Freedom

A space to play. 

We’ve been in the park for 6 afternoons now and whilst I know this must end, I also know that it’s also a beginning.

Yesterday marked the start of week two. It was a really chilled day. And we’re not sure why. We wondered if it was because it was Monday, or that children are becoming more practiced in organising and directing their own play, there’s less of ‘what can I do next’ and more of ‘can you get me, I need.’ 

There seemed to be more adults joining in play too yesterday. Maybe they found the permission they felt they needed. Maybe the new faces who joined us yesterday are natural players and that encouraged others. I really loved the care I saw of the play, notably by some of the men who tended to the marble run and seemed to really enjoy supporting construction and cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

I’ve observed too how most people seem to just find their place and fit themselves right in. Use it as they see fit too. Particularly those who often find it difficult to fit in in school life. They pop in and out, taking what they need, and have started to bring their disagreements into the space, which provides an opportunity for experiencing problem solving in a more circular and restorative way. They wait to be told off, or given sanctions. Creating space for more equal relationships and accountability to each other seems to be deepening relationships and mutual respect.

It’s really interesting too to see convenors emerge from the sidelines. Young women who have turned up day in and day out, are beginning not only to organise their own play, but host play and games for others. Something amazing will emerge from this energy.

And the role of the play ranger feels important too. Whilst setting up yesterday children shared tales of Sunday at the park and a different kind of atmosphere and environment.  Setting up is a bit like driving with a young person. A good time to talk, without having to make too much eye contact and in between, ‘where shall we put this?’, ‘what next?’ 

As I listened it felt as if in some ways the estate and the children are held to ransom. In prison, shackled almost. There’s a fear and children compete to be allowed to play. It’s a big one, conversations are almost whispered. Is this person safe enough to tell? Does it mean I’m soft if I say it can be a bit scary. I suppose they had to experience something different in the play space to be able to notice the difference for themselves. What happens I wonder when you begin to experience the same place in a different way?

There’s something about the play box, that really is a container on so many levels. Sometimes I look at it, and it’s as if it smiles at me. Maybe it’s reflecting back the smile on my face?