Formed in 1969 by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), a nonprofit authorized by Congress in the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967, PBS has been a staple for American families for decades. 

From its earliest days airing Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood and Sesame Street to iconic shows from the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s like Electric Company, Reading Rainbow and Bill Nye the Science Guy, PBS programming has taught children to understand and express their emotions, and helped them build foundational literacy, math and science skills. And since 1999, PBS Kids has brought beloved characters like Daniel Tiger and Arthur into American through shows and digital games. 

Today, PBS, along with NPR and funded by CPB faces an uncertain future after President Donald Trump signed a bill cutting earmarked for the Corporation.

public broadcasting has been under threat. In the 1990s, former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Newt Gingrich, led efforts to . In 1969, Fred Rogers before Congress to protect $20 million in federal funding for the newly formed Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which the Nixon administration proposed cutting in half.

“I’m constantly concerned about what our children are seeing, and for 15 years I have tried, in this country and Canada, to present what I feel is a meaningful expression of care,” Rogers told then-Senator John O. Pastore. Rogers contrasted his approach with the animated “bombardment” and gun violence he saw on other networks.

Underscoring the importance of programs appealing to social emotional learning and mental health, Rogers won Pastore over. “Looks like you just earned the $20 million dollars,” Pastore concluded.

Over the years, PBS has remained a media source among Americans, especially for its children’s programming. As of 2024, more than 130 million people watch PBS via traditional television; nearly 60% of all U.S. television households watch PBS over the course of a year; and PBS Kids 15.5 million monthly users and 345 million monthly streams across PBS KIDS’ digital platforms.

Here’s a visual history of the milestones and iconic moments from the organization that has served generations of learners — as well as a glimpse into efforts to protect it over the years:

1969

Fred Rogers testified before the U.S. Senate Subcommittee on Communications to oppose proposed cuts to federal funding for public broadcasting. 

Sesame Street airs its episode in November 1969.

1970

The photos below capture behind-the-scenes moments from the first season of Sesame Street.

1971

1973

1986

’90s and Early 2000s

2005

2008

2009

Sesame Street turns 40. 

2011

2012

2013

2017

2025

The fight to fund continues. 

With federal funding for PBS and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting now wiped out, one of the few trusted, equity-driven sources of children’s media is seriously wounded. challenge not only the families and educators who rely on PBS Kids, but also the broader media landscape that risks becoming even more fragmented, commercial and inequitable.

The cuts present a critical juncture and potential pivot point. How educators, media makers and policymakers respond will shape not just children’s school readiness, but the civic health, creativity and curiosity of a generation raised in the shadows of algorithmic platforms. 

To meet the moment, policy leaders and educators must move beyond screen time limits and cell phone bans — and focus instead on a long-term vision rooted in shared public interest values, powered by human connection and guided by standards that prioritize children’s well-being from the start.

Babies and Toddlers Are Using Screens — Now What?

Recent studies and scholars have the growing use of screen media among infants and toddlers. The , a study of media use for children from birth through age 8 conducted in 2024, showed that the average infant and toddler under 2 years old was spending more than an hour a day on screens, with children ages 2 to 4 using screens more than two hours daily. In Fall 2023, while I was head of learning and impact at Noggin, an interactive platform for kids ages 2 to 8, my team led a study of 400 families with children under 3 and found screen use now begins in infancy for more than 95% of families. 

For overworked and under-resourced families, screens aren’t optional — they’re essential tools for navigating daily life. Platforms like YouTube, TikTok and AI bots like are commanding children’s attention, fueled by opaque algorithms and ad-based business models that promote addictive, low-quality content. Early media exposure can no longer be considered peripheral. Reduced federal support for PBS Kids and other public media will make that imbalance more acute unless private and philanthropic sources step up.

Reimagining Early Learning Media in the AI Era

At the same time, a major disruption in media production for kids is underway, powered by fast, cheap video production, artificial intelligence and personalized learning technologies. Legacy organizations like Sesame Workshop and PBS face pressure to keep pace with viral success stories like Ms. Rachel and , which have shown how efficient, engaging content can reach millions.

I currently mentor entrepreneurs experimenting with how new technologies like voice recognition and artificial intelligence can support young kids. I’ve seen promising innovations that build on the foundational equity and inclusion principles popularized by public media pioneers like Fred Rogers and Joan Ganz Cooney. The ones that shine most brightly are those that reflect the original spirit of Sesame Street: equity through innovation.

The founders are prioritizing three key principles: connected learning, personalized choice and family co-viewing. Each principle recognizes that brain development is most rapid in the first five years of life, that intention for little ones can be easily scrambled by powerful algorithms and that busy parents — like it or not — have chosen to make digital and screen media a feature of daily life. 

By designing products that stimulate curiosity and discourage overconsumption, media developers can encourage children to practice their “I can do it” moments ; use and guide language learning; and deliver “just in time” content to drive school readiness. Some pioneers are taking a playbook from research on Sesame Street’s power to scaffold learning via to create new opportunities for intergenerational play, a critical opportunity for parent-child and healthy development.

These new models rely on modern ingredients, such as AI, real-time data and mobile-first, multi-platform design. In the wake of federal cuts, companies and organizations building tools to support young children’s early learning and development have a responsibility to leverage research on the value public media has brought to young children for decades and the opportunity that high-quality, tech-enabled learning can deliver. 

The reality is that child development experts and educators who have been studying how kids learn and grow for decades now must confront a digital revolution powered by generative AI, immersive media and increasingly personal learning companions. This wave could either democratize access to world-class learning or cement a two-tiered system: premium, voice-based tools for the wealthy; and game-heavy, ad-driven distractions for everyone else.

To prevent that outcome, we need clear public standards for AI in early childhood, informed by early learning experts and advocates. “No AI bots for tots” should be an early mantra of concern for all human-centered designs for children under age 8. We also need an industry-wide commitment to ethical and responsible development of any AI-driven product designed for children that young and transparency about how AI tools are trained, and who they are designed to serve.

A National Strategy for Children’s Media

To ensure the next generation of early learning media — now introduced into the crib — are “helpmates” and rather than substitutes for the warm, responsive adult relationships that fuel real learning, the nation needs a clear strategy for children’s media. The strategy must safeguard the development of young children, blend the trusted legacy of public media with today’s most promising tech tools, and embrace a broad cross-sector alliance.

That strategy begins with restoring adequate funding for PBS, but public dollars alone won’t be enough. To move from patchwork to progress, I propose six coordinated actions:

First, we need a new funding stream for children’s media modeled on the that created the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Backed by a consortium of philanthropies and individuals, the fund could be sustained by state and community-based financing models administered through public agencies and could galvanize public support for inclusive, research-backed media tools built for children’s developmental needs.

Second, we must establish shared standards for responsible media and AI design in early childhood. Policymakers should work with trusted early learning and development partners to create guardrails that prioritize equity and authentic learning over clicks and virality.

Third, state leaders — who are poised to wield more discretion as federal dollars devolve — should direct resources toward high-quality digital tools and educator training to better use proven public media offerings across Head Start, family child care, and pre-K settings.

Fourth, edtech leaders and investors must design learning tools and business models that prioritize trust, transparency and impact and engage in longitudinal research that tracks how digital tools close equity gaps and support healthy development.

Fifth, educators and families must recognize that they’re not just users, they are catalysts for change who can push for media that’s feedback-rich, culturally affirming and scaffolded for learning; can demand better integration between home and classroom technologies; and can shape the field by voicing what works, what fails and what’s missing.

Finally, pediatricians and health leaders must help reframe the screen time conversation from guilt to guidance. By lifting up high-quality media as a tool for overstretched families, rather than a threat, they can re-center the conversation around children’s real needs: connection, stimulation, and joy.

We’ve lingered too long in the wet cement of funding debates and in a digital marketplace where profit often outweighs purpose. The recent, and sadly predictable, federal cuts to public media should be treated not only as a wake-up call, but as a catalytic moment to act.

This will take public investment, private ingenuity, and political courage. But most of all, it will take national will: the conviction that every child, regardless of income or ZIP code, deserves access to inspiring, developmentally sound, high-quality media content that sparks curiosity, fuels learning and lifts their full civic potential.

Hiding in Plain Sight: Youth Mental Illness, a two-part documentary that premieres Monday on PBS, presents the raw accounts of nearly two dozen young people from diverse backgrounds who open up about their excruciating life experiences. Through varied stories that touch on issues like abuse, addiction and discrimination, the Ewers hope their film will give their audience an understanding that they came to themselves: Everybody, no matter their backgrounds, is affected by America’s mental health crisis in one way or another. 

The film, executive produced by renowned documentarian Ken Burns, was screened at the White House Thursday, with First Lady Jill Biden saying, “We have so much work to do to help our children heal,” and thanking the filmmakers for shining a light on mental health.

“It’s impossible not to be moved by the pain that these young people and their families share,” she said. “But there was so much hope there, too. Because they had all found a way from that darkness towards the light.” 

The documentary can be seen at 9 p.m. ET on Monday and Tuesday and will be available on PBS stations nationally, PBS.com and the . It is part of , called Well Beings, to raise awareness about mental health issues. 

“The goal of the film, we hope, is that people will find relatability in their own lives through these kids’ stories,” Christopher, who co-directed the documentary with his brother, told ����Ӱ��. “I felt connected in ways that I can’t even describe to each and every person’s story. Some of them nearly destroyed me as we were filming their interviews because they hit so close to home.”

The young people featured in it range in age from 11 to 27, including a teenager who lost the fight against addiction at the age of 15, a young Native American woman who felt so isolated that she contemplated suicide and a high school freshman who experienced a series of assaults that led to troubling hallucinations. Among them is Billie, a 15-year-old from a rural farming community who endured intense bullying for being transgender. For 14-year-old Xavier, trauma stemmed from an abusive father. 

“Cigarette smoke is a very triggering thing from my past since I associate that with getting beat by wooden sticks,” said Xavier, who recalled getting beaten “for seemingly no reason.”

begin by the age of 14 and 75% occur by age 24, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. 

“The things my ancestors went through, it’s shown through alcohol abuse, addictions, non-stable families, toxic relationships,” explains Alexis, a 21-year-old who grew up on a Native American reservation. “That’s the burden that Indigenous youth deal with everyday, you’re just born into it.” 

New Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data offer bleak insight into the extent of the problem and how the pandemic has made the crisis even worse for millions of teens, especially LGBTQ youth and girls. In a recent CDC survey, more than a third of high school students reported experiencing poor mental health during the pandemic, nearly 20% reported that they seriously considered dying by suicide and a staggering 9% had actually tried. Even before the pandemic, suicide was a leading cause of death among teens as rates of youth anxiety and depression surged. In 2009, a quarter of high school students reported feeling persistent sadness or hopelessness. By 2019, that rate jumped to nearly 37%. 

Though the project has been years in the making, the film acknowledges how the pandemic has made the crises far more urgent. The Ewers are longtime collaborators with Ken Burns and the trio will continue working together to create a series of films examining the mental health crisis in America.

Over the course of four hours, this first film takes viewers on a journey that for many began with traumatic experiences that led to debilitating mental health struggles, but ended with a message of hope. Despite roadblocks including homelessness, arrests, addictions, eating disorders and suicide attempts, many of the young subjects were able to go on and live happy lives thanks to mental health care and the coping skills they developed.

Yet recovery is a lifelong process. It’s a lesson that Erik learned firsthand over the course of filming the documentary, he said. Throughout his entire life, he struggled to understand his emotional issues. Although his parents took him to a psychiatrist while he was in elementary school, it wasn’t until he started filming the documentary that he began to truly address his challenges. The youth in his film, he said, “gave me an education about myself.”

“If the film has the power to do that for me, I can only hope that it will have that power for other people as well,” he said. 

Christopher said the youth interviews hit home for his family, too, as his daughter struggled with mental health challenges of her own. Listening to each of the stories, he said, “gave us the courage and the commitment to see through the proper care for our daughter.” 

As the filmmakers weave the young peoples’ individual stories into a cohesive narrative, the result can only be described as a gut punch. With the goal of presenting an unvarnished look into the pervasiveness of youth mental health crises, the documentary is difficult to watch at times. But sugarcoating the issue would be a disservice to those who are struggling, Erik said. 

“Imagine a kid out there who is literally watching it and we watered it down, which of course, we had not,” he said. “But if they did, they’d be saying ‘Wow, I’m a lot worse than I thought,’ or say ‘This is bullshit.’”

The stigma still associated with mental health issues prevents many young people from sharing their experiences, yet the Ewers brothers said their subjects were motivated to open up on film — and wound up feeling better as a result. They were tired of keeping their suffering bottled up inside and hoped that greater awareness could save lives. 

Alexis, who grew up on the reservation, said that nearly all Indigenous youth are the victims of trauma and abuse to some degree. Yet also embedded in her DNA, she said, is resilience. 

“I know for a fact that my ancestors and my elders, they’re rooting for me and they want me to do good,” she said. “I’ll share my story over and over again. I’ll go through those emotions like a million times if it helps one person.”

Amid heightened national fear over mass school shootings, a teacher in pink earmuffs unloads a pistol’s clip into the chest of a human-shaped target. The scene in Bulletproof, Chandler’s latest documentary, highlights the lengths some teachers have gone to keep kids safe.

In a troubling juxtaposition, the film contrasts long-established traditions like homecoming parades and classroom lectures against newer realities inside American schools: lockdown drills, metal detectors and campus gun safes stocked with AR-15s.

Chandler, the film’s director/producer and a Brooklyn College professor, said the documentary started as a hard look at the booming school security industry, but morphed into an exploration of routines that often feel surreal.

“I started thinking more about this idea of rituals and how all of these rehearsals and preparations [for a mass shooting] play out across the country, seeing things almost like choreography,” he told ����Ӱ��. The film doesn’t aim to offer a complete picture of the debate around school security, he said, but instead offers viewers “fragments of daily life, of what has long been — and what is fast becoming — normal around the country.” 

Bulletproof, which makes its broadcast debut at 10 p.m. ET Monday on PBS, takes viewers to campuses across the country to highlight the fear that gun violence has instilled in America’s school communities while exploring the monetization of solutions that security companies promise will prevent more carnage. The 84-minute film, which will broadcast as part of the network’s documentary series will also be available to stream on the .

Each year, school leaders spend billions of dollars on security to bulletproof campuses. For the entrepreneurs who manufacture bulletproof backpacks and whiteboards, the race to stop the next school shooter has become big business. Whether that spending has helped, however, remains unclear. 

The documentary’s broadcast premiere falls on Valentine’s Day, the same date as the 2018 mass school shooting in Parkland, Florida, which left 17 dead and prompted a national debate over gun control and student safety. The film, which was co-produced by Danielle Varga, isn’t a work of blatant advocacy and avoids feeding viewers a perspective on the merits of the high-tech surveillance cameras, active-shooter drills and campus police officers that have proliferated in schools nationwide since Parkland. Yet the film does offer a point of view — one that Chandler described as “dark absurdism.” 

“The hope is that the contrast and the juxtaposition will do their parts to highlight what I think is sad or problematic or a little bit absurd,” he said. “But in ways that are subtle enough that it remains watchable and an invitation to engage.” 

Mass school shootings are statistically rare and campuses have grown safer in recent years, yet a byproduct of high-profile attacks like the one in Parkland is a security industry that banks on an ever-present threat inside schools. Bulletproof features a Las Vegas trade show where salesmen hawk armored whiteboards, while a California-based entrepreneur designs bulletproof hoodies from a Silicon Valley bedroom. In one Texas school, leaders deploy a badge monitoring system that tracks students’ every move. A school leader explains how threats, including violent campus graffitti, necessitate the surveillance response. 

“Some people will say ‘that’s just some kid playing,’” the district security official says. “The problem is we can’t take that risk anymore.”

Many of the security strategies that have grown more prevalent in recent years remain contentious. Active shooter drills have become routine in schools nationwide, for example, but some critics argue they are ineffective and could have a negative effect on children who must weigh their own mortality. Bulletproof explores this tension on several occasions. In one scene, educators barricade a classroom door with chairs and desks during an active-shooter simulation. But one high school student explains how the drills could be counterproductive. 

“I feel as if having to do constant lockdown drills is almost as traumatizing as having an actual situation like that,” the student explains.

The film pivoted to a similar debate about whether should carry guns. The proposal was ultimately rejected. During a public meeting, the district police chief explains that without guns, unarmed officers lack the tools necessary to catch “bad guys.” 

But Harold Jordan, the nationwide education equity coordinator at the ACLU of Pennsylvania, says in the film that officials should focus on the harms that guns present to students inside the schools. Arming officers changes the school environment, he argues, and “sends a very strong and a negative message to students that somehow firearms are needed in terms of dealing with the kinds of everyday things that go on in schools.” 

In an interview with ����Ӱ��, Jordan called the documentary an “anthropological snapshot” that offers viewers an introduction to the “safe schools industrial complex” and the salesmen who “take advantage of peoples’ fears to make a buck.” 

Yet he said that he wished that Chandler had offered a deeper look at the efficacy of the school security solutions on display and offered a greater focus on the opinions of students who must attend schools alongside them. But ultimately, he hopes the film creates greater skepticism of companies that he sees as seeking to cash in on fears of mass violence. 

“The film is going to perhaps spark a conversation about these things,” he said, “but I think that people viewing the film should really take it further and ask deeper questions — and to ask young people about their perceptions of safety and violence.” 

Chandler said that was his precise goal. Rather than forcing a clear agenda, he hopes the film becomes a conversation starter for people who may not typically engage in debates about campus security and strategies to prevent school shootings. 

“A film that takes a direct position is going to be less successful in catalyzing dialogue because it’s immediately going to alienate a certain number of people and it’s going to unite another population of people,” Chandler said. “And then we’re sort of exactly where we were.”