8OO kids in a group is probably not something most people can
imagine, unless you happen to be a primary school teacher. My last school had a
mere 3OO students and that included kindergarten through high school. Though the elementary alone only had
about 13O kids, we spent a good deal of time discussing recess. Recess duty, recess rules, recess routines.
My initiation into recess in Kinshasa was shocking. I was fresh from
the US with rigid rules and safeguards in place. The playground I encountered
seemed to be a haven of hazardous behavior and children run amok. Over the
years we worked to create regulations that were clear and consistent and
contributed to the safety of students. There were challenges in getting
children to understand and comply with the guidelines and getting adults to
follow through with consistency. It seemed to be a constant work in process.
In the French system duty is called service,
aptly so, and thus far happily involves a lot less discussion. My first day at
school here, the director outlined a few new protocols he wanted to try and
we’ve been off and running ever since.
The kids are allowed to choose the area they want to play in. Apparently
last year students were assigned areas on a rotating basis. Supervision is handled by teachers and the
‘surveillance team.’ I really love this
concept and they do an incredible job.
Every Tuesday and Thursday I find myself on the covered basketball
court watching an obscene number of children roam wild. We have 3 main areas
for recess and so the entire population of students is somewhat spread out. It
still works out to a swarm of children such as I have never seen in my life. I
was in awe the first day. Actually, I’m in awe every Tuesday and Thursday.
My post is the basketball court, but I also keep an eye out on the
soccer field and track surrounding it, the grassy area next to the court and
the picnic tables. The court hosts 4 basketball games and something that
resembles soccer, except they get to use their hands and throw the ball to make
a goal. In addition to all these games
going on simultaneously, there are the random groups of kids just racing
through and the ones having their snacks on the sidelines.
Over on the soccer field it appears to be equal mayhem. The running
track that surrounds the field turns into a scooter derby as children race laps
despite the games of tag, soccer offshoots and groups of giggling girls
meandering by.
There is pushing and tugging, screaming and laughing. Kids fall down
and friends offer a hand to pick them up.
They argue about who had the ball, who gets the ball, who is out and who
is in and, most often, they resolve their dilemmas on their own. Rarely is an
adult called on to intervene. The few times I had to talk to a group about
rough play, they dispersed back into the crowd, disbanding and forming new
groups, new games and new disputes.
It’s beautiful play. Children being children. They are allowed the
space to discover, explore, create, discuss, argue and problem solve. They organize their time, some choosing to
sit and eat before playing, some choosing to munch while they wander. They
touch and tug, fall down and get back up. They win and lose. They share and
refuse. And they keep an eye out for us
adults.
I generally enjoy recess duty. I like the chance to be outside, to
walk around and to see the games children play.
What I’ve noticed most about having so many kids out there playing
together is that my presence is needed less. I still check in occasionally and
there are a few that like to hang around and talk to me but usually only for a
minute. It often seems that by the time I arrive on the scene, I’m no longer
needed. Today I saw a boy lingering by the basketball hoop. He looked as though
he might be feeling left out or trying to figure out how to join in. Just as I
decided to go and talk with him, one of the kids from the basketball game
swooped by, wrapped his arms around the boy and invited him to join in. The boy refused, preferring to stay where he
was by the post, but now I knew he wasn’t lonely or left out.
It feels good, this not being needed. It feels right. I’m there for safety only, for the serious stuff they can’t
work out, and only after they’ve already tried.
It leaves me feeling a bit like an anthropologist. Surrounded by masses of little people, I
wander amongst them observing and discerning….what are they doing? I saw a group of boys today playing a game that
looked similar to Mother May I? except they were striking poses and the ‘mother’
appeared to be doing everything in his power to make the others laugh or break
pose. Turns out this game is called 1,2,3 Sun and that’s the most I could
gather. They seemed a bit suspicious of
my questioning. I continued my observations from a distance and left them to go back
to their beautiful play.
