Lois Lyda

A while ago,  I visited a TV-free home -  my friend, a homeschooling mother of four - and left feeling a surprising, yet real sense of peace.  I didn’t immediately notice the absence of a TV.  The usual  places for a TV were occupied by a piano, a fireplace lined with pictures, a book shelf, a window.  I took note as the 8-year-old contentedly sat on the couch reading Ann of Green Gables.  The other three took charge of their own imaginations playing contentedly with a small selection of  simple toys.  I was amazed.  How does she do it without the TV?  Why would she do it?  Seeing how well she managed, how well her kids managed for that matter, I was lead inevitably to question my own reliance on TV as parenting “help”. 

When the FCC came out with cautioning remarks about the negative influence of TV on young children, mothers cried out against this measure, saying, “How will I cook dinner or clean house without the TV?” With this reaction, it’s a wonder  our culture survived before 1958 when TV became a standard household companion.  Nowadays the TV has become not only commonplace, but a necessity for most families.  It is not that we can’t live without it, it’s just that we don’t know how.   We have adapted to restless images and accustomed ourselves to background noise and call it “multitasking.” 

 Of course this “multitasking” training begins so early that we unknowingly teach our children how not to concentrate.  Children interupt their own imaginative play to stare at frenzied images on a two-dimentional screen.  It’s been dubbed the parent’s most convenient babysitter; it’s always available, and it’s cheap.  But is it quality time well spent? 

When our family grew from one child to two, I was overwhelmed.  The couch was overflowing with laundry that needed sorting and putting away.  The sink was fermenting with dirty dishes.  I felt as though my only chance at keeping afloat, was to get another couch (for more laundry seating), throw the laundry away, or turn on the TV and let my son “zone out” while I “got things done.”   I really and truly wanted to educate and enjoy my children, but the stress of managing a home wore on me and won.   I felt that Emmanuel could at least retreat to the happy place in TV-land.  Deep down, this bothered me.  After a while I realized that much of the stress I was feeling was guilt.  But it wasn’t laundry guilt (although the smell of the wild underpants rotting in the basket made me feel a little below housewife par).   

When he watched TV, his  animated, energetic, smiling demeanor changed.  All the color from his face seemed to drain into the TV the longer he sat motionless and mesmorized.  Even standing on my head and juggling could not break his trance.  His eyes lost their luster, their life, and it seemed he had been zapped or drugged by the TV.   He didn’t seem himself.  Furthermore, when the TV went off, my son would spiral into a rage.  He became arbitrarily agressive and angry.  My belief in the so-called “happy place” began to change. 

 It has taken me several months first to warm up to the idea then to muster the courage to unplug.  I will continue to share my journey towards TV-free living as I go.

Considering our yard is a truncated 10 x 10 space not much bigger than our livingroom, I’m amazed at the creation capacity it has:  Snap peas, squash and spinach, raspberries and two blackberry bushes, a fruit cocktail tree, a patriotic rose of sharron, a flowering pair tree, roses, climbing jasmin, and wild flowers splashing color in unexpected places.  Gardening has always attracted me as a natural teacher to children of how life cycles work, and how things grow.  It never occured to me that our planting would attract other teachers as well. 

 A few days ago, our raspberries ready for the picking, we went out to gather our first harvest, only to discover that “someone” had beaten us to it; they were gone.  It wasn’t long before Emmanuel discovered a rabbit hopping around the wildflower jungle that is our yard. He chased after the rabbit with great excitement and curiosity; this small brown bunny was impossible to catch and excellent at hiding.  The next day, we went out to pick some spinach, only to find that this rabbit had exceptional timing.  Our garden may have been somewhat of a failure, but in many ways, provided an excellent oportunity to let nature teach us. 

 We took our son to Barnes & Noble the next day, and picked out the original authorized version of Beatrice Potter’s classic little book, “The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”  Encountering a wild “naughty” rabbit close to home, our son was instantly drawn to Peter.  The drawings are masterfully real, and the charaters are personified in such a way as to remain true to nature (well, besides the fact that they are partly clothed and can talk!).  We were able to sympathize with the antagonist gardener Mr. McGreggor chasing after Peter, and understand the importance of obedience;  Old Mrs. Rabbit told her bunnies to stay away for their protection, not for their punishment.    

Peter still visits our garden frequently, though he’s not too fond of the sprinklers.  We really should get a fence to protect our produce, or our blackberries will be next.  Until then, we will observe our Peter Rabbit as he interacts with our garden during the day, and read stories about him at night.