My young cousins are banned from watching television. Well, not
banned exactly, but they are not allowed to watch any TV on school nights. Apparently this doesn’t particularly bother them: most of their friends are in similar positions.
I used to watch a lot of television as a child. I remember my sister and I regularly waking up at 5:30 in the morning to watch a show called ‘Head To Head’, in which teenagers competed against each other at video games. Some of my most pleasurable conversations as an adult have essentially been exercises in nostalgia for such childhood fare. My favourite memories of school are of teachers playing us videos in science or history, so that we could not only read about such topics but
see them before our eyes.
I respect the decision of my aunt and uncle to severely limit my cousins’ intake of television. Of course it would not be good for children, or anyone else, to ossify in front of the TV as purely passive recipients of ideas rather than active contributors to the world around them. It would be physically and mentally extremely unhealthy to spend
all one’s free time in front of the TV, and many parents, it seems, deem it more effective simply to ban it rather than to engage in undoubtedly interminable arguments with their offspring about how many minutes or hours of TV per night is permissible.
But in moderation television can be stimulating, entertaining, educational, awe-inspiring and an extremely valuable source of ideas. The American poets Amy Ludwig VanDerwater and Charles Ghigna have written a poem which, I think, indirectly highlights the dangers of watching too much television. The poem is called ‘Unplugged’, and is dated 22/02/2013. You can read it
here. I really liked the rhythm of the piece, and I thought I’d adopt a similar style in constructing a light-hearted response. Here it is:
Plugged
an alien spaceship
a quick burst
of fire
a mafia mob don
is wearing
a wire
a dinosaur prowling
through lush
vegetation
the first ever steam train
pulls into
the station
a gladiatorial
fight
to the death
a tiny new polar bear
breathes
its first breath –
a lifetime of awe
in an hour
or three
is awaiting you when
you turn on
your TV.
