From 1968 to 2001, tens of millions of Americans, most of them children, watched “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” on television. He enthralled the preschool set, puzzled many adults—was this guy for real?—and was so one-of-kind that comedians like Eddie Murphy parodied him.
Behind his famous pair of sneakers and cardigan sweater, Fred Rogers (1928–2003) was a man of many talents and gifts. He was a musician and songwriter, composing most of the songs used on his show. Though he never headed up a church, he was an ordained Presbyterian minister and a lifelong reader of the Bible. He studied child psychology and was a pioneer in children’s television.
He was all these things, but perhaps most importantly, as King tells us, Rogers was a teacher. Three key lessons he offered—both on the set and off—were the importance of clear communication, kindness, and gratitude.
Good Communication Means Connection
King notes that Rogers practiced an alternative to the high-tech wizardry of the 21st century. “As society grapples with the impact of instant, ubiquitous communication, and researchers debate its impact on education and cognitive function, Fred Rogers stands out clearly as someone who, though he embraced and used new technology in his creative work, always did so in a careful, thoughtful, slow-paced fashion.”As an added measure to ensure that the scripts addressed the real concerns and needs of children, Rogers met nearly every week for 22 years with long-time mentor and well-known child psychologist Margaret MacFarland. The two discussed scripts, with McFarland delighted at the ways Rogers transformed her ideas and examples into life-affirming messages for his audience.
“There is no act in Mister Rogers,” McFarland once said. “How he behaves toward children on television is the same as how he behaves toward children off camera.”
The Three Ways to Success
In her Introduction to a Fred Rogers’ essay, “Something Worth Giving,” Marge Petruska tells of an incident she witnessed at a brunch. A five-year-old girl recently adopted from Russia who spoke no English was at one point sitting all alone. Rogers left the adults, lowered himself to his knees so they could be face to face, and chatted her up in English while she replied in Russian. Soon the two of them rose, went to the piano, and began playing together—“another act of communication.”During his elementary school years, Rogers was bullied for being overweight and introverted. Though he blossomed in high school, becoming popular—he was president of the student council in his senior year—and slimming down, he never forgot the wall of separation he’d felt from his peers in elementary school. Consequently, his tender-hearted regard for children sprang in part from Rogers’s own childhood trauma, and King recounts the many times when Rogers, walking down a sidewalk or eating in a restaurant, would immediately turn all his attention on a child who had approached him.
“A limousine had been hired to take them to the executive’s home. When they got there, the limo driver asked Fred when he should pick them up after dinner. Instead, Fred invited him in, to the bewilderment of the hostess. After dinner, he sat up front in the limo with the driver, a man named Billy, to get to know him.
The Invisible Gift
In his later years, speaking at graduations or other events, Rogers often gave what he called his invisible gift to his listeners. Here’s part of what he had to say in his 2001 commencement address to the graduates and their families at Marquette University:“I‘d like to give you all an invisible gift; a gift of silence to think about those who nourish you at the deepest part of your being—anyone who has ever loved you and wanted what was best for you in life. Some of those people may be right here today. Some may be far away, some may even be in heaven; but if they’ve encouraged you to come closer to what you know to be essential about life, I’d like you to have a silent minute to think of them.”
Clear communication with others, kindness, and gratitude. This old world needs all three—and not just now, but always.
And on behalf of all those you helped to come closer to the “essentials about life,” thank you, Mister Rogers.