The beauty and strength of a design emerge in the simplicity of its form. “Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Airman’s Odyssey, 1942). Pyramid. Triangle. Nest. Screw. Spider web. Cat’s tongue. Wheel. Beehive. Spiral. Breath. In It’s like breath, I asked: What might we find if we attune to the breathscape of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood? How might we broaden our seeing of the breath beyond the pattern of in-and-out in the episodes, and stay open to what else the breath might reveal? I’ve stayed with this inquiry to listen into its unfolding. And here, the spiral emerged and said, “Here I am.” During our last 2023-24 Episode Study Group meeting (part of the learning landscape of Educators’ Neighborhood), we watched the last few minutes of both the first episode and the last episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. The first episode aired on February 19, 1968. In its closing, Mister Rogers says: “It’s good to visit, isn’t it? It’s good to go away, but it’s good to come back, too. I’m going to have to go away for a little while, until tomorrow. I’m going to go back to work now. But we’ll be able to visit together tomorrow. […] I’m going to be thinking about you until I come back.” The last episode, #1765 (Mister Rogers Celebrates the Arts), aired August 31, 2001. In its closing, Mister Rogers says: “There are many ways of saying who you are and how you feel. Ways that can be so helpful. Ways that don’t hurt yourself or anybody else. You know, that’s how you can tell when you’re grown up inside, you’re sure that what you’re planning and doing are things that can be a real help to you and your neighbor. I’m proud of you, you know that. I hope you do. (Sings “I’m Proud of You.”) I am. […] I like being your television neighbor.” We were all struck by what isn’t in the final episode. There is no good-bye. No remark about the passage of time that led to the final episode. No reference to first or last. There isn’t an ending. A spiral winds itself around a point, its curve is continuous, expanding outward. Squash tendril. Snail shell. Cut of cabbage. Water down a drain. Tip of your finger. There is a pattern in a spiral. It’s countable, predictable, contained in its logic. It’s also infinite, whimsical, expansive in wonder and awe. Select any episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood… any year… any week… any day… and select any single point: tie of shoes, neighborly chat, factory visit, Mister Rogers talking to you, trolley sound, moment with X the Owl, song with Daniel Striped Tiger, feeding of the fish, kitchen table, Let’s take a look at this, knock at the door… and there you will find the spiral. Each point inside each episode holds this shape and invites the continuous curve outward. Each point is beginning and end, seed and tree, give and receive, go into yourself and out again. To walk a labyrinth is to step into an opening, follow a path to the center, and wind your way out again. In the walking, especially when you walk it again and again, the spiral begins to walk you. It holds you so you might loosen and lift into a deeper experience of yourself as everything. To watch an episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood is to be held inside a frame that lets you remember who you are. You step into the Neighborhood, walk with Mister Rogers to explore and sing and play and wonder, and wind your way back to the doorway, change your shoes, and go out again. Because there is a beginning and end to each episode, there is no beginning and end to your experience inside it. Nor is there a need for a beginning and end to the (whole) collection of episodes—each episode (and every point inside) is also whole. Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood is the spiral, holds points of spiral, and all who visit are invited to breathe into (be) the spiral, too. In his commencement speech at Dartmouth College in 2002, Fred Rogers said: “Our world hangs like a magnificent jewel in the vastness of space. Every one of us is a part of that jewel, a facet of that jewel. And in the perspective of infinity, our differences are infinitesimal. We are intimately related.” The small is big. The big is small. The spiral holds it all. “I want you to see something (Mister Rogers holds up an African violet plant with many flowers). Let’s just take a long look at these… (13 seconds of silence)” [from Episode 1697]. The interest of educators (and other helpers) to explore and wonder in the Fred Rogers Institute Archive and study the episodes of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood continues to grow. From my experience and witness, this is not due to any increase of nostalgia. The interest emerges from a deep and rigorous commitment to cultivate relevance, connection, love, joy, curiosity, and wellbeing for all children, families, educators, communities, and the many professions of caregivers. Sure, there are some topics and situations inside episodes of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood that through our 2024-lens we see with more nuance, and there are certainly many opportunities to giggle at the historical difference in wardrobe choices and turns of phrase. Yet the essence of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood is timeless. Not because of a longing to hold on to the “past” or because it makes us “feel good.” The timelessness lives in the simplicity of the spiral. At the end of Episode 1665 (Love), Mister Rogers looks into the camera and says: “It’s very important to look inside yourself and find that loving part of you. That’s the part that you must take good care of and never be mean to, because that’s the part of you that allows you to love your neighbor. And your neighbor is anyone you happen to be with at any time of your life. Respecting and loving your neighbor can give everybody a good feeling.” Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood will always hold its shape. In any context, in any time, to all who choose to journey inside it. Its curve will continue to expand outward as breath, connecting all of us as everything. In gratitude, Melissa -- Melissa A. Butler is a Senior Fellow in Teaching and Learning with the Fred Rogers Institute. Connect with her: here and here.
Compassion Fatigue
Compassion fatigue is the toll of sharing in the emotions and concerns of the people that you care for. Compassion fatigue is more than burnout or weariness.
Educators and caregivers who look to Fred Rogers for inspiration often ask the
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From Captain to Co-Pilot: How Family Engagement Changes Over Time
Explore the transformation of family engagement in children's education with Mallary Swartz, Ph.D., and Emma Swift Lee, Ed.M., in this insightful ParentPowered webinar. Keywords: Child developmental stages, parent school relationships
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