But all too soon, our youngsters outgrew the wit and wisdom of "Sesame Street." They clamored for inane, empty-headed quiz shows, cartoons featuring violence and cruelty, and "family-hour" sitcoms with humor ranging from the sarcastic to the sadistic. Each TV craving celebrated behavior diametrically opposed to our family's values.
Quality, or the lack of it, was one problem. Quantity was another.
Quality, or the lack of it, was one problem. Quantity was another. "Our kids watch no more than one hour of television a day," we'd murmur cavalierly to our friends. We now admit that, on closer inspection, this boast was only one-half (actually one-third) true. For one hour prior to the designated TV time slot, while watching our kids slapdash through homework, we'd hear nothing but "Is it time yet? Can't we turn it on now? It's only ten minutes early!" During the sacred viewing hour, while watching our kids' sparkling eyes acquire a near-comatose glaze, we'd hear nothing at all. And for at least an hour after the tube's temporary demise, we'd hear (in predictable order) shrieks, grunts, wails and, occasionally, threats ("I'm not gonna take a bath..." "I'm gonna move to David's house..." "...if you don't let me watch more!"). Our kids were addicted.
The statistics alarmed us. In 1996, Nielsen Media Research announced that American children, aged 2 to 11, watch over 19 hours of television a week. In 1997, the Japanese press reported that over 700 youngsters were hospitalized after a cartoon show triggered seizures. And in 1998, Reuters cited research in Spain showing that children's risk of injury rose by 34 percent for every hour of television watched, adding that upon reaching age 70, the average person will have spent between seven and ten years glued to the tube. (For a more detailed analysis, see: The Truth about TV.)
Still, we agonized. Could our children survive the loss? Could we?
Then, a TV-less friend with remarkably well-bred children catapulted us to a decision by paraphrasing the Novominsker Rebbe: "As Jewish parents, we hope our children will live a life of integrity. When they are old enough, we teach them that there are three transgressions which we must resist even upon pain of death: murder, promiscuity and idol worship. Yet, what do we do? We bring into our home a little box that glorifies these sins. We don't just welcome the box; we worship it!"
Television's absence necessitates our presence.
Ten days later, our TV departed. We expected an insurrection. It didn't come. Within a week, our children were transformed into lovers of:
Happily, there are many superb Jewish recordings that educate as they enchant. "The Marvelous Midos Machine [Volumes 1, 2 and 3]" takes youngsters into outer space, foreign lands and even the past to acquaint them with Torah-true character traits (midos), including honesty, modesty, kindness and respect. "Shhh! It's Lashon Hara!" spoofs the Dragnet TV classic, with police officers who patrol against gossip (lashon hara) and other verbal abuses that Judaism forbids. "Journeys [Volumes 1, 2 and 3]" offers soul-stirring English songs about baseball games, atheist conventions and kites, songs that speak to parent and child alike.
These developments have given my husband and me immense joy. But I cannot deny the bottom line: Television's absence necessitates our presence. When we consider the intellectual, ethical and emotional fees that our "electronic babysitter" used to charge, we are more than willing to take its place.
So, TV or not TV? For this family, there's no question about it.