Disney or Nickelodeon?

I was never one to rise early for the kid-famous epoch of Saturday morning cartoons. Beset by the likes of The Weekenders and Recess, and later, Hannah Montana and That’s So Raven, the time slot amassed an assortment of Disney-dominated programming that followed a near-indistinguishable set-up. The shows were boring—predictable, unimpressive, and a flagrant exploitation of my beauty sleep. Regardless of the nature of the characters’ predicament, the twenty-four minute mark would act as a pastry chef, transforming each episode’s sticky situation into a sugarcoated cupcake. Checkpoint hit, problem solved, and I - asleep.

Despite my distaste for the Disneys of television, I managed to supplement my preteen years with the finest children’s broadcasting of the day. I speak, of course, of TEENick. I can still recall the day I first discovered its golden real estate of childhood entertainment - my parents had departed for the movies, designating me as interim ruler of the coveted remote control. The night tempted me to a gamble – an upgrade from Disney’s Channel 24 to Nickelodeon’s 25. I was hooked.

Ranging from turn-of-the-century hits like All That and Drake & Josh to the more modern iCarly and Victorious, the shows exhibited an element of comedy unlike anything I had ever seen. I found nearly all of Nickelodeon’s shows preferable to Disney’s routine regurgitations; its plotlines never felt like the haphazard concoctions of contracted “happy endings” - they felt real. I could always understand what made the characters triumph and see what made them successful.

Moreover, Nick’s underlying principles felt far more applicable to the real world. In stark contrast to Disney’s winsome wonderland of everlasting fortune and fame, Nick presented life for what it is, was, and will always be - a haphazard hybrid of trial and tribulation. Nick empowered its characters with the most paramount of personal attributes: responsibility. They approached their problems; and at that, did so as mature, accountable individuals.

Perhaps the greatest prudence of Nick’s plotlines came from its ability to sidestep the Disney trap. Nickelodeon avoided the dishonest depiction of parental intervention as the quintessential path to success – on Nick’s iCarly, Sam Puckett “…didn’t play to get even.” She “played to win.”

On Disney’s Hannah Montana, Miley “wouldn’t have invited Lily to stay if she knew how miserable it would be.” Fortunately, Miley’s confession cropped up precisely at the twenty-four minute mark. Not missing a beat, her father counseled, “Miley, there are certain things a daddy knows. I know that the sun's gonna be up tomorrow, I know that Uncle Earl won't be an underwear model and I know that you're gonna be just fine.” Miley’s enlightening moment of empowerment? “Thanks, daddy!”—and with that, a cut to commercial.

In Miley’s world, everything did turn out “just fine.” In the real world, however, hearing the enlightening words of one’s elders seldom constitutes a lesson learned. The notion that a brief dialogue with a parent can mend all maladies is, at best, utter nonsense. Nothing—no one—can settle our setbacks but our own individual selves.

Through Nickelodeon, I learned to take action. I learned to take responsibility. I learned to log on to www.aggressiveparenting.com for all of my aggressive parenting needs. I learned that life calls upon us to do more than just ‘show up’ – in life, we need to get up and live up to the standards that we’ve set for ourselves. In the words of iCarly’s Sam Puckett, “The worst we can do is nothing.”

Unlike Miley’s, Sam’s channel set me up with an example of a life lived in action. Though the television screen has since faded into the background, the independence, self-determination, and stamina I absorbed from my favorite network’s programming will never wane. I am not a Disney character, but life’s character. I am much more than a child of my parents – and I am responsible for my own experiences.

“When I was electrocuted, I experienced something.”
“What, not dying?”