I am not Peter Pan. I am a really grown up. I write this because I've been reflecting on childhood, play, and memory since visiting Walt Disney World this year.
I could say much about Disney. Eventually, I probably will. But for now I just want to comment on the Walt Disney World experience. Just as summer was yielding to autumn, my family embarked on the pilgrimage to Orlando--a trip that I, more than any of my children, had eagerly anticipated for years.
You see, I grew up in Florida and this is where memory comes in. Growing up in Florida meant a close proximity to this most magical of places. Though childhood trips to Walt Disney World were rare, once I became a young adult with a car and a credit card, I had taken full advantage of that proximity. Not so surprisingly, those many trips had left an indelible mark on me and now, in my thirties, the nostalgia is thick.
Now this year's family trip is over, we have our memories and, of course, the many digital pictures and videos. My two boys hugging Mickey Mouse (precious). The classic family shot on Main Street, U.S.A., with Cinderella's castle in the background (gorgeous). We talk about how creepy the Haunted Mansion was and how much fun we had riding the Astro Orbiter. We sing "It's A Small World" in a multi-generational chorus.
Nonetheless, my first trip to Walt Disney World as a parent was an awakening. You could say that the nostalgic fog has dissipated and my perspective is a little clearer now. Although we have some great memories, I have come to the conclusion that--in the spirit of Frozen's Elsa--it is time for some letting go. It is time for me to let go and stop idealizing Disney. It is time to stop elevating it above other childhood experiences.
Like any week with three small children, our week at Walt Disney World was filled with peaks of euphoria and valleys of despair. In hindsight, given the promises of Disney and the expense of the trip, there should have been relatively more euphoria. My wife said it well; if we had spent 10 hours for three days straight devoting all of our energy and attention to our children and to entertaining them, we would have had many wonderful moments. Though we'd have been exhausted, we would have had a great time because we would have satisfied their hunger for connection. As any parent knows, on a daily basis, this is a difficult hunger to satisfy when you have so many things competing for your attention. The place where the connection occurs doesn't matter to kids. We could be in the backyard, in a parking lot, or on the moon. The point is the kids don't care about Disney unless we teach them to.
This matters because Disney actively teaches some things we may not want our children to learn. Specifically, the park experience puts visitors face-to-face with conspicuous materialistic values. Many psychological studies have shown that individuals who are relatively more oriented toward materialistic values (i.e., money, attractiveness, status, fame) are less generous, less happy, and less well-adjusted than individuals who are relatively less oriented toward these values. In other words, chasing these things is not a path to happiness. This is deeply ironic for a place that is advertised to be the "happiest place on Earth."
Take the following three examples of how, in a very real way, Disney fosters materialistic values that teach the pursuit of fame, money, status, and attractiveness.
Fame - The characters--Mickey, Goofy, Donald, Aurora, Ariel, Elsa--are the celebrities of Disney World and their presence and visitors' opportunities to interact with them form a fundamental part of the experience. In nearly every gift shop in the Magic Kingdom (I checked) you can buy an official autograph book and then spend much of your time at the park waiting to meet characters so that your child (or you) can collect autographs and pictures. This celebrity chase is a signature part of many peoples' Disney experience and I'm concerned about what this teaches kids. How we spend our time reveals our lived values and what does it mean to stand in line for hours to greet someone who is dressed up as a movie character? It is only anecdotal, but the children I saw didn't seem that impressed with these interactions. Indeed, many of them needed to be consoled because they were so tired of waiting in line or they were afraid of the character they were meeting.
Money and Status - It should be obvious that not everyone can go to Disney World. You need to have a ticket and tickets are quite expensive. In fact, the Magic Kingdom in Florida commands the highest ticket price of any U.S. theme park. Many families save carefully for years to be able to afford the trip. In my own case, the whole experience was a very generous gift from my parents, who live in Florida--a gift for which my family and I are still very grateful. Generous is the only way to describe it because the ticket price is just the beginning. Once you factor in lodging, meals, transportation, photos, and souvenirs, it is easy to see how a trip to Disney requires a budget comparable to many far more luxurious and exotic vacations.
Once you have admission taken care of, you are invited to buy added perks and, as we know, perks connote status. In the realm of lodging, the most privileged can afford to stay at the Grand Floridian, the Polynesian, or the Contemporary. Those hotels are all on the monorail line to the Magic Kingdom. Guests who stay on-site can pay an additional $315 per hour ($340/hour for guests not staying on-site) to hire a VIP tour guide who will get you into the attractions of your choice with no waiting at all. Another less expensive perk is a Photo Pass package that allows visitors to approach photographers stationed throughout the park for photo ops that can be later retrieved and viewed.
In short, money and conspicuous consumption are all over Walt Disney World. While some children are probably too young to understand this completely, we shouldn't delude ourselves into thinking they don't get it at all. How we spend our money conveys our values. What do we show our children when we work longer hours, sacrificing time with them, in order to save for this sort of vacation? Are we able to hide our resentment when they don't like it as much as they "should" given that cost?
Attractiveness - With few exceptions, the good guys and girls of Disney fit classic and stereotypical notions of physical attractiveness and the bad guys and girls do not. Disney princesses are young, thin, and disproportionately blonde. Disney princes are square and chiseled (and rich, of course). The problem is more acute for girls because Disney so aggressively promotes those princesses and their costumes to girls. Indeed, more than a few little girls spend their time in the park fully adorned in polyester and sequined princess attire complete with a tiara on their tiny heads. Although it is tempting to see this as mere child's play, we should not ignore what it teaches with regard to ideals of beauty and body acceptance. When we look at the crises of body dissatisfaction and disordered eating among adolescents and young adults today, we have to wonder where it all originates. Are there other ways that we might encourage our little girls to pretend? Other ways that don't involve fantasizing about being beautiful and being admired for that beauty?
All of this leaves me concerned. As an adult and a parent who is responsible (gulp) for my childrens' welfare, I want to be conscious of what I am teaching my children and, specifically, what my own choices and behavior endorse for them. My adult eyes see the fantasy of Walt Disney World as just that--a fantasy. But while fantasy can often be constructive and good, the kind of fantasy that we see at Disney is not altogether good. In some ways, it is a subversive and dangerous fantasy because it represents something that is patently false. It is an endorsement of values that actually undermine well-being.
Yes, children (and adults) have fun at Disney World. We also have fun in many places that do not require a ticket and that do not so brazenly promote fame, consumption, and beauty. And, along with the fun, there is plenty of misery at Walt Disney World, too. Look at the wait times. Feel the heat and humidity. Listen to parents telling their kids they can't have a $15 balloon. Look at the kids hearing their parents tell them they can't have the $15 balloon. See the scared five-year-old who is too frightened for a trip through the Haunted Mansion. Talk to the three-year old who tells his Daddy, "I am not brave," after riding the Barnstormer.
So, let me return to Peter Pan. Like him, I can appreciate child's play, imagination, pretend, and the magic in all of that. Actually, I see these things as critical ingredients in a healthy, happy, and full childhood. I don't for a moment think childhood fantasy must be given up or let go. But I will let go of a specific fantasy. One that suggests that joy can be sanctioned by a corporate entity and curated by indebted, exhausted, and anxious parents.