Down with Elmo!

My daughter will hit the 15-month mark next weekend.  At this age, the transition from generic picture books and big buttoned contraptions to videos and sing-along toys is happening quickly.  Many of the newest additions to our overflowing living room carry the vaunted Sesame Workshop label.  This inundation of tchotchkes from the Street has led me to a very dark realization.

I hate Elmo.

Let’s put aside that he talks like a Jersey Shore cast member with a mouthful of helium (listen closely.  I think you’ll agree), only refers to himself in the third person (who does he think he is, the Rock?) and giggles at the end of nearly every sentence like a high-pitched chain smoker.  I can live with all that.  After all, most things designed for little kids are extremely annoying to grown-ups (I’d also like to throw my kid’s singing dinosaur scooter into a tar pit, but I won’t, because I know she loves it).

I hate Elmo because he represents the transition of Sesame Street from the cream of the educational programming crop into a marketing machine that prioritizes selling products over teaching children.  We have a lot of Elmo stuff in our house and much of it serves little purpose beyond entertainment.  Even the learning materials seem like a blatant attempt to cram in as many characters as possible to appeal to the largest possible consumer base.

I grew up in a generation that learned numbers, letters, colors and shapes from the Count, Oscar and the rest of the gang, so I’m sure this rant is partly due to my nostalgia and resistance to change.  I’m also not so naïve as to think merchandising hasn’t always been a priority at Sesame.  My first favorite book, “The Great Pigeon Race,” was a Sesame Street story that taught me nothing except that pigeons apparently wear leather helmets and goggles.  Nevertheless, it still seemed that the toys and games always took a back seat to Sesame Workshop’s genuine desire to help kids learn.

Then Elmo came along and completely stole the show.  And he’s brought almost nothing to the table.  He was created for one reason – commercialization.  What’s he most famous for?  Probably two things – the “Tickle Me Elmo” doll and “Elmo’s Song.”  Neither of these does anything to help build a child’s cognitive abilities.  Yet, parents have fought in the aisles over that insufferable doll and that mind-numbing song just won’t go away.

That said, I know plenty of teaching still takes place on the Sesame Street program (even Elmo’s World), and I hope my kid watches it when she’s a little older.  But, looking at the bigger picture, the opportunities to supplement the show’s educational lessons with related merchandise are getting watered down with all the other mindless junk being dumped into the marketplace.  These days, Sesame Workshop is as much a toy company as it is a beacon of learning.

And it all starts with that squeaky red furball with the big orange nose.