Fred Lauer (Yamagata)
I’m outside, in the rain, soaked to my boots and trying my best to get a handle on the tarp as the wind whips it to and fro. Just as I tighten the final guy line and secure the tarp, a sudden gust sends the smoke of our campfire in my direction. The smell of woodsmoke fills my nose, and I struggle to keep my eyes shut. Amid the stinging smoke and the heavy rain and wind, is a cacophony of voices. The children, aged four through six, who’ve joined me for this day outside are jubilant. They work diligently to make a forest friend doll out of two whittled sticks and a bit of string. We’re all a bit wet, and a bit cold, but the warm fire and hot chocolate helps keep the worst of it at bay. Once we’ve finished our hot drinks, and grilled cheese snacks, the kids are away again. They’re heading down to the small stream to watch the reed boats they made float down the tiny rapids. As the children jump and splash, laughing as they take on even more water, I feel content and happy. 120 |
It wasn’t so long ago that children could be seen outside playing freely, without adult surveillance. In my childhood I spent most of my days outdoors. As many a salted slug would contest, not all my adventures were entirely innocent, but they provided me resilience and self-worth. I climbed every tree I could find, sucked the sap right off the maples, rode my bicycle for miles, and walked for hours along the train tracks in search of treasures. White picket fences in America used to just be a way to declare one’s property line; now they’re the demarcation for where it’s okay to play for many children. In fact, a child’s ability to play freely has taken a drastic turn. As play is discouraged in favor of school readiness, and from rampant fears about risks outdoors, more and more children are stuck indoors, often in front of screens. As many as half of all preschool children never play outside. (1) For the children that do play outdoors, many are
