What do you do with the mad that you feel
When you feel so mad you could bite?
When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong…
And nothing you do seems very right?
What do you do? Do you punch a bag?
Do you pound some clay or some dough?
Do you round up friends for a game of tag?
Or see how fast you go?

It’s great to be able to stop
When you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong,
And be able to do something else instead
And think this song:
I can stop when I want to
Can stop when I wish

I can stop, stop, stop any time.
And what a good feeling to feel like this
And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there’s something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.

What Do You Do With the Mad That You Feel? (Song)
Written by Fred Rogers | © 1968 Fred M. Rogers

For a brief time in my very young years, I thought Mr. Rogers was my dad. And whether it was the resemblance he struck in my fading memory of what my father looked like, or the desperate need for a loving man in my life, I wanted him, needed him to be my dad. Desperately.

Of course, I later discovered that he wasn’t my dad–silly kid–he was just a man on TV. But even so, that “just a man on TV’s” kindness served, I now believe, as an important surrogate for instilling the importance of kindness and compassion during my most-impressionable years.

To this day, I’ve never been mad about my parents’ divorce–sad and confused, especially early on, but never mad. And I don’t know why. Maybe I should have been mad. Maybe I learned to “stop it.” Maybe I learned it from Mr. Rogers. In the 70’s there was not a lot to watch on television, so it is likely I heard Mr. Rogers sing the “What Do You Do?” song many times, and it helped the boy become this man.

This man. This forty-seven-year-old man who now finds himself more drawn to Mr. Rogers than the four-year-old boy who could not have needed him more. Of course, the boy then could not have known the impact, could not have guessed he would rediscover his unsung hero’s role in shaping “this man” forty-some years into his future.

In truth, I had not really thought about Fred Rogers in decades. As I got older, Mr. Rogers gave way to more “manly” models, Superman taking top bill, especially as this man entered his career as a teacher. See, he thought, he actually believed (still does, I guess) he had to be a super human, a super hero for his kids, and Superman’s “S” worked well with Syrie, so he found his model. (A look into my closet–nearly 20 Superman shirts, and a peak into my classroom–Superman stuff all over, confirms it). So for years, I donned my Super Syrie cape, adopting a persona for kids. But I have recently hung up my cape and turned my prized tees into yard-work shirts. I now a wear a sweater.

Mr. Rogers wore a sweater; that was his cape, and I remembered that as I rediscovered the marvel of the man on a flight home from Tennessee.

I watched–no, I absorbed, Won’t You Be My Neighbor on the seatback in front of me on a long flight home from my niece’s wedding back in October. And as I sat there with smiles–and tears I refused to hide–on the packed 757, I rediscovered my hero, and in doing so, I discovered myself, this man.

This man.

This man puts on a sweater every day as he sings a song to and with his sophomores every period.

This man then sits in a circle with them every period, every day for a brief period of time as they share their stories during Smiles and Frowns.

This man then shares a new Sappy Sy Rhyme as they leave him for the day, as he hopes against hope they feel connected, they feel their stories matter, they feel they matter.

For how they feel means everything. They are human. And there is nothing more human about us than our feelings. So, he considers, and honors their feelings. And in a time when we perhaps need human connection more than ever, he will always listen; he will always consider and honor their feelings so they may someday become men and women who are better connected to themselves and others. Humans need connection.

“And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there’s something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.”

This man knows he is not Fred Rogers. He knows he will never be Fred Rogers. But this now man, who was once the boy, knows he owes a deep debt to the man who showed him something deep inside that would someday help him become a man. This man. And this man has never felt more a man than when he is trying to be Mr. Rogers. Thank you Mr. Rogers. I am sorry that it took me so long to remember. And though you were just the guy on TV and not my dad, I’d like to think I might just make you proud when I sit down with my kids every day to help them when their…

“…whole wide world seems oh, so wrong…

And they just need someone to listen.

Someone to help them make it right.