The recent onset of Christmas advertising means one thing: commercials that make me want to throw things at the TV set. I saw an ad this weekend that just about made me lose it. The product being mongered is a rascally Teddy Rukspin-esque talking bear called TJ Bearytales Educational Toy: A Child’s Animated Storytelling Friend (TJ, we are informed, stands for Theodore James).
When the commercial opens, a young boy is lying on the floor of an immaculate living room, flipping the pages of a book aimlessly as he watches the animatronic bear gesture and tell a story. “With TJ Bearytales, he’s learning to love books,” a female voice narrates. The frame then shifts to the child sitting on his mother’s lap, and they both stare, captivated, at ol’ TJ . “He’s absorbed in the stories, and he’s using his imagination,” the narrator continues, in what I suspect is meant to be an earnest, proud voice. The spot ends with TJ singing “Sharing the gift of sto-o-ries” (made especially creepy by the fact that his mouth is barely moving).
There are so many things wrong with this ad, I don’t even know where to start. I guess I just find it sad that any parent would rather place her child in front of a robot to listen to (and “watch”) stories. Even sadder and more bizarre is why any parent would let a robot do the “reading” when she is present to do it herself.
Some of my favourite childhood memories involve being read to, unwrapping gifts of new books, and hauling loads of loans home from the public library. Similarly, some of the most memorable moments I spend with my young nieces involve reading to or with them. I love Christmas and birthdays because they give me an excuse to go down to Kidsbooks and browse until I find the perfect books. To equate giving the gift of reading with going down to a big box store and picking up one of these toys is absurd.
There is an abundance of wonderful, intelligent, funny, silly, and immensely enjoyable children’s literature that is both reasonably priced for purchase and freely available at public libraries. To suggest that the unpleasant task of “learning to love books” can be facilitated by a two-pound audio device swathed in polyester fur and a bunch of pages stitched, bound, and labelled “My Bear-riffic Trip to Outer Space” speaks volumes (pardon the pun) about how important society and advertisers think childhood literacy is.
I can’t believe that anyone would purchase the product, much less conceive of it. But then, would you expect anything more from a company that can’t even spell the word “school” properly? I thought not.