Editorial: Teacher has come to see himself in Mr. Rogers
Commentary
Brookline TAB
Wednesday, March 5, 2003
This column originally appeared in the TAB in Sept. 2001. Fred Rogers passed away Feb. 27 after a short battle with stomach cancer.
I was sorry to hear that "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" taped its last TV episode recently. But I have to admit that when I was a young teacher, I couldn't relate to Fred Rogers. He was just too hokey. That set piece where he smiles reassuringly at the camera, dons his cardigan sweater, comfy shoes, and starts talking to kids in that soft voice was just too gooey. How could anyone be that uniformly cheery? Was he unfazed by a misplaced pair of glasses? A disagreement with the bank? A bad hair day? Was he impervious to life?
Now that I've entered the status of elder statesman in my school, it's dawned on me that Fred and I have a lot in common. For starters, we both believe deeply and unshakably that we make a difference in young people's lives.
But I must admit that sometimes I have my moments of disappointment and wonder whether I've been outpaced by pop culture. I wonder if Fred has some days when he just doesn't want to put on that lumpy sweater? But then for me, and I'll bet for Fred, the bedrock belief in the humanity of our missions, a common mantra that we preach every day, perhaps to ourselves as well as to our young charges, kicks in and returns us to our bearings. Toward the constant North Star of our belief, to make sure that kids know that "They matter."
Mr. Rogers's set piece of opening each day with the same reassuring routine is about consistency, providing something our young audience can count on, to signal them that they're back in our "neighborhood," a place where they fit in, and are important.
I don't have the cardigan sweater, but I do have my own morning routines to which kids become accustomed, and even begin to emulate. Like the time last spring when I was a couple of minutes late arriving to my classroom. I walked in to find a small line of students at my desk, and one of my ambitious students efficiently collecting homework by using the routine she'd seen me use for months. I smiled widely and pulled a chair up beside her as she completed the task.
Her initiative led other students to ask to perform that chore on subsequent mornings, laying claim to a big chunk of their "neighborhood" and showing me that my talks exhorting them to be responsible for their learning had taken hold. I'll bet Fred would have loved that. I know I did.
Like Mr. Rogers, I aim to have open discussions with my fourth graders using what I call "Life Talks," and Fred would call his "Conversations" for the day. Fred with the pre-kindergartners at the other end of the camera, me with my fourth graders sitting in front of me. Subjects such as death, divorce, cruelties and unfairnesses of life, mingle with light hearted, often very amusing talks about pet peeves, the joys and tribulations of having siblings, and our "faves" of just about everything.
Mr. Rogers and I both may be dismayed at seeing youngsters exposed to so much violence and fast paced entertainment. But that just adds fuel to our vision to provide them with slower paced activities, chances to reflect on who they are, how they fit in, and how we're interconnected with each other.
Every day Fred produced Mr. Roger's neighborhood, and every day I produce Mr. Tamburello's classroom. They are both places that value a sense of community, encourage asking questions, and recognize the emotions which are part of the landscape of growing up. We both love to invite guests into our "neighborhoods" to introduce our audiences to a broad variety of influences and interests.
Hmmm... maybe I'll go shopping this weekend. That cardigan sweater and comfy pair of shoes don't look as hokey as they used to.
Paul Tamburello is a teacher and writer who has taught fourth grade in Brookline since 1970.
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