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A few years ago, I was in Mexico, at an orphanage. The kids were generally happy and active, but shy around strangers. They peeked around from behind the nuns. Then, maintaining my serious countenance, I dropped my pencil. The kids thought nothing of it. I picked up the pencil, shaking my head at myself. Then, in a moment, dropped it again. I kept touring the orphanage courtyard, but that pencil became very slippery in my hands--I kept dropping it. The kids caught on to the fun.
They began watching me as I bobbled the pencil and then, inevitably, dropped it. One of the bold kids, maybe about six years old, finally dared to approach me. I glanced over and feigned a little fear, backing away, as if he was a powerful figure. He laughed. I opened my mouth in a soft way--a familiar play signal to mammals, whether human, lion, or bear--to let him know that this was safe. And so he came closer, and swiped at my pant-leg. I made a quiet shriek (I was, after all, trying to also maintain a little credibility with the nuns, who were ok with my playfulness, but might not have endorsed my full descent into madness). The little kid was thrilled; we were playing!
Other kids began to approach. First two more, also testing this bold behavior, swiping at my pant-leg, and seeing how I comically responded with feigned fear. Then more kids drew near. Within ten minutes, these kids had tackled me to the ground and were rolling me over, scattering in mock fear whenever I reared up or made a growling sound.
My Spanish is only serviceable, at best, and they had no English. No one provided instructions to the game we were playing. And no one kept score. But, for about twenty minutes, we were able to join together in play. The play was more fun not because we were comfortable with each other, but specifically because we were strangers to each other. Their play was an exercise in testing their mettle in the face of uncertainty and ambiguity--the appearance of a stranger.
I'm interested in the link between play and maturity and resilience.
For instance, how the game "peek-a-boo" helps infants develop the capacity to raise and lower their anxiety, instead of getting stuck in the "anxious" gear. And how play that involves stumbling and recovering helps a kid not only strengthen locomotive dexterity, but psychological resilience. As brown bear researcher Robert Fagen put it, "the bears that play the most survive the best."
Norwegian researcher Ellen Sandseter is one of my favorite play researchers--she has identified 6 types of "risky play" that are universal across cultures in kids (great heights, rapid speeds, dangerous tools, dangerous elements like fire and water, rough and tumble play, and disappearing/getting lost).
Now, in March, her book Risky Play: An Ethical Challenge is coming out in English translation. If you're a parent or work with kids, or are interested in the benefits of risky play for long-term psychological and relational health, I recommend it.
Here's a quote from it:
"Childhood research indicates that overprotective parents and authorities pose an obstacle to healthy development when they put restrictions on the children’s scope of action. The intention may be to put the children’s safety first, but one unintended outcome appears to be that their mental and physical development suffers. Risky play can crucially make the children aware of their own fallibility, and provides them with opportunities to learn to cope with their own and other people’s tendencies to make mistakes. When dramatic slips and blunders happen at work, they may not be overwhelmed and pacified by it, since they are used to such events from childhood. Initiatives to develop free-range kids should be encouraged from organizations, since, in the long-term, those are the people who are likely to be best prepared for the challenges of adult working life, through a growth mindset and through resilience. It is also through this kind of upbringing that children can learn to see themselves primarily as autonomous and responsible agents, and not as pawns that are moved around by forces beyond their own control."
How would you assess your own capacity to face the unexpected in relatively calm and effective ways? Do you shut down or lash out? Or do you rise to the moment, seeing the opportunity to engage novel problems, to learn something new? Sandseter would suggest that the extent to which you've engaged in play behavior is related to your capacity to meet the moment when the chips are down.
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