Play Stories

Lydia Wright-Jackson
biology lab supervisor

The children of striving graduate students of Orchard Park made the pine tree cluster our fortress. For six years, my girlfriends and I raced boys up the trees to define our leadership and used our "girly throws" to hurl pine cones at them to secure our positions. It didn't matter the race, creed, or heights of our friends in the tree; on a branch everyone was the same. We read books, teased our crushes, and discovered broken bones in those trees. I can still smell the sap oozing from the bark. Today I participate in the nonprofit organization Big Brothers Big Sisters in which my 10-year-old (yet 5`7") "little Sis" scoffs at me when I take her to the park! "What are I am supposed to do here!" she yells. "Play! Climb the slide, run across the bridge, throw the ball, get dizzy on the tire swing!" I cry. "I think I just want to get Chick-fil-a and play my PSP," she replies.

As my heart weakens I add two more goals to my list: 1. Teach my children to play outside; 2. Make a dent in the education system of America.

Poor girl, she doesn't even know how to climb a tree . . .

Candido Brown
undergraduate
Johns Hopkins University

As a sociology major at the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore City, I am so glad someone finally took the time to investigate the absence of children's play time. As a child, I remember building forts out of snow, tents out of sheets, and castles out of old boxes. Now, I rarely see children doing the same thing. Last semester, I was hired as an assistant director of an afterschool program here in Baltimore City and was amazed at what my children did for fun on the playground. They sat, slid down the sliding board, sat some more, and then complained that they wanted to go back to the building. In addition, while they sat, they often peered into the faces of the adults, paying more attention to what the adults were saying than to what their peers were doing. When I was younger, I always remembered my grandmother and various adults saying to me, "go outside and play," in which I would happily go and play with my friends. Bottom line: children don't know how to play anymore. They are often bored by childhood games like hopscotch, hide-and-go-seek, and even jumping rope, because of the dearth of innovations -- Play Station and X-Box -- that have commanded their attention. As someone who wants to be involved in education policy, if we are to repair (one part of) our educational crises, we must do all we can to make sure children have fulfilling childhood experiences. FREE PLAY FOREVER!

Henrietta Holton Thomas, Ed.M.'59
Painter and sculptor

My brother and I came here when we were five and six. Our father used to come to Maine on his childhood vacations so he built a house for us all - dogs, cats and help. There were four or five beaches, depending how far you wanted to go. There was an island to walk to on the rocks that were uncovered at low tide. There were tidal pools where we could search for minnows, crabs, starfish, sea urchins, and eels. Minnows were the hardest and crabs would bite. There was a big old apple tree we could climb easily. A bigger challenge was the huge oak tree on Northeast Point. The blinking light on a metal scaffolding tower at the end of the point was worth climbing to. We could lie down on the flat rocks and watch the Fin boat races or see the schooners going out on their weekly trips. By myself I would make wool dolls and pipe cleaner horses to play out my stories. My mother's sunken flower bed was full of different species and we learned them all. When I was older, I had a horse to take care of and ride with a stable and corral. We had sailing lessons and races with other children. Truly a children's paradise! Inspiration to creativity and discovery!

Natashia Lopez-Gomez, Ed.M.,'94
Latino/a studies instructor, Notre Dame de Namur University
Belmont, Calif.

Growing up in Oregon during the early '70s and mid-'80s, I have many wonderful childhood memories of play. Neighborhood kids would meet outside on weekends and during the summer months and start a game of tag or hide-and-seek. There were no cell phones, so our parents would either scream our names from the front porch when it was time to go inside, or we would have a rule that we had to be in before dark. If it was after dark and you were still outside, then you knew you could get in trouble and chances are your parents were already outside starting to hunt you down. I remember there was always one house in every neighborhood that we all thought was "haunted," usually only because it wasn't well taken care of and you rarely saw people come in and out. We would scare ourselves by walking near the house or daring people to go up, knock, and then run. We also had lots of open fields that I guess did not belong to anyone. We would run through these fields and if there were blackberry bushes, we would pick them. One time, I remember feeding ducks at a local pond and they ended up following us almost all the way home. It was so cute. Lastly, I remember, at age 10 or so, how we would go to this abandoned pickle factory where they had these huge old pickle barrels that you could climb into. We had fun helping each other up the side of the barrels and then flopping ourselves over. Once inside, you then had the exciting task of getting yourself back out.