Dartmouth College might want to consider rebates. With tuition and fees at more than $36,000 a year, it's probably not be too much to expect that someone who leaves with a $150,000 sheepskin should have picked up some common sense to go along with it.

There are people at Dartmouth who object to Fred Rogers' getting an honorary degree at today's commencement.

In some small, gnarled spirits, the man who helped shape tens of millions of youngsters into better, happier people, is considered too lowly and commonplace an honoree and commencement speaker for the lofty Ivy institution. They make fun of him.

Having raised a house full of kids with Mr. Rogers' kind assistance I know I violate his likely counsel to suppress an urge to call these critics a collection of spoiled, self-indulgent dopes. A small satisfaction is that these progenyof privilege will soon be discovering the charms of a real world that is not much impressed by their ability to feast so well off the silver platter.

The idea that Fred Rogers would offend a few smug, barely post-teen spongers is a sad statement -- on them, not on the man who personified grace and calm and being polite in a world that so needs grace and calm and a soothing voice.

In the Dartmouth school newspaper and in other venues, Mr. Rogers is ridiculed for his manner, for his dress and his soft respect for children. His invitation to Hanover, N.H., did not create a tidal wave of offense, but there is enough grumbling to make you squint. What's wrong with these people?

Fred Rogers, 74, was always there for uncountable families who were trying to raise children during stressful times. He was an oasis of calm in a world beset with war, political turmoil, social conflicts and economic chaos. While the world shrieked, he toned it down. His gentle message remains as relevant today as it was before his retirement last year.

A writer for the college paper finds Mr. Rogers' gentle demeanor "eerie," "creepy" and somehow suggestive of a dark, perverted spirit. Amazing. Of course he should be harsh, strident, confrontational. He is dismissed as preachy and simplistic -- for talking about peace and happiness to little children. Astonishing. Better that he would be rude, abusive, foul. A national parent, he is called paternalistic. A man of faith, he is termed unexciting, boring, pious, low-key. Probably we would be wiser, in their view, to put our children in front of talk radio or the screamers of eye-gouging television.

Dartmouth's administrators do not feel this way, and they remain proud of the decision to honor him, who honored so many of us. Yet others speak of an obligation that the system and world has to honor them with a speaker worthy of the audience. They demand a world statesman, a corporate giant, a celebrated author or important member of government. Please.

They have, instead, something far better that that. They have a nice man who for a half-century offered a soft voice when so many others preferred to shout. He worked against violence by teaching the natural nature of peace. He established programs everywhere to soothe and calm and find the magic of quiet amid the world's din. Not good enough for Dartmouth? What a ridiculous thought. (It could be noted that Mr. Rogers already holds honorary degrees from more than 30 colleges and universities, including Yale and UConn.)

I do not remember my own commencement speaker, who, I believe, had something to do with the then-recent "Missouri Compromise." I have no idea what was said in that distant ceremony. I have been to graduations since and recall little of the towering pronouncements that were surely delivered from podiums near and far.

But I know this much: There is a message in a lifetime of relevant service and social contribution that overwhelms the most powerful speech or most forceful presentation.

Fred Rogers' work, if "work" is the word for such a kind gift, reminded us of the beautiful nature of those to whom he delivered it.

When my own boys were tiny and jumping all around and wired and sizzling, they could be soothed to calm by Mr. Rogers' presence, his cheer and capacity to speak directly to them. We saw it happen a hundred times. There was no artifice or trickery to it; a child would see through that. Instead they saw a good man, and they loved him for that.

Judging by the unkind views expressed by some at Dartmouth it didn't always stick. But there is a much larger world content to having played in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.

To contact Denis Horgan, please call 860-241-6610 or send an e-mail to horgan@courant.com