The books my children have been given may not be sending the right message.
Case in point: Percival the Plain Little Caterpillar
This is a charming little book with psychedelic shimmering-foil colors that tells the tale of Percival, the caterpillar who is, in fact, plain. Plain brown. He wanders around the garden admiring all the other creatures for their colors: Bella the Bee for her shiny yellow stripes, Dennis the Dragonfly for his iridescent blue wings, Lizzie the Lizard for her odd, possibly-caused-by-radiation purple spots, and so on. All these characters are, at best, callous towards Percival's clear jealousy of their more garish hues, and at worst are positively cruel, mocking the poor little dope for his blandness. Finally Percival curls up into a chrysalis and sleeps--dreaming, he claims, of colors. When he awakens he has, of course, transformed into a butterfly, his wings glimmering and glowing with every shade he expressed insane jealousy over earlier. The other animals all look on admiringly.
The clear lesson: If others don't accept you, change yourself until they do.
Hooray.
A lot of children's stories work this way. They teach lessons of obedience, acceptance of social norms, and the unending quest to be accepted. There's some good in this, I suppose--it would be counterproductive to teach them at four to rebel against the system and embrace anarchy. But they are depressingly conformist.
Take the venerable story of the Ugly Duckling. In most versions, the duckling is taunted and shunned because he is, well, ugly. Real ugly. And of course it later turns out he was a cygnet and he blossoms into a beautiful swan and everyone feels very badly for being mean to him and wants to be his friend and get invited to his swank Hollywood parties, but by then the former Ugly Duckling (now calling himself the Bodacious Swan, or just "BS" to his friends--oh, how they do chuckle over that one at the Polo Lounge) no longer takes their calls and has his bodyguards split off from his entourage and lay the smack down on the other ducks when no one is looking. Or something like that, I think. It's been a while since I read the story.
In any case, the depressing lesson of this one is, "Don't be mean to unattractive people because they may grow up to be good looking." Not, "Don't be mean to unattractive people because it's not morally acceptable to do so," or even, "Don't be mean to unattractive people because they may be packing heat," but a clear warning that you may regret your cruelty because your victim may later turn out to be not so unattractive any more. Yikes. Even if you're trying to see it from the duckling's perspective, the idea is that you should hang in there because someday you may become beautiful and therefore more socially acceptable.
What if the Ugly Duckling stayed ugly? Would the taunting of the other fowl be justified? Would they swim about as he went through a difficult adolescence and morphed into the full-grown Ugly Duck, smugly secure in knowing their rejection was well deserved? Didn't anyone think this through?
I guess these stories are not as desperately violent as "The Three Little Pigs" (teaching the vital truth that it's important to follow all applicable local building codes) or "Little Red Riding Hood" (not fairyland's most observant little girl), nor does it endorse larceny on the scale of Goldilocks' (now serving 5-15 for breaking and entering and destruction of property), but it certainly seems that there must be more valuable lessons to teach. I guess we have to look to television to impart those important messages. Thank goodness for TV.
ps--I'm trying too hard now, aren't I?
7 comments:
Devin, can you check Marilyn's "sarcasm detection circuit"? I think its broken...
Once upon a time, there was a sad and lonely little duckling. He was sad and lonely because he was so drab and uninteresting to the other ducks. His bill was crooked, his feathers were always mussed, and no one liked to talk to him. "If only they could see me for who I am!" the Ugly Duckling cried. "We do," the ducks called back, "and we don't like what we see!"
Well, the Ugly Duckling endured a long and unpleasant childhood of taunting and beatings. Then he became a teenager, and not only was he ugly, but he developed a greasy skin condition that made it impossible for him to get a date with any of the ducks. They always laughed at him for his interest in machines and mathematics.
Finally, the Ugly Duckling went to college, earned many degrees, and got a lucrative job in the computer industry. He would come back to the pond of his childhood to flaunt his money in front of the other ducks he grew up with, all of whom were now drunks, drug addicts, and riddled with venereal diseases. He laughed so hard that hundred-dollar bills fell out of the pockets of his expensive suit, and he laughed some more as the other ducks fought each other over them. One of the ducks later died of internal bleeding.
The End
Poor Marilyn! Don't let that chump Chris pick on you. Melissa can sympathize. When I read Mike's post to her, she was kind of like "Hey, but I liked The Ugly Duckling! That was my favorite story as a kid!"
Last post was Dan, of course. I accidently hit Enter as I was rushing off to gather my students from recess.
Thanks, Marilyn.
I learned my lesson: never try.
Truth is that Dan was so eager to make fun of me, he hit return before he remembered to sign in.
Apparently when you try too hard you make me laugh out loud. So try on, sweet Michael, try on!
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