The other night we broke with recent tradition and tried a new cartoon as part of the bedtime routine. Instead of Dora we watched something that Kerry had found on channel 5, Little Einsteins. As far as I could make out its main purpose was to teach preschoolers to distinguish between Schubert’s string quartet in A minor and Beethoven’s piano concerto No. 1 in C major.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for educational children’s programs, but surely there has to be some sort of prioritising process? Call me old fashioned but I’d rather my child learnt to count or recognise colours than be able to identify a harpsichord at twenty paces.
Little Einsteins didn’t just stop at classical music however, it made sure it got in a good dollop of expressionist art in too. At one point they had to go and find some sunshine in order to make a crop of plants fruit into flutes, violas and various other instruments. To do this they took their rocket ship (that was powered by clapping along in time to classical music no less) and visited a landscape that looked suspiciously like Vincent Van Gogh’s Olive Tree’s with Yellow sky and Sun. They then coaxed the sun to follow them back to their farm by playing yet more classical music to it.
The main characters are four pre school children with different nauseating specialities:
Leo, the leader, loves to conduct orchestras (lets face it what six year old doesn’t); June dances ballet; Quincy plays the violin; and Annie likes to sing. Of course all the minorities are included in this line up: African American, Asian American, and ginger people.
As you might be able to tell I didn’t like the show very much. I apologise if it’s top of your own personal recommended watching lists, but to me its just pretentious twaddle. Kids should be learning about whether a cow says moo or baa, not what allegro and pianissimo mean. Don’t people know that we’re supposed to be living in a postmodern era? There isn’t meant to be a class division between high and low art any more, my cultural studies lecturer told me so.
Ah well, perhaps I’m just bitter that there are some children out there who are conditioned into liking nice relaxing classical music, whereas I have to put up with Old MacDonald and the Hokey Cokey every time I take Amy anywhere in the car.
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on Sep 11th, 2006 at 2:25 pm
is your hokey cokey the same as our hokey pokey…where “you stick your left arm in and shake it all about”? and what of the chicken dance in merry ol’ england? i pray the macarena never finds you…
:o)
on Sep 11th, 2006 at 5:03 pm
Yes, the hokey cokey is the same as your hokey pokey. Not sure about the chicken dance although we have the birdie song, and the macarena is already here. We had the Ketchup song too courtesy of a spanish girl group a few years back, that was a delight…
on Sep 11th, 2006 at 5:29 pm
Hokey pokey? Pokey?? What sort of sense does that make?? I pity your American children singing such gibberish. Now, Hokey COKEY - that’s a lyric that speaks to you.
Hokey pokey indeed! Tisk.
on Sep 12th, 2006 at 12:31 am
my rendition of the hokey COKEY.
“you snort one line in, you blow one vein out…” and so on until dead.
now i’m gonna see if i can find anybody doing the chicken dance online…stay tuned.
on Sep 12th, 2006 at 1:10 am
wow, finding someone dancing the chicken dance correctly was quite challenging, but here it is in all it’s blurred glory. enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6gzsVT0XYk
on Sep 12th, 2006 at 4:27 pm
That\’s you on that video, admit it.
It appears that the chicken dance is indeed the same as the birdy dance. The name might change but the graceful dance moves are universal it seems.
on Sep 14th, 2006 at 8:16 pm
Would it be wrong of me to mention that Einstein was a Violinist as well?
on Sep 14th, 2006 at 8:32 pm
Bugger.
on Nov 4th, 2006 at 3:36 pm
[...] Amy has developed a strong like for the TV program Little Einsteins; and so, despite my previous protestations, it has become a semi regular feature in the bedtime routine. In one episode the gang of irritating twerps child prodigies visit China. They have to find a number of kites, or some such rubbish, I rarely pay too much attention. [...]