“All of us knew our West Indian cricketers, so to speak, from birth, when they made their first century, when they became engaged, if they drank whiskey instead of rum. A Test player with all his gifts was not a personage remote, to be read about in the papers and worshipped from afar. They were all over the place, ready to play in any match, ready to talk. There was never a net at which you could not bowl to them if you could keep a length. If you couldn’t you could always stand behind. It was one of our greatest strengths, why we have been able to do so much with so little.”
SOURCE: CLR James, Beyond a Boundary, p. 84
West Indies cricket lives in the realm of myth for me. I remember being so excited going to see them play in the Test at the Basin Reserve on their tour in 1987.
The batting top order thrilled me: Greenidge, Haynes, Gomes, Richardson, Richards (yes, Viv Richards!).
And the bowling attack - well, name me a better one: Marshall, Holding, Garner, Walsh.
It was a team of icons, or soon to be icons. But that was West Indies cricket in the 1980s - iconic, mythologic, intimidating, spellbinding, relentless, eternally great.
Everyone always wonders how that small group of islands continually churned out such great players. James tells us: people grew up with and lived with the greats. They talked to them, played with them, knew them.
They were not elevated above and placed behind barriers.
The All Blacks used to be like this too.
It strikes me that if we want kids to aspire to things, we need to give them access to people who can do things well in as wide a range of fields as possible.
I think of these as slides to mastery.
“Mastery of reading and writing requires a master. Still more so life.”
Marcus Aurelius
Late last term I had the pleasure of seeing my daughter sing in the school choir. It’s a choir anyone can join. They are ably stretched and honed by the school’s former principal, who’s a masterful musician.
The kids were wonderful, singing with a harmony and energy that reached beyond them and into us, the audience.
A sense of joy was everywhere: in them, in us.
And I thought at one point, it’s not really that hard is it, this school thing?
Just give kids as many ways as possible to be involved in meaningful things. Let them play to their strengths so that they get to feel good more often than not.
Schools need a variety of slides to mastery.
And those slides need to be accessible to all who are interested. When this is the case, we’ve met at least one of Peter Gray’s characteristics of play
“Play is self-chosen and self-directed.”
SOURCE: Peter Gray, Free to Learn, p. 140.
This is one of the ways in which we can start to think of play as being more than blocks and LEGO, as something more than a childish pursuit.
Because play is found in the spirit in which a person approaches something.
And that spirit is infectious.
People bring their best selves when they want to be involved. Especially when there’s someone there who provides that example of how good they can be.
This is why we need closeness and proximity to masters. It’s this that lets us aspire to greatness because we can see it, it’s touchable, it’s knowable.
And so …
My heart sinks every time I see kids singing along to a YouTube song, instead of having someone with a guitar singing with them.
My heart sinks every time I see kids being read a story by a screen, instead of having someone bring it to life for them.
My heart sinks every time … (your turn)
All these things put distance between the child and the act of creation. They all say being good at something is far away, perhaps untouchable.
If we want play to be a pedagogy of aspiration, there needs to be a place for masters. Especially as kids get older.
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Last week
Kate’s comment on last week’s post, Building Beehives for Play, was bravely honest and something all of us who have gone into play have felt:
“When I was teaching in a free play environment, there were often these longings for something I could never quite put my finger on. I often thought it was my ego simply wanting to be more involved and directive, and attach my own agenda into the play …”