'Sesame Street' is the humane, affirming TV show we all need right now

From Saturday's Briefing:

One of my first-ever memories is watching family friends deliver a stuffed animal to my newborn sister.

They gave tiny Melane a giant Oscar the Grouch, his mouth permanently open and his googly eyes frozen in one direction.

"That's not fair," I remember thinking. "She doesn't even know who Oscar the Grouch is."

I don't think that my toddler mind grasped that I was being a bit too, well, grouchy.

Melane and I have shared an affection for Sesame Street ever since. Grover, Big Bird, Bert and Ernie, Snuffleupagus, Prairie Dawn, the Count, Cookie Monster. We sang, counted and laughed with them all.

Those characters and their lessons stuck with us. They're part of our childhood lore. This summer, we even bought matching Sesame Street shirts.

The iconic program has endured for almost 50 years, delighting children who eventually became parents who, in turn, sat their own children in front of televisions for an hour of gentle entertainment (and debated the merits of newcomer Elmo). That leaves a giant group of us reminiscing as Carroll Spinney, who has been the voice of Oscar and Big Bird since the beginning of Sesame Street in 1969, recently announced his retirement.

Spinney has earned his break. Imagine how many children he has influenced, with that childlike wonder and curiosity that is Big Bird and the remarkable self-awareness of no-nonsense Oscar. He's performed in thousands of episodes, showing children both how to be a cheerful friend and how to create healthy boundaries.

My children were Sesame Street fans of their own volition, at a time when the children's entertainment market was exponentially bigger than during my 1970s childhood. Cable television, DVRs, on-demand programming and mobile apps offer access to an overwhelming number of choices directed at young people — some worth half an hour a day, most of it distressingly insipid.

The recent documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor? reminded the nation of how much we need humane, affirming content for children and their adults. Programming like Sesame Street and Mister Rogers' Neighborhood allows children to be children — to act their age, to explore emotions, to learn appropriate ways to express those feelings.

The best of child-centered programs and literature don't condescend.

They don't force mature content. They celebrate the joy of childhood — and acknowledge its difficulties, while offering age-appropriate explanations and solutions. They embrace kindness.

Adults carry the responsibility of helping children choose content that is good for the mind and soul. Fred Rogers is no longer with us, though episodes live on online at misterrogers.org. Spinney is retiring, but Big Bird and Oscar will continue. And there are tools to help parents sift through the clutter to choose appropriate content. (Common Sense Media is my go-to source, even now with two teens in the house.)

Adults are also responsible for exposing children to life beyond a screen. All of those lessons on counting and sorting, rhyming and sharing don't mean much until kids develop those skills in the real world, with real people. And every one of us needs practice facing the Big Birds of the world when we're feeling more Oscar the Grouchy.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.

From Sesame Street Workshop

Your political party may be different than mine, but we're still on the same team

From Saturday's Briefing:

I eat lunch with about 10 colleagues each day. We visit about television and movies, families, goals and aspirations, work, the weekend before and the weekend to come. Our conversation runs from silly to serious and back again in the short amount of time we have between classes.

I have no idea how most of these co-workers will vote in the midterm elections.

I sit on the right side of the sanctuary every Sunday morning. There are dozens of folks in front, behind and beside me. We sing hymns together, pray together, consider sermons together. We sometimes chuckle in unison, and we sometimes weep at the same time.

I have no idea which church members cheered for Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation and which shook their heads in resignation.

I volunteer with a group of moms who are trying to get a PTSA running at our high school. We debate how much to budget for hospitality and mini-grants. We estimate how many members we'll have by the end of the year and how much money we can raise to cover expenses.

I have no idea how most of these volunteers feel about Colin Kaepernick or Robert Mueller.

At work, at church, at volunteer meetings, we're all working toward common goals, and we're too busy getting stuff done to get weighed down by superfluous arguments.

My colleagues are there to teach and guide students. Those church members are there to worship, experience community and find truth. My mom friends want to support their children and the people who teach them.

We work toward our goals without regard to which cable news network we watch, which online sources we read, which candidates we support. We may disagree on procedures or small details, but we're willing to compromise, to resolve conflict for the greater good.

My social media world, well, that's a different story. There's an obscene amount of hate being thrown about on Twitter and Facebook. Lines drawn. Names called. Civility tossed.

Yes, these are tumultuous times. We are divided on judicial nominations, health care, climate change, tariffs, FBI investigations, immigration, acceptable forms of protest.

Our country seems to have lost its shared goals. Or we've lost sight of what those goals are, signaling an appropriate time to reflect on meaningful documents and important thinkers.

From our Declaration of Independence in 1776:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

From Martin Luther King Jr., during his Nobel Prize acceptance speech in 1964:

Man must evolve for all human conflict a method, which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.

Are we still a nation that pursues equality for all, that believes in unalienable rights? Are we capable of setting aside revenge, aggression and retaliation in favor of love?

When my children were much younger and we were in the early stages of grief after my husband's death, Cooper and Katie were bickering more than usual. Tempers were short. I was desperate for a solution.

I spoke with 8-year-old Cooper about the importance of getting along, about not directing our anger or sadness about Daddy's death at one another.

I asked Cooper what his soccer team tries to do.

"Score goals."

And would you ever argue with your teammate on the field when you're trying to score a goal?

"Oh, no!"

Arguing didn't totally shut down in our house, but we rediscovered our shared direction.

No matter which candidates or party we claim, we're all on the same big team — and each of us is valuable and worthy of respect.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.

How parenting can be a lot like gardening

From Saturday's Briefing:

To be a parent is to be a gardener — a gardener in an emotional, unpredictable, chaotic plot of land that you're totally devoted to despite constant self-doubt and lack of clear instructions.

You plant seeds all over the place, sometimes in neat rows, sometimes haphazardly in reaction to spindly weeds.

There's no predictable cycle. Sometimes you plant a seed, sprinkle a little water, hope for the best and harvest a bountiful crop. Or you might plant, water, prune, prune, prune, plant some more, water some more, swat away pests, wait a few years, spy a sprout and then eventually, after all kinds of worry, take in a single, precious bloom.

I was folding laundry this week while Cooper was in the next room, on the phone with a friend. She was seeking advice on a major project, one that Cooper had already turned in.

"I told you not to wait on this one," he reminded her. Then he talked her through some details from the assignment's rubric and offered tips and encouragement to finish in the time remaining.

Out of his sight, I danced a silent jig of happiness, in celebration of this rare harvest.

My son boasts a long list of fine qualities, and, like all humans, he has some room for improvement. Time management is what I would call one of his growth opportunities.

Yet this school year has been a little different. Yes, he stays up late each night finishing homework (I would, too, if I were taking four Advanced Placement classes), but he's more deliberate in anticipating his schedule and starting long-term assignments early — the day it's assigned, even.

There have been years of planting, watering and pruning. Years of modeling with to-do lists, reminders and calendars. Years of me reminding, "I told you not to wait on this one." Years of asking, "What can you learn from this experience?"

He was learning the whole time. The yield simply took longer than I expected.

Another afternoon this week, I was in my classroom, grading papers while a group of students met to discuss the brand-new Newspaper Club, the brainchild of two sixth-graders who asked me to be their sponsor.

My Katie, an eighth-grader who arrives early and stays late because I'm her ride to and from school, decided to join the club, partly because she enjoys writing and partly because she's already in the room.

The rest of the group was struggling to agree on features to include in the first issue. They have big dreams and fanciful ideas, and there was some conflict, as is typical in group projects with passionate members.

Katie observed, listened, then spoke.

"I suggest that we look at an actual newspaper and its sections. Perhaps we can take one idea from each section for our own newspaper."

I danced a jig in my mind (so as to not embarrass my eighth-grader).

Katie, like her brother and all humans, bears laudable qualities and harbors some growth opportunities. She speaks her mind, sometimes without thinking how her words will be received. You might call it showing signs of leadership or signs of bossiness, depending on your perspective.

But this time, without prompting or coaching, she assessed the situation and provided a route for compromise. She gave no specific answers but rather provided needed direction. The group responded well and made progress, with fewer arguments and more collaboration.

Another harvest after years of tending.

I'm celebrating my family's recent evidence of growth while also noting that the garden still has wild patches. Some spots need a little more water. Others need to be left alone. And who knows when the next invasive species will arrive.

As always, I've got my eye on some long-anticipated sprouts. Their schedule is unpredictable, but I've learned that the harvest eventually arrives.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Katie and Cooper, September 2018