Unhelpful

Last week, a story in the Boston Globe, “Young Potter readers need to talk, grieve“, describes the emotional trauma experienced by fans of the Harry Potter series when, in the latest installment, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince“, Professor Dumbledore dies.

Put away your fucking parenting books, people.

SPOILER WARNING:

Bambi’s mom was shot by hunters. Old Yeller was shot because he had to be put down because of rabies. Mr. Hooper dies, and leaves the store to David. Tasha Yar gets blasted to death.

This whole enterprise seems like the second act of a play which began with the change in hosts on the children’s TV show “Blues Clues” (hey, I’ve got a little nephew). One day, Steve’s hosting. A week later, Joe’s in charge. No big deal, except for the fact that there are, to accompany this change, articles in newspapers and magazines and on Nickelodeon’s website on helping children deal with change.

When did children become so emotionally fragile that dealing with the death of fictional characters became as serious as dealing with the death of actual relatives? Certainly, kids themselves are going to make that leap and it wouldn’t be surprising for a conversation to go from Bambi’s mom dying to asking why Aunt Joanie died. That’s healthy and normal. What is neither healthy or normal is this notion that parents have to proactively pre-counsel children who are going to experience Fictional Character Death (FCD later), or that they need grief management therapy afterwards.

I remember when Bambi’s mom was shot. It was sad. I was small. I cried. I told my mom I never wanted her to die (it didn’t work, sadly). I had a strange lump in my throat for a few hours. Then, a few hours later, I did what kids do: I bounced back.

It is generally my experience that people will lower themselves to whatever insufficient expectations you have for them. If you are in a management position, the surest, most dependable way to make sure your employees act like children is to treat them like it. If, however, you treat them like adults, most will live up to that, too. There are of course, exceptions, and these exceptions can be summed up in two words: drama queens (definition note: the male form of the phrase ‘drama queen’ is also ‘drama queen’). There’s almost always nothing you can do with people like that to make them act like adults, but if you lower your treatment of everyone else to that level, you’ve got a self-fulfilling prophecy on your hands.

It’s the same with children. If you want a picky eater, then try to bribe him with “bites games” where you negotiate behavior as if eating were on par with signing an international weapons non-proliferation agreement. If you want a child who is defiant and disrespectful, threaten to punish her, and never follow through, or start the punishment, and ease off it after you start feeling bad. If you want a child who has a sense of entitlement, just give them everything they want, and start by making sure you have a special treat in hand whenever you go to the store, without exception. If, however, you would like a child who is an emotional basket case, turn every minor setback into a class study on how alarming life’s travails can be, and be sure to offer so much grief counseling afterwards that there’s no possible way to take anything in stride.

Some of the examples in the Globe article aren’t even from children who are of the age where FCD death should be new or confusing to a child. I’m not suggesting that death should be a continual source of humor and amusement, nor am I for a second suggesting that FCD can’t teach real-life lessons regardless of age. This said, though, I don’t think a 14-19 year young adult should be so sheltered and emotionally vulnerable that the death of Professor Dumbledore makes them disconsolate and unable to cope. Sad movies, done right, can make me cry, but extended grief management and web-based community group therapy sessions?

Dramatic fiction without (fictional) danger is goddamn dull. Perry Mason always solved the case. You knew it going in. The Mystery Machine kids (with ‘help’ from Scoobie) were always going to find out the ghost pirates were a hoax by an old real estate developer with a rubber mask. You knew it going in. Every member of the GI Joe team, despite being shot at a dozen or more times each, was going to survive to see another episode. You knew it going in. It’s goddamn dull. FCD - especially when the character in question is one of an inner circle of reader/viewer favorites - offers a chance to move the storyline forward, to show other characters’ reactions to adversity, and for the author to offer readers/viewers a deeper look at characters (and character), meaning, family, friendship, and other important relationships.

If, however, we as a society try to guide our children away from everything that’s hurtful, mean, sad, or disappointing, or offer victim counseling after the fact, regardless of context or scope, lessening the author’s dramatic license is not the worst thing we’re going to do…

…we’re going to raise a generation of emotional cripples. Invest in pharmaceutical stocks.