The Play Hour
- Author:
Ruth Bernice Bush and Madella Rigby
Recorder of the Psychological Clinic, University of Pennsylvania The play hour is not so much an analytic study of the individual child as a study of his reactions in a socialized group. He is no longer a single unit but part of a small community; and although he is expressing himself in a world of play, he is living life to the fullest then, and his whole experiential background will have the tinge of playboy carried on through life and colored by his first years of social mixing and self-expression.
The playing we have done has for the most part been spontaneous, and done according to the earnest needs or wishes of the group. Sometimes, however, I have led them and tried to cultivate their interests, for example dancing to the music box. Our first effort was to put to music a short story or idea. This dancing was interpretative or pantomimic. The children were markedly unself-conscious and did not hesitate to sway in rhythm to the music, although their knowledge of the steps was limited. I did not try to teach them any steps since that would introduce a conscious element that I felt should be lacking in this type of dance. Pierre was fondest of this dance and often asked for it, while Spencer who is older and feels such dancing makes him a sissy, on several occasions declined to participate, or else would drop out for certain parts of it. I never insisted that he do it when he felt that he did not want to. On the other hand, I tried very urgently to have David, age 5, join in, since his negativism is built on lack of confidence, rather than an emotional dislike of appearing overly childish. The socialization motif may be predominant in managing such a group, but every reaction on the part of the child is a personal, selfish one, and must be handled separately. Besides our dancing to stories we also attempted rhythmic exercises, such as stretching the legs straight out to music, raising hands in time, bending, walking like soldiers, etc.
Another part of the play hour has been devoted to story telling or reading. One of the first primers we read has tales that point practical morals and we have discussed them quite a bit deciding how to protect against mosquitoes, what to do about flies, etc. Story telling leads right into telling of stories by the children and while most of their material has been anecdotal or personal, ocTHE PLAY HOUR 45 casionally I have had them repeat parts of a story they have heard. Marilyn, age 6, and Spencer, age 7, especially like this because they do not feel as embarrassed as the younger children. The most rampant and delightful imaginations are those of the Brook children, Pierre, age 6 and Francis, age 4, and the most refreshing thing is their co-operation with one another in telling the most gargantuan tales they can devise. They love to tell how their father saved a cow from a railroad track by shooting her off on his bumper.
I became all excited at this heroic gesture only to find out that the cow was a cellulloid one and the train a part of a toy set. Two days ago Francis announced, “Our favver killed a man, he did, he did.” When I remonstrated, he turned to Pierre for corroboration. Pierre started to support him but I told them that was impossible. Then they both lapsed into temporary calm and sulkiness. Pierre declared, “Well then it must have been two other fellows.” By that time their injured dignity wrould not permit them to tell me whether it was two other fellows that their father had killed, or two other fellows who had killed the first victim. So I dare not doubt them or I will lose their confidence, and in the meantime, if I do not watch out, I find myself as gullible as the youngest of the group. Games are used as a means of keeping the children active and in socialized grouping as well. I taught them London Bridge which they liked, and ‘’ All Around the Mulberry Bush,’’ but we are rather restricted in playing these games because, to be effective, the number should be larger. As an exercise I recently taught them “Simon Says” and for some time we played Peanuts,?a running and counting game. The more play there is the better the children like it, and I find that they enjoy it better playing by two’s against each other than having each one run separately. Occasionally for exercise we have stiff-legged races, skipping races and hopping across the room. The competitive spirit is enough to make a game out of the simplest exercise for the children, and I think it is better not to encumber them with too much formality.
Besides the reading and telling of stories, I sometimes have the children act them out. So far we have done “The Billy Goats” on several occasions with different parts taken by each child. Spencer makes a very fine villain, and usually chooses that part because of its dramatic quality. He has a flourish for living in the part he assumes and can translate his imagination into action, while Pierre, with much more imagination is too volatile to come down to acting his part. Between these two and Marilyn there is a constant struggle to act the lead. Sometimes the boys object to having a girl assume the lead in a manly part, but they do not hesitate to play Goldenlocks with all her lovely curls and timid manner.
Very little needs to be said of the traits or characteristics of each child except as they apply specifically to the play group. At first, I found Spencer to be the least likable child of the group. He had several mean, nasty little habits. For example, he would shove and push another child when he thought I was not looking. He would even pinch the children, especially Pierre because he knew Pierre would be quick to fight him back. They exchanged some good blows the first month, but after I had reprimanded Spencer for it once severely, once nicely, and once by keeping him out of the game, I have not been annoyed with this trait again. I explained to him that as the oldest boy I expected him to help me, not to make it harder. Since then he has offered to bring up chairs, open the door for youngsters, take them to the bathroom, or get them a drink. Once when Marilyn spoke in an imperative little manner to me, Spencer politely remarked, “Marilyn, say please, please.” Spencer’s environment outside the Clinic is not so fine as that of the other children and I think he may bring in nasty words sometimes, but he has shown himself most co-operative for some months now and most desirous of affection and praise.
The Brook children are a delight. Chubby Francis often gets “thleepy” and drops out, but Pierre will be active and make comments to the last minute. The two always rush in to me excitedly with a tale of the latest exploit of their dad, his lallapaloosa or what not. They keep the group in turmoil with their vitality.
Vincent, age 5, is most liked by all the children, I think. When he is absent they will inquire specifically about him, although they seem indifferent to anyone else once he or she is out of their sight. Marilyn is especially interested in Vincent with an adorable combination of an Amazon and a mother hen. She ruffles over him, speaks up for him, corrects him, prods him along.
I am glad five year old Felicity has joined the class now, because she is a fine foil for Marilyn. She is much more the young child than is Marilyn who has a certain maturity and poise in her young person. Felicity is equally bright and her naivete is refreshing. David presents the most serious problem of all with his language difficulty, his sensitiveness and his youngness. While adults may look on and observe the cause of his not mingling with the group, to him it is a deep wound, and rather than overcome it, he retires into his shell. I cannot cajole or force him to do anything since I must not single him out for the marked attention of the children that correction of his particular maladjustment would require. For a while I tried to take him aside while the others were playing with the blocks to teach him the things they knew so he would catch up. His motor co-ordination is not adjusted for skipping. I have shown him the hops, the foot changing, everything connected with skipping, yet he cannot get it. He is too tense, too conscious of his inability to have the verve and heedlessness that makes a skip come so naturally. David has the great misfortune to be an only child.
This group of irrepressible, irresponsible, and irrestible youngsters is possessed of a vitality and activity that keeps me constantly on the alert. As time went on I began to feel that greater cooperation and democracy were needed. I observed a certain tendency to clique, to express a conscious superiority either on the basis of social standing or mental accomplishment. Marilyn exemplified this best when she announced to Vincent who was trying to help her with the cylinders, “You don’t need to help me, Vincent, I’ve been in this University longer than you have.” Spencer with a sense of inferiority, I think, tried to dissemble it by carrying his actions to the extreme of pettishness, while Pierre, with total lack of self-consciousness, was so much himself that he endangered the safety of the others. In all, then, what these children needed was a greater self-expression, but expression in a more socialized conformity.
Charlie, age 5, came to the fore in story-telling, showing a responsibility and an ability to throw himself into another character to a degree unusual in a child of his age. I feel he is even more spoilt and babied than any of the others. He will whimper and come close for fondling as soon as he feels his mother is out of sight and that he must act independently. But once his mind can be diverted to something else, he instantly throws himself into the part, and assumes a role of leadership. It will be rather difficult for Charlie to overcome this habit of crying and getting sick of selfpity, I feel, because he is a lovable little boy. The maternal instinct he naturally arouses in teacher tends to encourage rather than discourage this overgrown helplessness. He needs someone who can ignore him or deal strictly with him.
The story-telling that grew out of the reading was to test the retention of the youngsters and give them opportunity of dramatic self-expression. Spencer, who had shone at first, seemed to have lost his grasp. His manner was haphazard and indifferent. He adopted an “I don’t care” attitude, occasionally punctuated by knocks and pinches when he thought I wasn’t looking. On the other hand there would be days when he would go to the other extreme and most punctiliously bring a chair for little Patsy, or take Eddie by the hand. Marilyn showed the most superior ability of this group and gave the whole class a decided impetus when she was with us.
The development of the dancing and music phase of our work was a decided surprise to me. Time and again I have heard the thesis that children are just little well-nurtured animals in whom the sense of rhythm is inherent and that if left untrained, they react to music with the utmost elasticity and relaxation. Time and again I have tried to discover my vivacious group getting the “feel” of music and not once have I discovered it. A colored boy came into the room one day when the children were not there, and with the greatest sensuality and abandonment to the music he threw himself into the negro steps, clogging, stamping, buck and wing. It was very clear that his zest was the primitive zest of feeling himself one with the music. He was not Johnny Jones dancing to music, he was the lilt and the blues of the music itself. Similarly the overly plump, tow-headed boy of low mentality that used to come in and hang around the fringes of the class had a most natural and unconscious reaction to the music. He would sway with his hands raised, no training, no grace but the rhythm came out in spite of that, and one could see that he was allied to the spirit of the song. But not so these youngsters. Patsy does a crude patter of her feet that is rhythmic in the simplest sense, but Pierre and Francis are in such a hurry to do something that will show they are trying at least, that they lose the very relaxation the music is to give them. They almost contort. Pierre especially goes through these acute gyrations that are more like a Robot than a boy. Felicity has the grace and lightness of a dancer, and her dancing classes have given her the background to slip readily into the simple steps I give the group. But close observation shows that, as with so many of us, when she dances, she dances not to music but for dancing’s sake, and if she is ahead of the beat, so much the better because it shows enthusiasm and success in mastering the step. With Priscilla on the other hand, I have difficulty in having her take the first step. She hangs back, hesitates, and I believe is not sure of herself because she cannot see far enough, and with a natural slowness is always getting bumped by Pierre or Felicity.
As a whole it seems to me that the more gifted these children are, the greater the number of factors that enter into their reacting to music. Charlie will say of a sad or slowly beautiful melody, “Aw, take it off. That’s too slow.” Pierre will prance around in double quick time regardless of the beat of time, and Francis will come tumbling after. These children who are half way between a trained consciousness of what music means and says, and the primitive who has the basic conception of music, are not the music lovers popularly held to be found in childhood.
We did some work in clay and I only wish we had devoted more time to it before the youngsters jumbled it past recognition. It is an unusually effective medium both for hands and imagination. We made snakes with great success, in all shapes and sizes. Funny faces came next on the list, and some of the grotesques would have been worthy of Notre Dame. I made no pretence of having the children do any polished piece of work. If the results did come out laughably I wanted them to feel that was the purpose of their amateur art. In this work Priscilla did quite well and Patsy determinedly made her little clay balls and wound out her snake. I would suggest that another year the children make cups and saucers and dishes, as I did when I was a child. Mme. Montessori has said all I would care to say on the subject, but I would not be surprised if somewhere even in our little group there is the seed of an architect or sculptor from the very way in which they run to the building blocks or clay when they think they can work undisturbed by teacher. Such correct ardor at the wrong time ought to bear some fruit.
The favorite games continue to be Peanuts and Going to Jerusalem. In themselves they are fun to play but they reveal a woeful lack of sportsmanship in the young child. In that respect surely, he recapitulates the early race history. Self preservation and Imust-win are his first considerations. Sometimes I look over the group tugging for first place in a race and say jokingly, “Well, now look around. Who do you think will win?” And they one and all look around at the others and then speak for themselves, “I’ll win.” Pierre is loudest in this. “Gimme, I wanta be Jack and the Beanstalk,” he’ll say. I have called their attention to the selfishness of this, usually after one of them has assumed the lead and then not done so well as he might. For a second they are abashed, but the same egocentricity crops out the next time. There are, however, sparks of generosity that are as sudden and as unexpected, and I am pleased to say they attach as little importance to this occasional magnanimity as they do to their selfishness. Thus Pierre, as an older brother, will give up anything to Francis,?if his attention is called to it. Spencer will move the whole building if I look at him and then at Patsy or Eddie implying that they are tots and need big boys to get them chairs.
Another prominent, though unplanned, phase of the hour is the conversational period during dancing or story-telling. Here I try to give them something new, pertinent to what we are doing. For example, one day during gymnastics I asked casually, “Now who knows what a lunge is?”?We were doing a lunge at the time and I hoped they would catch the inference. But, no! A streak of lightning passed between Pierre and Francis and I knew the thinking machines were working. Then came the answer, “A lunge is where you take your sandwiches and papers and go into the woods to eat.”
Each one of the children could have a whole paper devoted to him alone but I must not enlarge too much on my impression of the youngsters. Pierre seems to have either a very acute scientific sense, or good hometraining in observation. Vincent, too, speaks with greater authority than the others on horses and flowers. Probably their summer vacations aid in this. Felicity is now progressing rapidly to the “smart alec” stage. She giggles, preens, goes in for echolalia of syllables that catch her fancy, and in general shows all the possibilities of that debatable quality, the eternal feminine. Her fondness for Vincent is most marked. But then, who does not like Vincent? He is one of those children who, without being the best behaved, or the brightest or the most outstanding in any field, yet wins universal affection through some unknown quality in his make-up. He could hardly be said to be the type that radiates personality. He has a quiet, attractive glow of his own that draws one somehow. He is the most lovable of all the youngsters …. just because.
In closing, I am much reminded of the soliloquies a certain father is fond of making (when he is sure he can be overheard). ‘’ I gave my quota of two children to the race, and set myself out to raise them in my home experimental laboratory. I’ve used the best of precepts and training. They’ve had the most scientifically sound theories to aid their upbringing all along the line. But somehow, the more I look at them, the more certain I am that I raised them, not as a scientist, but as a humanist and father.’’
I feel very much the same way. Experimentally these youngsters have been a revelation of the problems of childhood. They can’t be resolved down to their constituent elements and then built Up again. Diagnostic education, even at its best, it seems to me is risky business. I’d rather play with gunpowder than the irrational element that makes a child a child. That’s what I say, but then each time an addition comes into the class, I welcome the newcomer,?the humanist and the experimenter in me aroused. Like Oliver Twist, even though I’m afraid of the consequences and my own capacity, I say, ‘’ Give me more, please.’’
Disclaimer
The historical material in this project falls into one of three categories for clearances and permissions:
Material currently under copyright, made available with a Creative Commons license chosen by the publisher.
Material that is in the public domain
Material identified by the Welcome Trust as an Orphan Work, made available with a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
While we are in the process of adding metadata to the articles, please check the article at its original source for specific copyrights.