Dav Pilkey’s Captain Underpants books: Why kids love them, and parents should make peace with them.
Why Parents (and Teachers) Should Embrace Captain Underpants
Snapshots of life at home.
Sept. 7 2012 11:24 PM

One Nation, Underpants

The triumphant return of Captain Underpants, hero to hyper, school-hating 8-year-olds.


A litmus test: How hilarious do you find the name Professor Tippy Tinkletrousers, formerly known as Professor Pippy Pee-Pee Poopypants? Not very? Then you are likely an adult person, perhaps of the female variety. If you do not find jokes about gas, poop, tinkle, wedgies, and barf endlessly hilarious—if you are not, in body or spirit, an 8-year-old boy—Dav Pilkey’s phenomenally successful Captain Underpants series is not for you. And that is precisely the point.

Like any great revolutionary, Pilkey has raised the ire of many a disapproving adult over the years. The Pilkey empire—the Captain Underpants, Ook and Gluk, and Super Diaper Baby series, among others—has been a popular target for censors since The Adventures of Captain Underpants was released in 1997. Captain has been challenged by school boards, libraries, and parents for its crassness, poor spelling and grammar (within every book is a comic “written by” the fourth-grade protagonists, who are not, shockingly, master grammarians), and anti-authority themes. It’s hard to imagine a response more in keeping with the books’ crudeness and disrespect for teachers. And that’s why Captain Underpants is so perfect for young readers. In order to build the habits of life-long readers, the slyly intelligent Captain Underpants books are explicitly not for uptight grown-ups, i.e. all grown-ups.

Instead, Pilkey writes for an audience often frowned upon by adult authority figures: Hyper boys bored by school, reluctant readers not drawn to the sometimes medicinal titles on school reading lists. (It’s unfortunate that Pilkey’s approach, and appeal, is so rigidly boy-focused. Girls have no place in the Captain’s world.) These readers are embodied by George and Harold, Pilkey’s heroes, who make mischief while dodging the sadistic teachers of Jerome Horwitz Elementary. Their greatest adversary is Principal Krupp, whose "very soul danced at the thought of crushing a child's spirit and dashing his or her hopes and dreams against the jagged rocks of never-ending despair." After the punishment for a particularly excellent pep-rally prank proves too much for the boys to endure, they hypnotize Principal Krupp into assuming the identity of one Captain Underpants, who "fights for Truth, Justice, and all that is Pre-Shrunk and Cottony!” Over the course of nine books, the boys and the Captain have battled talking toilets, aliens disguised as nasty lunch-ladies, supersonic wedgies, evil robots, Professor Tinkletrousers, and the daily threat of lifelong detention.


The children's literature world is brimming with poignant, metaphor-heavy, gracefully rendered portraits of childhood that English teachers just cherish. Captain Underpants is not one of them. Indeed, in the world of Harold and George, the books’ heroes, and that of many of the series’ readers, English teachers are the enemy. With the release of the first Captain Underpants book in six years, Captain Underpants and the Terrifying Return of Tippy Tinkletrousers, it’s worth considering what makes Pilkey’s series so subversive and revolutionary. Young readers recognize a kindred spirit in Pilkey—an adult whose sympathies, anarchic energy, and sense of rebellion stand with misunderstood troublemakers everywhere.

Every book begins with a description of George and Harold from the perspective of their loving and indulgent creator, an author fiercely protective of his boys' spirits. As Pilkey writes in Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets:

Depending on who you asked, you'd probably hear a lot of different things about George and Harold. Their teacher, Ms. Ribble, might say that George and Harold were disruptive and behaviorally challenged. Their gym teacher, Mr. Meaner, might add that they were in need of a serious attitude adjustment. Their principal, Mr. Krupp, would probably have a few more choice words to include, like sneaky, and criminally mischievous, and "I'll get those boys if it's the last thing I …" Well, you get the idea. But if you asked their parents, they'd probably tell you that George and Harold were smart and sweet, and very good-hearted … even if they were a bit silly at times. I'd have to agree with their parents.

The teachers are the real villains here: narrow-minded, cruel idiots who taunt George and Harold, throw parties upon their suspensions, and generally delight in punishing children. They are Roald Dahl's evil adults, but even more broadly-drawn; like Dahl, Pilkey does not sugarcoat the unfairness of childhood or the petty tyrannies of adults on power trips. At Jerome Horwitz Elementary, drawn from Pilkey's own childhood experience, teachers punish creativity and praise blind obedience. They force the students to obey soul-crushing rules, oppose independent thought, and feed them poisonous cafeteria food and aggressively mind-numbing lessons.

This gross caricature of the villainous teacher may not be appreciated by the underpaid, overworked educators who toil thanklessly to educate the nation's children–I don't know any teachers who actually relish the pain of children the way Pilkey's do (except the gym teachers of my youth). But with all due respect to the dedicated teachers (and none to the gym teacher), so what? Any teacher/student power dynamic is tipped in the adult's favor, and children need to feel like someone understands the fundamental unfairness of their world. Pilkey may be overly hard on teachers, but there can sometimes be nothing harder than a terrible teacher for a struggling kid.