Child\’s play
When I was in third grade at Brimhall Elementary School in Roseville, a rare and amazing thing happened: the school decided to install a completely new playground. What’s more, they wanted the kids’ help designing it.
This was, in my case, literally a dream come true. I don’t know about other kids, but the amount of time I had already spent daydreaming about a new playground was absurd. This announcement was fuel on the fire.
We convened in the library, on the brown-carpet risers, to offer our suggestions. This was a K-6 school, and there were way too many students for us to all fit at once, so we did it by grades. Each group was allowed time for discussion and questions, after which they were to write their ideas down on a note card and turn them in.
There was one adult in charge of running this show, and even now I pity him. For six hours he stood and told children that despite rumors to the contrary, there was no chance that the new playground would have a roller coaster. He answered questions about the feasibility of installing rocket-boosters. How about a human slingshot?
What do you tell an earnest 7-year-old looking up at you from knee-level and asking if it would be possible to have a series of trampolines interspersed with obstacles? Do you mention the ridiculous liability that would present for the school and every adult working there, or do you smile, take his card, and say, “We’ll see�
Well, they did a little of both. To the really little ones they promised everything, with the catch-all caveat that not every child’s suggestion could be implemented, given the school’s limited budget. So, yes, it would be great to nestle your rear-end in a giant piece of rubber stretched between two posts, but if it doesn’t happen it’s not because we didn’t try.
They were more honest with us older kids. They even went so far as to set ground rules on what would and wouldn’t be considered. In the ‘Yes’ column:
- Swings
- Unusually shaped slides
- Those wobbly bridges, eh? Eh?
Other things were clearly identified as out-of-consideration:
- Things that are very expensive
- Violent references
- Things that might easily maim or dismember a child.
- Unusually shaped slides in the shape of the name of the suggester
But it made no difference. Telling a school-full of children what they can’t hope for in a brand new playground is like telling a car-buying lottery-winner to shop around. Forget it, they’re getting the Ferrari.
Well, when you’re in third grade, lottery or no lottery, you’re not getting the Ferrari. Neither are you getting a trampoline-obstacle-course/slingshot-of-death for your school’s playground.
I went to a different school in fourth grade, but I’ve since driven by the New Playground many times. It has more swings. That’s all. If the designers used any input from the students when planning that playground, it was the suggestion that the playground be a playground, as opposed to a parking lot.
Well, at least the were listening to someone.