I find it interesting to ask people about their best memories of childhood. Often, their answer refers to an event, time or activity where children played away from adult supervision. I wonder if that’s how it was for you? I can certainly remember exploring the woods and the beach near our home with a gang of neighbouring children, when was I quite young, which was a long time ago.
We know that children’s ability to roam has been severely curtailed in the intervening years, for many reasons. For some children, maybe their unsupervised experiences occurred in the back yard, in another room, or under the table with a blanket providing screening. This prompts the question, what is it about unsupervised activities that we value as children? Why might we want to play away from adults, what are the benefits and what role might adults serve in supporting this need?
An observation trip to Capri
In celebration of a special anniversary many years ago, one summer my wife and I stayed on the beautiful (and expensive!) island of Capri for a week. One afternoon we explored the coastline from our remote hotel by foot, following the path along rocky outcrops overlooking the turquoise-coloured Mediterranean before clambering up very steep steps across the rock-face from the sea up to the town square of Ana Capri. We arrived at our destination just as the primary school emptied into the heat of the Italian afternoon. There was suddenly a lively, youthful exodus from the school gates, past the play park and on into the town square. We followed, passing the play park ourselves, noting the curiously chained-up gates shielding rusting and overgrown play equipment within.
We found an outside table at a café from which we observed the town’s children and their carers whilst we enjoyed our coffee. For us two Early Years practitioners, the scene in front of us revealed a very interesting dynamic. The adults formed a protective ring (proximity maintenance in attachment terms) surrounding the main square. They were engaged in passionate conversation with one another, gesticulating with their hands as only Italians do and ostensibly ignoring the children who occupied the centre of the square. We observed that this mixed-age group of boys and girls had no resources, equipment, planning, adult supervision or instruction and yet we witnessed deep engagement, social interaction, negotiation, clear rules, language, maths, physical activity, imagination, creativity and an overwhelming sense of well-being and fun. Occasionally a child would briefly interrupt an adult carer with a request but for the main part they were very happy to play on their own whilst their parents practised what I term benign neglect.
I use this term tongue in cheek. As teachers we always have a duty of care as our primary focus – just as the Italian parents and grandparents ensured they were available for their children if needed and observing them but they did so in a trusting and respectful manner that provided a safety net comprising the whole community to ensure protection. No child was ever isolated or overlooked but they were free to be themselves, to pursue their own agenda.
Interacting of interfering?
Arguably, benign neglect is a central theme of Julie Fisher’s book ‘Interacting or Interfering?’ in which she challenges the notion that children require constant adult supervision to manage their play and development. Julie contends that much of what adults deem necessary guidance, instruction and direction is perceived by children as interference.
Alison Gopnik employs the wonderful metaphors of ‘The Gardener and the Carpenter’ in her book of the same title. The carpenter fashions and shapes raw material with a fixed view of the intended end product, in contrast to the gardener who plants seeds, tends and nurtures them as they grow, with no preconceptions and delights in the beauty of the subsequent blooming flowers and fruit. Alison compares these approaches to parenting, those who micro-manage and control in an attempt to fashion an end product from their child versus the carers who practice husbandry – nurture and cultivation and a sense of knowing when to step back and let nature take its course. Extending this analogy, we can relate to the appeal of the wild or naturalistic garden, deliberately left unmanaged. It is precisely the absence of planning and control that is apparent and attractive to the eye in the resulting display.
The padlocked gates of the Ana Capri play area with its overgrown slide and climbing frame are a graphic reminder of well-meaning adult provision that fails to meet the needs of children. It is easy to persuade ourselves that what our children really need is us, to control and organise every aspect of their day and their learning. Who knows what might happen if we leave them to their own devices? They might be hurt, upset, bored or mischievous. We worry that without adults present to oversee their activities, children will fail to develop in the expected pathway, to the standard required by our educational systems.