My family’s most recent Christmas tradition involves creating a checklist of things to be accomplished over the seventy-two hours that all eight family members end up in the same house. It is consistently far too ambitious for the time allotted, and we always end up wasting far too much time dancing to “Go Girlfriend” from the Radio Disney Christmas CD. This year the movie on the list was the new Matilda musical on Netflix.

As I lay curled up on my parents’ floor watching British schoolchildren dance, I was particularly struck by the song “When I Grow Up.” If you are unfamiliar with the story of Matilda, the children all attend a school where they are mistreated by the tyrannical reign of Ms. Trunchbull. In this song, they envision the autonomy they might find when they grow up and escape this school. They look forward to the day when they will be “brave enough to fight the creatures that you need to fight beneath the bed.”

Something I think about constantly as a teacher is the environment that my students may or may not be trapped in. Many children show up to school every day, dragging the 172-pound duffle bag weight of their home life behind them wherever they go. This takes an obvious toll on them, physically, academically, and emotionally. I can create all the structure and joy that a large Dunkin’ coffee prepares me for each day, and they will still be left behind, scuffing the floor with their oversized duffle bags. 

Matilda is part of the genre of children’s entertainment that dramatically satirizes children’s lack of agency in the world. She joins the ranks of Klaus Baudelaire, Wendy Darling, and Harry Potter as they chafe against the confines of their guardians. Many define this oppression of children under the term “adultism.” It asks the question: why must beautiful and capable children be constrained by the law of incompetent guardians?

And she is a child of extraordinary capability. She has read all the classics before attending school, she basically raised herself, and of course she has telekinetic powers. Many years ago, I was at a Family Video with a friend attempting to choose a movie. As I tried to debate the pros and cons of checking out Pride and Prejudice, yet again, I discovered that she wasn’t listening to a word that I said. Instead, her eyes were riveted to the 90s Matilda film on the wall. It was the scene where Matilda dances with her furniture along to “Little Bitty Pretty One.” (An iconic moment in film history.)

It wasn’t until years later that I successfully connected her obsession with movies like Matilda and Home Alone to the lack of agency she felt at her own house. These were stories where children took hold of their own fates and changed their world, however small. And no matter how ridiculous it looks, when Ms. Trunchbull is ousted from her position of power and thrown over the garden wall, you can’t help cheering along with the kids. 

Near the end of the musical film, Matilda is interrupted in her triumphant celebration with her classmates. Although she has just single handedly reclaimed the school for the children, her deadbeat parents have arrived to take her away in a moving van. The most emotional moment in the movie for me, was when Matilda’s friend asks if she has to move away, and Matilda says, “It’s not up to me.”

I’m convinced the juxtaposition in this moment is designed to make your heart implode on itself. Matilda is simultaneously powerful and powerless. In moments, she goes from conquering hero to helpless child.

These sorts of stories draw us in, no matter how cheesy. They speak to the part of our hearts that was endlessly frustrated by the unsatisfactory rules and role models of our childhood. And we want to see a child who is given the autonomy to fight the monsters under their own bed when the adults around them fail to do so.

the post calvin