I was jarred when it dawned on me a little while back that many children aren’t being taught nursery rhymes and fairy tales any more. Stories and rhymes that have been passed on for hundreds of years and that have cultural significance may, indeed, die. Things change, of course. But why?
In this case, I think there are two reasons. One is that fairy tales and nursery rhymes were part of a verbal tradition that is definitely waning. Parents traditionally told these stories and taught them to their children, often without having a book to guide them. We all just knew them. Now, with both parents working and busy schedules, there’s less time for one-on-one entertainment. Videos can do the job. But that’s not the whole explanation for why fairy tales and nursery rhymes are endangered.
I think parents today find them too scary and creepy for their children. I certainly can’t argue with the creep factor. A girl is taking food to her grandmother and finds that she’s been eaten by a wolf. Two children are taken to the woods and deliberately abandoned – near a witch’s house. There are some very scary stepmothers out there and it’s possible to stay too long at the ball or the fair.
I enjoyed these stories and poems and never lost a moment’s sleep over them. Of course, it’s unsafe in the woods alone. Yes, there are bad people – some of them pretty witchy – out there. Don’t take candy from strangers – or eat their candy houses! These are cautionary tales.
Mother Goose has a different problem. The rhymes are just plain odd. Many nursery rhymes are thought to have been thinly veiled political satire. They have their own scary factor: humanoid eggs get smashed beyond repair, the ladybug’s home is on fire and her children are alone, and somebody killed Cock Robin. They also have a delicious sense of wonder: the cow jumps over the moon and the dish runs away with the spoon.
There’s a growing protectiveness among parents that wasn’t around when I was growing up. We didn’t slather on sunscreen except at the pool, we roamed the neighborhood for hours unchaperoned, we probably weren’t hydrated at all times. But we were protected in other ways: foul language and sexual content on TV were censored, people didn’t wear T-shirts with obscenities on them, certain “feminine” products weren’t advertised on T.V. There’s no possible way to protect children from growing up too fast today in a 24-hour news cycle.
(By the way, there were child molesters and kidnappers when I was growing up. Young as I was, I was aware of the Greenlease kidnapping everyone was talking about – particularly since I lived in St. Louis. I even recall a sick joke about it. My mother gave us the appropriate training about not going with strangers and she was very definite about it.)
Our old Mother Goose book is the most worn of all my children’s book – evidence of how much we loved it with its vivid illustrations. You can see the pencil numberings my sister put in. She was frustrated by the book’s lack of an index and so she numbered the rhymes and then matched them up with the alphabetical list of rhymes, so she could easily find her favorites.
I chose the seesaw because that’s another thing that’s disappeared. I can’t argue that seesaws weren’t dangerous. I can argue that they were really fun. But part of the fun was slamming them down or trying to bounce the other person off. I never got hurt on one but I know there were occasionally smashed fingers. So they’ve disappeared from playgrounds along with merry-go-rounds (the kind you get spinning fast and then jump on), which were also great fun.
For more reading on children’s books, I recommend The Annotated Mother Goose, and the works of Iona and Peter Opie
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