Storytime: TikTok and the 'Book of Wonderful Noises'

It was Dr. Seuss week, and our elementary school invited volunteer readers into the classrooms to read their favorite Dr. Seuss books.

I took the invitation seriously and wanted to practice before the day, so the kids would be entertained and know I love to read. The other volunteers would bring their own Dr. Seuss book choices, so I looked for one that isn’t well-read, finally settling on "Dr. Seuss’s Book of Wonderful Noises."

Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?

This little rhyming book is about a top-hatted man named Mr. Brown who could produce all manner of wonderful noises. Not just mooing and cock-a-doodle-dooing, but everyday sounds like knocks and clocks, slurps and burps. The book is full of noises that Mr. Brown can make and, now, I had to make them too.

Moo and cock-a-doodle-doo.

I came in with high energy that morning, well-rehearsed but still nervous. With a list of classes and times, Mr. Brown and I went from kindergarten to the second grade. In each classroom, the students were seated in a common area on the floor, surrounding me with sweet innocence and expectation.

The pressure was on.

There is a place in "Mr. Brown Can Moo" where Dr. Seuss gives the reader a chance to participate. The students enthusiastically followed along, mimicking the noises I made, even down to the tone of voice. Grum, grum from chewing gum, the choo of a train, the dibble dop of rain — the kids were all up in it.

Until we got to this sound.

It is a noise I grew up with, one used in many nursery rhymes and even rock songs. It is a sound you hear in a silent house, a sound that marks the passage of time.

Mr. Brown can "go like a clock, he can tick, he can tock."

When I got to the tick-tock part of the book and made the sound of a ticking clock, confusion crossed the faces of the little people in front of me. The looks I got gave me cause for a pause.

(Now I am beginning to sound like Dr. Seuss.)

One little girl quickly raised her hand.

“I get it!” she said. “My mom does TikTok!”

“Mine does too,” said another, putting her little hands in the air in some kind of jazzy dance.

“My dad watches TikTok at the dinner table,” came a reluctant confession.

“My mom watches it all the time!” a small boy claimed, his voice full of unspoken words.

Every class, every room I read, the tick-tock part of Dr Seuss' book was quickly interpreted as TikTok, and that generated several revealing comments.

“My dad watches TikTok at my ballgame more than he watches me.”

I am not a TikTok-er, yet somehow I have managed to survive. I still have clocks on my wall, one by the bed, and wear a watch on my left arm. I’m busy — I wake each day with my own challenges and don’t need strangers stealing away my time.

That day in the classroom, Dr. Seuss and Mr. Brown made me realize that the sound of a clock is a dying sound. Soon, time will be measured by posts and trends and videos that make you forget what’s in front of you.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I get it. Priorities shift, children grow, and advances keep us advancing. Still, I am saddened to think that, one day, children will not know the sound of time passing. Instead, time will be marked by storage left, screen time used, and the minutes it takes to recharge.

Families will forget dinner time, and story time, and all the time in between, busily burying themselves in a stranger’s life instead of their own. It feels like the passing of time is shifting, no longer measured as tick-tock, tick-tock.

More like TikTok, TikTok.

You can reach Lorry at lorrysstorys@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Columbia Daily Tribune: Storytime: TikTok and the 'Book of Wonderful Noises'