Hey there Woo Woo Mommy readers, I’m Sylvan Taylor, blogger at the Sprouts Playschool blog, lead nurturer of small people at Sprouts Playschool here in Baton Rouge, and head engineer of play at Red Stick Pop Up Play.
My lovely friend Rachel, here at Woo Woo Mommy, asked me to guest blog for her some time back, and I have struggled with how best to meld my message with hers. She and I see eye to eye on many things, but not everything, and I’ve wondered how my message fits, exactly.
Frankly, after grappling with this question for a ridiculously long time, I realized the connection was actually incredibly simple.
The primary focus of my work and research is child-led play and learning, and the great benefits of this autonomy on children’s social, emotional, and intellectual well-being.
To borrow from Dr. Peter Gray: “Children come into the world with instinctive drives to educate themselves.”
Children come into the world with instinctive drives to educate themselves.
It’s in our nature – we have all the tools needed to learn anything we want or need ourselves, with little to no intervention from others.
Rachel focuses her words here on our ability to heal ourselves through listening to our bodies and making healthy, natural choices based on our own observations… We have an instinctive drive to educate ourselves.
Society these days isn’t so into this idea, especially when it comes to parenting. Trusting your own instincts too much, or, God forbid, trusting your children’s instincts, is seen as foolish, reckless, even dangerous.
We worry a lot about our kids. A lot. This current generation of parents is inundated with warnings, with news reports reminding us that the modern world is a scary, scary place. If you turn your back, your child may be abducted, or so we’re told.
The thing is, your child is far, far less likely to be abducted by a stranger (the statistic for stranger abductions is around 0.00015% of all abductions, which are rare to begin with) than he is to be diagnosed with and medicated for ADHD, depression, or an anxiety disorder. Estimates of children diagnosed with ADHD range between 5% and 11% of children, depending on the source. Depression affects around 15% of children before age 18, and anxiety affects nearly a third. These are staggering statistics, and as I will discuss later, these numbers are growing, largely because of the ways we are raising children counter to their nature.
Oddly, we fret a great deal about the wrong things. And in this fretting, we fear what we perceive to be “risky” for our children.
The fact is, there’s inherent risk in every choice we make. Well, every choice worth making at all, that is.
We call choices “risky” if they make us nervous. We have given “risk” a nasty, scary connotation. We’ve started saying “rather not chance it” about every little thing, especially when it comes to our kids. “You can never be too safe!”seems to be the rallying cry of this generation.
But that’s wrong.
We forget that risk is often defined as the “potential of gaining or losing something of value.”
Playing it safe leaves us without the potential to gain something of power. It leaves an empty space in our lives, in the lives of our children, that cannot be filled. Our lives are duller, flatter, less, without risk.
Risk isn’t just the chance that something bad can happen. It’s the chance that something good can happen. The very nature of risk is that there is something to be gained, something worthwhile, something valuable.
We should encourage our kids to be risk takers.
We should encourage them to follow their instinctive drive to educate themselves.
Being a risk taker is not the same as being reckless. It’s quite the opposite, really.
Being able to evaluate risk – that means being able to accurately gauge the potential gains and losses in a given situation – is vital for growth. There’s not much to be gained without risk.
The picture above is my seven year old son climbing a dry creek bed in Terlingua, Texas. It was about ten feet from the ground to the top of the bank. I don’t know if I can describe my joy in watching him scale it.
The bank was crumbly in parts, and he tested each hand- and foothold carefully to ensure it wouldn’t fall away under his weight. At one point, he got overconfident and grabbed without testing. The bank crumbled and he slipped, turning to slide on his butt until he caught himself and then immediately started up again, even more cautiously than before, but without a moment’s hesitation. He made it to the top in a matter of minutes. and thrilled at the view – both of the mountains up above, and of his mom and little sister below in in the creek bed.
This was risk. It was a risk for him and a risk for me.
It wasn’t reckless. It wasn’t careless. It was risk – a chance to gain something of value paired with a chance to fall, to fail. He understood the risk and all it entailed, and I did, too. We both trusted in his abilities and knew he was capable.
He gained something climbing to the top of that creek bank, as he does each time he tests himself, tries something new, takes a risk. He gains confidence in himself, he strengthens his body, he learns something new by seeing the world from a slightly different perspective. These are things we all can gain from risk.
Valuable gains are inherent in risk.
The trip itself was a risk. We drove countless hours (my husband, our fearless, tireless driver, estimates about 50 hours of driving, and I don’t think he’s wrong). We camped in tents and hiked in deserts and waded in the Rio Grande. We risked car trouble and whiny kids and sunburn and rattlesnakes and broken bones and probably other stuff too. We toured three National Parks, two National Monuments and two State Parks. We saw mountains and deserts and rivers and caverns. We found ancient petroglyphs and tiny desert wildflowers and white lizards that were perfectly camouflaged in the dunes of White Sands. We witnessed sunsets and sunrises over the wide open desert and viewed countless stars in the inky black skies only found when you’re far from the city and up way past bedtime. My son bought a souvenir pocket knife and sat up whittling in the evenings, the lure of television and Minecraft momentarily forgotten.
The benefits outweighed any potential losses.
We didn’t even see any rattlesnakes, for the record. The kids were actually kind of bummed. No scorpions, either, or scary spiders, and the only nasty interaction with a cactus resulted in my seven year old pulling out the spines himself at his own insistence. The lessons he learned and the pride he took in yanking out each spine with the pocket knife pliers outweighed the discomfort of the moment.
In Joan Almon’s Adventure: The Value of Risk in Children’s Play, she reminds us that “facing risk helps children assess the world around them and their place in it.” She goes on to say that “most children have an innate ability to assess risk… With opportunity to practice they become skilled in taking risks. Opportunity to master increasingly challenging play is essential for safety in play.”
It is vital that we allow children these opportunities. It’s hard to step back and let them, but we absolutely must. This is how they learn to be safe, how they will be able to navigate dangers when we aren’t there to guide them.
The consequences of not allowing children the chance to make choices, some of them risky, and to learn from both their successes and their missteps, are tremendous. The adage “better a broken bone than a broken spirit” comes to mind, though children who are consistently given the chance to challenge themselves – to engage in risky, powerful play – are actually less likely to break a bone.
In The Role of Risk in Play and Learning, Almon tells us that “although no one wants to see a child injured, creating an environment that is overly safe creates a different kind of danger for them. Growing up in a risk-averse society, such as we currently have, means children are not able to practice risk-assessment which enables them to match their skills with the demands of the environment. As a result, many children have become very timid and are reluctant to take risks. At the opposite extreme, many have difficulty reading the situations they face and take foolhardy risks, repeatedly landing in trouble.”
Opportunities to take on calculated, appropriate risks actually decrease the chance your child will be seriously hurt. A child who has been given opportunities for risky play knows his body, knows his limitations, understand the world around him.
There are tremendous emotional and spiritual implications, as well.
Peter Gray discusses the value of risky play from an evolutionary perspective in Risky Play: Why Children Love It And Need It : “Such findings have contributed to the emotion regulation theory of play—the theory that one of play’s major functions is to teach young mammals how to regulate fear and anger. In risky play, youngsters dose themselves with manageable quantities of fear and practice keeping their heads and behaving adaptively while experiencing that fear. They learn that they can manage their fear, overcome it, and come out alive…Thus, according to the emotion regulation theory, play is, among other things, the way that young mammals learn to control their fear and anger so they can encounter real-life dangers, and interact in close quarters with others, without succumbing to negative emotions.” Kids need the chance to learn to deal with these emotions and to recover from events that anger them or scare them. Practicing these skills in manageable situations during childhood help them build a toolkit that they can draw from when they encounter bigger, scarier things as adults.
What does this mean for our modern kids, deprived of risky play opportunities? What happens to kids who don’t get these opportunities? Gray’s research finds that “over the past 60 years we have witnessed, in our culture, a continuous, gradual, but ultimately dramatic decline in children’s opportunities to play freely, without adult control, and especially in their opportunities to play in risky ways. Over the same 60 years we have also witnessed a continuous, gradual, but ultimately dramatic increase in all sorts of childhood mental disorders, especially emotional disorders.” Our kids are developing anxiety disorders and depression at alarming rates. Gray says “We deprive children of free, risky play, ostensibly to protect them from danger, but in the process we set them up for mental breakdowns. Children are designed by nature to teach themselves emotional resilience by playing in risky, emotion-inducing ways. In the long run, we endanger them far more by preventing such play than by allowing it. And, we deprive them of fun.”
There’s inherent risk in every choice we make.
I choose to let my children explore in ways that others might deem “risky,” and I own that choice as a positive one for my family.
Risk is the potential of gaining or losing something of value.
(I’m using the definition of risk used in the study of industrial and organizational psychology, by the way, as I feel it is the most appropriate. See here for a relevant discussion if you are so inclined).
I do allow my children to take on situations in which they may fall, or encounter disappointment, or failure or bumps and bruises.
But therein lies the chance for them to experience things that strengthen them physically, mentally and spiritually. These are their chances to ward off anxiety and depression. These are their chances to feel strong and powerful and confident.
These are their chances to experience the world from new perspectives, to wander, to wonder, to fully live.
It would be far worse for me as a parent to shield them from the beauty and wonder that this big world holds for them because I was scared they’d get hurt.
The big risks always have big potential gains. I hope I always take the risk.
I hope they do, too.
There is so much of value to gain.
And so much to lose if they don’t get that chance.
To me, the worst loss would be a broken spirit.
Want to learn more?
Check out these books and websites:
Gray, Dr. Peter Free to Learn
Hanscom, Angela J., Balanced and Barefoot: How Unrestricted Outdoor Play Makes for Strong, Confident and Capable Children
Johnson, Jeff A. and Dinger, Denita, Let Them Play: An Early Learning (Un)Curriculum
King, Malcom and Tawil, Ben The Venture: A Case Study of an Adventure Playground
Leichter-Saxby and Law, Suzanna The New Adventure Playground Movement: How Communities Across the USA are Returning Risk and Freedom to Childhood
Louv, Richard The Last Child in the Woods
Murphy, Lisa, Lisa Murphy on Play: The Foundation of Children’s Learning
Plank, Emily Discovering the Culture of Childhood
Shumaker, Heather, It’s Okay Not to Share
Shumaker, Heather, It’s Okay to Go Up the Slide
Skenazy, Lenore, Free-Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry)
I’m Sylvan Taylor, a nurturer of small people and engineer of play at Sprouts Playschool, an in-home childcare and learning center in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I spend my days playing, creating, and exploring with a small group of 2 – 4 year olds, many of whom have been with me since before they were walking. In a previous life, I was a classroom teacher in public schools, working largely with fourth and fifth graders. I hold a Master of Science degree in Elementary Education and National Board Certification for middle elementary grades, and while I loved my students, the high-stakes, low-creativity culture in today’s schools drove me out in favor of a more authentic environment in which to teach and learn. In addition to all this, I’m a mother of two awesome kids and a rescue dog, a wife to a PhD candidate, and a lover of good books, road trips, zombie films, and finding new uses for curbside junk. I also advocate for play and authentic learning here in Baton Rouge through Red Stick Pop Up Play. You can catch me speaking about the importance of play and authentic, child-led learning at events around Baton Rouge, on the Dirty Playologist podcast and at the June 2017 Play Empowers Rally for Play. Thanks for reading! PLAY ON!!