I See You

Greg around 6 years after watching Romper Room

Romper, bomper, stomper, boo.

Tell me, tell me, tell me, do.

Magic Mirror, tell me today,

did all my friends have fun at play?

Chances are high that if you were a preschooler between 1963 and 1974, you remember watching Romper Room. If so, did you sit in front of the TV set at the end of the show, waiting for the cheery teacher, Miss Nancy, to see you and call your name as she looked through her Magic Mirror?

Greg did.

When I lead my Zoom fitness classes each morning, the little boxes on my computer monitor remind me of the game show Hollywood Squares. Unlike Hollywood Squares, though, most of the boxes at the top of my screen are dark, with only a name and no face or body. Most people leave their cameras off. I suspect they may want to keep their PJs on.

But on a recent day, there was Greg! Dressed for exercise, he appeared eager and was soon following along fabulously, working hard. Delighted, I called out, “I see you, Greg!”

Later that morning I received this email from him:

“You've said a couple of times that you can see me during class. That gave me a flashback to about sixty years ago when I was a little kid and I'd watch a children's program called Romper Room. They would sing songs, read stories, etc. At the show's closing, the host would hold up her Magic Mirror (basically an empty mirror frame), look through it at the camera, and call out the names of the children she ‘saw’ (“I see Jimmy, and there's Mary…”). Every time, I'd get right up in front of the TV, hoping she'd see me, but she never did. So you saying you could see me made my inner child very happy.”

It wasn’t even noon yet and I was delighted for the second time in one day. What a heartfelt memory Greg had shared.

Imagine four-year-old Greg, sitting in his spacious 1960s living room in front of the bulky black-and-white TV set, eagerly waiting as Miss Nancy brings out her Magic Mirror. I can picture the young boy, his face a few feet from the TV set, waving and wiggling with anticipation, hoping that today she’ll see him and say his name. And when, again, she doesn’t, imagine his disappointment.

How crushing to be overlooked again and again. How careless of an adult to set up this disappointment. Who would do that to someone?

We all do. I have. And I’ve had it done to me.

Miss Davenport, my second-grade teacher, had that effect on me. She never looked at me, said my name, or called on me the whole year. I still think of her as my worst teacher ever, especially when the Scholastic book catalogs came. Those colorful pamphlets displayed all kinds of children’s books that we could order, if our parents let us. I lived through the torture of trying to sit still, hoping that this time Miss Davenport would call on me to hand them out, like handing out candy to my friends. But she never did.

When I mentioned Greg’s Romper Room experience to others, I discovered that my friends Jamee and Phyllis were never “seen” by Miss Nancy either. As I dug deeper, it became apparent that Miss Nancy, or other important figures, left many children feeling like they didn’t matter, that they were invisible. Some even cried. Dane says he’s glad he didn’t have a TV until he was well past Romper Room age—he knows he never would have heard his name spoken.

Miss Nancy, or her producers and writers, had to have known that there were millions of kids waiting for her to see them and say their names. How easy it would have been to hold up her mirror, lean into the camera, and say, “I see you. I hope you have a wonderful day full of play.” A more generic yet sincere greeting wouldn’t have left some kids out.

All of this reminds me of the time Dane and I took kayak lessons at a popular place in Madison. Dane was new to the sport, and although I’d been kayaking in Milwaukee for years in my yellow Swifty kayak with my yellow Lab, Riley, I'd had no official training, so we were both excited to take the workshop. Dane had already purchased his boat at Canoecopia, a large paddle sports event in Madison, and I had upgraded from my Swifty to a spiffy orange Dagger. Neither boat was costly, but they worked great. Sadly, it turned out to be a nightmare. There was only one other couple plus the instructor. The instructor took to the other couple with their fancy sea kayaks and all but ignored us. It was a horrible experience, especially for Dane, since it was his first lesson.

Children might believe in magic mirrors, but we know better. Being seen is the real magic to make someone feel good about themselves. Let's make an effort to start seeing and appreciating each other better. You just might bring some long-overdue joy to someone's inner child.

Greg sixty + years later after watching Romper Room