Blog I Karen Brooks

This is my column that appeared in the Courier Mail on Wednesday, 20 July 2011:

An “urgent” proposal by parents and cyberbullying experts to have social media such as FaceBook and Twitter taught in the classroom is attracting mixed reactions.

Director of social media intelligence firm, SR7, Thomas Tudehope believes a social media “module” should be introduced into the national curriculum.

Does including classes that focus on netiquette in an already overcrowded curriculum provide a solution to the growing problem of cyberbullying and texting?

Or is this a case, yet again, of what should fall under the broad banner of “parenting” being outsourced to teachers?

Sex, religion and other subjects once understood as the province of families are also being handed over to schools for delivery.

What becomes too hard for ‘time poor’ and/or inept parents to handle, or arouses moral panic, is tossed to teachers.

We already complain that young people don’t know how to spell, that grammar has gone the way of vinyl records and that manners are something they have on Downtown Abbey.

But, instead of investing in core subjects that broaden and enrich the mind, we treat schools as one-stop-shops for basic life-skills.

When it comes to sex, religious and now social media education, beyond what can be taught as ‘fact’ (reproduction, biology, the number of religions in the world and where they originate, the types of social media and how they function), there’s a vast grey area where ideas about right and wrong are not only subjective but rely upon an agreed moral framework to operate.

Schools can inform young people about the pragmatics of sex, but the emotional and psychological fall-out – how someone feels, how they’re viewed, the intimacy, the potential for harm, confusion and pleasure, is the parents’ responsibility.

Often these things are either role-modelled by important adults in children’s lives and/or they’re discussed as a rite-of-passage. Whether we like it or not, peers may even fulfill that role.

Sex education is a morally ambiguous area that conflates personal history, religion, culture and gender.

Funnily enough, social media is also one of those. Schools can teach their students about its purpose, accessibility and how to use it. They can and do warn about the dangers of cyberbullying, sexting and all the other problematic behaviours that this type of technology provokes and which sets off community alarm bells.

But, just like sex education, it doesn’t matter how many classes are offered, they can’t instill in students an awareness of how individual behaviour and words impact upon others. Not alone. Nor can an educator be expected to explain or teach about kindness, manners, honour, respect, trust and putting others before yourself.

They can only hope to reinforce what’s already there.

Suggesting that these type of lessons, which become mired in competing value systems – the individual, family and community – be delivered in exclusive lessons, might be great for headlines, and for passing the buck, but they don’t work.

This is before we consider that many schools ban social media anyway. Young people access it through their mobile technology – that which their parents have purchased for them and which they take to school in spite of the rules.

But how long are we going to fall back on the notion that young people don’t understand the long-term effects of their online behaviour? Especially when there are so many real world examples – positive and negative – out there. There’s only so many times a person can be warned, regardless of age, before they have to own their actions and the consequences.

Bullies aren’t confined to cyberspace. They exist in the real world of children and adults. Social media reflects their presence, it doesn’t create them.

Sadly, the inclination to torment and vilify was there before the internet gave it an outlet.

Once again, social media is being held accountable for what is a human failing.

In demonizing social media and its users, we fail to recognise those who deploy it in responsible, polite and meaningful ways – beyond the classroom as well.

Good values, manners and respect cannot be learned at school alone. They can be reinforced in that environment, but teachers are not surrogate parents and the sooner we allow them to get on with their primary job, not ours, and support each other, the better off we’ll all be.

This is the unedited version of the column that appears in the COurier Mail, 1 June 2011:

You know parenting and society have reached a critical point when an early childhood education specialist claims that children’s playgrounds, the last bastion of kiddy fun, are ‘too safe’.

At an Early Childhood Conference in Melbourne this week, Prue Walsh also said that playground injuries were often a result of children being poorly co-ordinated because they didn’t know how to negotiate risks.

The expression ‘cotton wool kids’ has become a popular euphemism to describe this generation of kids, who are so mollycoddled by their parents, they have no resilience or ability to cope with obstacles or failure – in the playground and well beyond.

Afraid of their children becoming victims of everything from bullying to sunburn, kids are being denied access to their natural environment. Instead and, quite ironically, children are installed in the ‘safety’ of an artificial one – their homes, usually in front of a screen.

Termed ‘strawberries’ in Taiwan (because they’re tough on the outside but soft on the inside), contemporary kids are deprived of access to the type of play that children for centuries enjoyed, suffered and, most importantly, survived.

But what are the long-term consequences of this denial?

According to a range of experts, they’re pretty dire.

In his book, Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv writes that the ‘indoor generation’ of children we’ve raised has created a ‘disconnection between childhood and nature.’ He calls it ‘nature-deficit disorder’ and equates it to a form of sensory deprivation.

In his book No Fear: Growing Up In A Risk-Averse Society, UK early childhood expert Tim Gill warns of over-protecting children.

Gill asserts that removing potential dangers deprives children of the ability to evaluate and react accordingly to risks. He cites playground rubber padding, a mandatory feature in most nations, as an example, stating that it may be less safe than the old-style hard surfaces.

This is partly because in understanding the hazards involved both children and parents were more vigilant.

In a backlash against ‘cotton wool kids’, the ‘slow-parenting’ movement has been established in the US and Canada.

Carl Honore, who wrote the book, Under Pressure: Putting the Child Back in Childhood, says he’s felt a sea-change in the last 18 months. From the opening of outdoor preschools in Canada or the British government telling schools they’ve gone too far in shutting down field trips because of minute injury risk, there’s a groundswell against being over-protective.

When Honore asks audiences about their strongest childhood memories, most of those over age 25 remember being outside and a lack of restriction, whereas those under 25 have indoor recollections that feature electronics.

The second annual ‘Take Our Children to the Park and Leave Them There Day’ was held in New York recently, organized by the founder of the ‘Free Range Kids’ movement, Lenore Skenazy. In 2008, she wrote about letting her then nine-year-old son ride the subway alone, and scandalized a nation.

Her provocative actions were also a call to sanity.

We’ve never lived in safer times, and yet we’re the most apprehensive group of parents ever. We feed off the plethora of horror stories, anecdotal, media-driven and share them – about criminals lurking in all corners, every stranger being a danger, of the terror of cyberspace, and what can befall anyone who ignores these perils.

If our children do take a tumble, or, sadly, are seriously hurt, we seek to punish everyone by altering the landscape, setting ridiculous boundaries and rules, banning, or even suing for what is often an accident, not a deliberate attempt to sabotage childhood.

Gerard Jones, author of Killing Monsters: Why Children Need Fantasy, Super Heroes, and Make-Believe Violence, writes, ‘Adult anxieties about the effects of entertainment are sometimes the real causes of the very effects we fear most.’

There’s no doubt, parenting is a balancing act, but common sense should always tip the scales. Avoiding or changing playgrounds and outdoor play because of something that likely will never happen is often an hysterical overreaction that can cause more harm than good.

As Louv wistfully notes about his childhood experiences: ‘Those woods and fields shaped me; they were my Ritalin.’

Sun, grass, bruises, scrapes, dirt between the toes – now they’re highs every child should have.

This is the unedited version of my column that appears in the Viewpoint section of the Courier Mail, 25 May 2011.

While the Rapture may not have occurred, this week does mark the end of an era – the Oprah one.

The first of three final shows screens tonight, bringing to a close 25 remarkable years for Oprah as the host of the most beloved of daytime talk shows.

Not that Oprah is the shy, retiring type. She’s investing her famous energy in her OWN network and various other commercial arms that mix business and philanthropy.

Whether you love or loathe Oprah and/or what she represents, it’s hard not be impressed by the trails she’s blazed, the boundaries she’s challenged and the changes she’s wrought upon a genre once known as ‘homemaker entertainment’ that featured ‘nuts and sluts’ and the ‘freak of the week’.

Talk shows, which developed from talkback radio (and a mainly male audience), deliberately cultivated a female one during the 1970s. Breaking down the barriers between host, guests and audience, they were regarded as light and largely irrelevant ‘couch’ entertainment.

Pioneered by Phil Donahue in 1967, by the 80s, there were over 20 – the most popular being The Oprah Winfrey Show (1987), Geraldo, and tabloid shows fronted by Jenny Jones, Rikki Lake and Jerry Springer.

Relying on ordinary people to perform a ‘confessional’ before the camera, exposing their (dirty) secrets and baring their souls to a mass audience, the genre quickly became reviled. American media commentator, Dr Vicki Abt describing appearing on the programs as akin to ‘defecating in public.’

In an essay on daytime talk shows, Laura Grindstaff likens them to pornography, because they expose ‘people’s private parts in public.’

Just when her popularity was soaring in the mid 1990s, Oprah turned her back on that kind of production and instead focused on ‘living your best life’ and attempted to ‘teach’ her growing audiences to ‘live with purpose.’

Not that this philosophy prevented her from picking up numerous celebrities, many of whom are now close friends. Nor did it hinder her from getting them to spill their secrets and share their passions, fears and dreams with audiences – the most infamous being Tom Cruise’s couch fiasco. Now that was a ‘money shot.’

Accumulating vast wealth along the way, Oprah has also made her endorsement a guarantee for printing money – for authors, manufacturers and upcoming talents. Already, publishers and retailers are wondering how they can possibly fill the void that her show will leave. Advertising spots in her final programs are said to be worth $1 million dollars.

Being the most prominent African American woman in the world, she’s worked hard to combat racism, homophobia and numerous prejudices – and this is to her credit. Yet, to hear her spoken of is to enter a universe where acolytes worship at the altar of O. Certainly, the responses and emotions she stirs are akin to religious fervour, Sarah Hampson of the Globe and Mail referring to her as a ‘secular messiah.’

Only, criticize Oprah and you’ll be the one crucified.

In her tell-all book on Oprah, Kitty Kelley claims that the TV host always saw herself as ‘an instrument of God.’

Ironically, while a woman of very humble beginnings, she’s exceeded the status of the celebrities she interviews and become a brand unto herself – a fact of which she’s very aware.

But, for all her good works and intentions and her ability to face down taboos, Oprah also embodies a great deal that’s problematic. Known for her generosity, what she gives away is often donated by businesses keen to use her name to promote their product.

Likewise, in her attempt to seem ‘ordinary’, there’s a sense in which she comes across as narcissistic and more focused on ‘me’ than ‘you.’

Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Bright-Sided, How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America, says when she appeared on Oprah, it ‘…had a theme about women and poverty, and she made some statement about how really it’s all a matter of attitude. You can overcome anything. I was offended; horrified… It’s not bad to be optimistic … but it’s always a big mistake to delude yourself, to say as long as I think positively, the problems will go away.’

Others, like Hampson, feel that Oprah’s ‘common touch’ lies in the fact she’s as needy as her audiences. Ouch.

Perhaps food and travel personality, former chef, Anthony Bourdain best sums up Oprah’s contradictions. In an interview for the Not Quite Nigella blog this week, he says, ‘Don’t watch the show but I think how can you be against Oprah?…She’s made mistakes, sure I’ve seen them… Dr Phil, which we will all have to account for later. But on balance she’s on the side of angels.’

Maybe. I’ve no doubt the devil in us will be singing her praises for a while to come.