Playgrounds Brielle Reynolds, Jubilee Novitsky, & Carson Hoffmeyer

Playgrounds

Playgrounds: where you spend your time swinging, the thrill filling your stomach as you reach higher to the sky, almost reaching it, but it's always just out of grasp. What about sliding and feeling the electricity surrounding your body? Or the feeling of going down the slide head first, going again and again and again?

What makes a playground great? It has to be the feeling of flying when you make it on top of the monkey bars, the weight of the world off your shoulders. The swings are the best—the time you spend, looking up at the stars, counting each individual cloud in the sky. When you're above everyone and can see the things you never thought before, your mind empty of thoughts, only the world above you. Swinging and swinging, your mind starts to wander above and beyond the very sense of sanity, while going down the slide your mind travels to a different place; you can hear yourself breathing in fear or screaming— am I the only one who likes slides? No, that can't be right. Swings—they take you up, into the sky, above the worries and troubles of life; it is the most ecstatic feeling, swooshing from bar to bar, your feet dangling from your body. These are the wood chips that we walk on. Meaning that there are splinters in our skin. We are told that we are filled with responsibility, having no room for play. “You had all the time when you were young and now it’s time to decay.” Decay into the social expectations of youth.

Decay into the idea that adolescence is the worst portion of existence.

Decay. Decay. Decay.

Resentment from adults telling you you’re supposed to get used to being sad, the advocates of life telling us to enjoy our childhood and become an adult in the same breath. Being told to “hurry up and grow up,” But if you grow up too fast you miss all the fun you’re supposed to have. “Grow up,” they say. Time to start another day filled with the glorification of childhood. “You'll miss your youth.” But weren't we supposed to be adults? There is no middle ground. Once you reach a certain age, you become aware of the wood chips that litter the ground. You might want to go on the playground, but you’ll be judged, called childish and made fun of.

I think it's time for a change. How about sand rather than wood, where we can be who we would like, get treated how we want to be, and live in a world where kids can be kids.

Brielle Reynolds, Jubilee Novitsky, & Carson Hoffmeyer, Grade 8 Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview Teaching Artists: Desdamona, Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre,

Frank Sentwali, and SEE MORE PERSPECTIVE