Children of Network TV

Here in the midwest it is that time of year when going outside becomes a little less fun and a little more risky as the snow is high enough to lose a two year-old and the temperature is low enough to get a free Runza. . . long story. So all my lovely ideas about children exploring their world and spending time in the fresh air and learning independence and problem solving skills go out the window as I say for the millionth time, “Why don’t you go watch something.” and shoo them out of the kitchen (WHY are they ALWAYS in the KITCHEN?!).

A couple years ago we added Netflix to our lives and now I can’t quite imagine life without it. The word itself has taken the place of the word “tv” in our home. “Why don’t you see what’s on Netflix?” The other day my five year-old took a look at me all dressed up for church and wearing jewelry and said, “Mom, that’s a nice Netflix.” (translation: necklace) Netflix gets rid of some of my qualms with regular TV usage. I don’t like commercials. They are loud and sometimes vulgar and make my kids want stuff they didn’t previously know existed. Netflix means I can pick a show that’s appropriate and not worry that when it’s over something inappropriate will come on. It has made my job as a mom easier in some ways, but I can’t help but think back to my own days as a child of network television. Here’s what I think my kids are missing:

Network television taught me to tell time. Sesame Street was on at ten o’clock. If it wasn’t ten o’clock, there was no Sesame Street. Punky Brewster was on at 3:30. If it was 4, then my brothers got to pick and we’d all watch Transformers. I learned to associate different hours of the day with different TV shows. I also learned the days of the week thanks to TV. If I wanted to see what zany antics Balki Bartokomous (don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about) was up to, I’d have to wait for Friday. In fact, if I wanted to watch any programing aimed at me during the evening hours, I’d have to wait for Friday. TGIF, indeed.

Network television taught me to go outside or read a book. There were hours where the TV was useless— the hours when every channel had the nightly news (we didn’t get cable until I was in middle school), or soap operas, or game shows, or infomercials, or at night when every station was just fuzz. My parents weren’t always having to tell us to turn it off or “just one more episode” because we legitimately weren’t interested in what was on the TV for many hours of the day.

 Network television taught me patience. My kids can turn on whatever show they want whenever they’re interested in watching it (with my permission, obviously) and then they can binge watch a whole series at once. Not so with my network television childhood. You might have to wait a whole week to find out if Kimmy Gibbler and DJ Tanner were going to resolve that fight. My kids will never know the meaning of a “cliffhanger episode” where you wonder for days how things will end.

Network television gave me easy lunch table conversation topics. When you only had a couple channels and everybody had the same limited access to episodes, it was easy to chat about what MacGyver was up to that week. There were no “spoiler alerts” because we were all on the same unspoiled page. We were all watching the same shows on the same schedule. If you asked a kid over to watch Animaniacs with you, you knew you’d be seeing the episode for the first time together.

Network television taught me you can’t always get what you want. Commercials were like somebody had brought the toy store into your house, showed you all the best stuff, then left you alone with your mom to work on the details. There were so many things I was sure would make my life better (Moon Shoes, anyone?), but we did not have the money for them. I asked and begged and my mom was a rock that could not be moved. I believe this set us both up for a shorter teenage rebellion because I already knew the probability of me changing my mom’s mind to get what I wanted.

So thank you, Network Television. You taught me more than just the difference between near and far (much love, Grover) or how much a bar of soap cost, without going over the actual retail value (and don’t forget to spay or neuter your pets). I am forever in your debt.