Weapon Play: Part Two
A Reflective Experience
In our last post, we proposed that weapon play has a place in our play spaces. We know that weapon play is a controversial topic. We all have an opinion about it and varying levels of comfort. However, we cannot assume that a child playing a game involving weapons or even death means the same thing that it does to us.
A couple of years ago, our forest went from Minecraft building to a sudden interest in warfare. The play was bigger and louder. Sticks became guns, and battle forts were constructed where airplanes and portals once stood. The children naturally divided into groups and suddenly we were faced with the challenge of navigating boundaries. The question remained: Do we let this play continue? Does this type of play have value?
My initial reaction was that it made me uncomfortable. In fact, to this day, I still find it unsettling to see a child point even a pretend gun at another person. In my adult body, I feel the weight of actual violence playing out in the world–the actual ramifications of war on people who are experiencing it. But children do not understand the larger scope of what war is or even how gun violence affects society. Hopefully, they will never have to experience it.
My gut reaction (as is the reaction of many adults) was to put a stop to the play. When you are working with children, you have to be strategic about how you present an opportunity. In our experience, the best way to squelch a learning opportunity is to call it a learning opportunity.If you tell a child they can’t ‘play’ something, it’s often met with pushback. I had been observing the play and noticed that sticks were the hot commodity in this game of war. And so, I set out to consider how else sticks could be utilized. For a whole week, we gave permission to use sticks in new and interesting ways. We took sticks on journey walks, we provided new art materials to be used on or with sticks, we read the book, Not a Stick. We even used sticks as paint brushes and writing utensils. I’m sorry to say, it did not end the warplay. After all of the ‘new’ ways we used sticks, they still wanted to role-play being soldiers and fighting an enemy. (I must point out at this moment that this was the beginning of the Russian attacks on Ukraine, and we overheard several times the children talking about an impending World War 3. Even planes flying over the forest were considered enemies, so it makes sense looking back that this was not just some coincidence that war play began.) As we know, children play out their understanding of the world in safe spaces to make sense of what is happening around them or to them. I realized that this was not going to go away any time soon. This play was important to the children.
I spent quite a bit of time reflecting. The first question I asked myself was: Why am I saying ‘no’ to this play? Why am I uncomfortable with this play? I realized that I didn’t want to promote violence. I thought the theme of the play was too mature. Then I asked myself: What are the children needing from this play? Ultimately,I realized that they were simply playing out good versus evil (or bad guys and good guys). What made me uncomfortable about the play was not the actual game, but the discord it could bring to the group dynamics. From a child development perspective, often, when children play “good guys vs. bad guys” they are building on their understanding of right versus wrong.Sometimes, it is also a way to feel in control when they feel powerless or afraid. Play is a safe space to navigate these big themes. Our role as adults is to help the children navigate them so that they feel safe and in control.
We decided we wanted to see the play go in a different direction. Up until this point, the children were fighting amongst one another without any real common goal. We wanted to figure out a way in which the kids could fight a common enemy instead of one another. We noticed that one of the children made a computer screen out a piece of scrap wood. So, we took this scrap wood computer and created a whole command center. We provided more scrap wood and markers, walkie talkies, and clipboards. We even set out binoculars. We noticed a shift in the play, now they were cooperating with one another. They looked at their ‘invisible’ screens and could see an enemy on the prowl. It did not, however, take away the weapons. Weapon play is an essential element to war. But it did ease the direction of the weapon pointing. Now the weapons were pointing at an invisible enemy instead of at one another. The following week, we added a hospital set up. The children turned it into a combat hospital. Now, instead of fighting enemies, they were caring for the injured. They began playing out search and rescue missions. Children would be injured at the top of the hill, and suddenly a ‘stretcher’ (tarp) would be hauled up the hill to drag the patient to the hospital. Eventually, the war play stopped altogether. They were enjoying taking care of one another and then it shifted to taking care of animals. As Christa so eloquently reflected, “We didn’t end the war. They did.”
Fred Rogers once reminisced, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things on the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” Maybe the war play was a way to feel control over scary things. Maybe the hospital play provided a sense of calm and purpose. We won’t ever really know. Ultimately, what we do know is that we gave them permission. Instead of taking it away altogether, we provided opportunities to fine-tune their experience. This ultimately is what reflective teaching is about. (I want to add that it is almost always experimental. Sometimes your ideas will work, and sometimes they will bomb. Don’t give up!) We’re not saying “promote” weapon play, we’re just saying that it has its place as long as we are willing to see it from a child’s perspective. Oftentimes, it’s not what we assume.
