From Children to Red Hatters: Diverse Images and Issues of Play (Play & Culture Studies)

Kuschner

University Press of America®, Inc. publishing across academic disciplines since 1975

From Children to

The Association for the Study of Play (TASP) is the sponsor of this eighth volume in the Play & Culture Studies series. TASP is a professional group of researchers who study play.

Red Hatters®

The focus of this eighth volume of the Play & Culture Studies series is on how play takes many forms as it cuts across species, ages, and cultures. The articles in this

ogy. Applications to practice and policy implications are presented as well. Volume 8 continues the tradition of the Play & Culture Studies series by presenting a view of play that is broad in scope both in terms of the subjects of study and the ways in which researchers approach the study of these diverse forms of play. DAVID KUSCHNER is an associate professor of early childhood education at the University of Cincinnati. His research interests include children’s play, constructivism, and the history and philosophy of early childhood education. He is co-author (with George Forman) of The Child’s Construction of Knowledge: Piaget for

Teaching Children.

Play & Culture Studies, Volume 8

a variety of disciplines including psychology, education, animal studies, and sociol-

From Children to Red Hatters®

volume present current theoretical and empirical research on play and culture from

Diverse Images and Issues of Play Play & Culture Studies, Volume 8

EDITED BY David Kuschner For orders and information please contact the publisher University Press of America®, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200 Lanham, Maryland 20706 1-800-462-6420 www.univpress.com

FromChildrenRedHattersPBK.indd 1

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From Children to Red Hatters® Diverse Images and Issues of Play

Edited by David Kuschner

PLAY & CULTURE STUDIES, Volume 8

UNIVERSITY PRESS OF AMERICA,® INC.

Lanham • Boulder • New York • Toronto • Plymouth, UK

Copyright © 2009 by University Press of America,® Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard Suite 200 Lanham, Maryland 20706 UPA Acquisitions Department (301) 459-3366 Estover Road Plymouth PL6 7PY United Kingdom All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America British Library Cataloging in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Control Number: 2008936782 ISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4291-0 (paperback : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-7618-4291-8 (paperback : alk. paper) eISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4292-7 eISBN-10: 0-7618-4292-6

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Recent Titles in Play & Culture Studies Stuart Reifel, Jaipaul L. Roopnarine, and James E. Johnson, Series Editors Volume 1: Diversions and Divergences in Fields of Play Margaret Carlisle Duncan, Garry Chick, and Alan Aycock, editors Volume 2: Play Contexts Revisited Stuart Reifel, editor Volume 3: Theory in Context and Out Stuart Reifel, editor Volume 4: Conceptual, Social-Cognitive, and Contextual Issues in the Fields of Play Jaipaul L. Roopnarine, editor Volume 5: Play and Education Theory and Practice Donald E. Lytle, editor Volume 6: Play: An Interdisciplinary Synthesis F.F. McMahon, Donald E. Lytle, and Brian Sutton-Smith, editors Volume 7: Investigating Play in the 21st Century Dorothy Justus Sluss and Olga Jarrett, editors

Contents

Foreword James Johnson

vii

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction David Kuschner

xi

1

What is Play?: In Search of a Definition Gwen Gordon

1

2

Play and the Rhetorics of Time: Progress, Regression, and the Meanings of the Present Thomas S. Henricks

14

The Plasticity of an Infant Monkey’s Play When Exposed to Sheep in a Novel Setting Peggy O’Neill-Wagner

39

3

4

Historical Changes in Infant Toys 1865–1930 Eva E. Nwokah

5

Playmate Preferences of Preschool Children Based on Race, Sex, and Perceived Physical Attractiveness Harold Fishbein, D. Michael Malone, and Dolores A. Stegelin

6

Parental Guidance with Four-Year-Olds in Literacy and Play Activities at Home Maureen Vandermaas-Peeler, Jackie Nelson, Melissa von der Heide, and Erica Kelly v

54

74

93

vi

7

Contents

All In a Day’s Work: Children’s Views on Play and Work at the Fifth Grade Level Michael M. Patte

8

Measuring Playfulness and Extracurricular Involvement Marianne B. Staempfli

9

The Red Hat Society®: An Exploration of Play and Masking in Older Women’s Lives Careen Mackay Yarnal, Deborah Kerstetter, Garry Chick, and Susan Hutchinson

10

Conceptualising a Pedagogy of Play: International Perspectives from Theory, Policy and Practice. Elizabeth Wood

113 131

144

166

Index

191

Contributors

193

Foreword James Johnson Series Editor

This 8th volume of the Play & Culture Studies series, From Children to Red Hatters®: Diverse Images and Issues of Play, is a welcomed addition to the series and makes a timely contribution to The Association for the Study of Play (TASP). The Association for the Study of Play began in 1974 as an organization devoted to scholarship and research on play. We have met for our annual conference once every year since in different cities across the United States, as well as in Canada and Europe. First generation members of TASP have aged and matured, and along with the younger generation of TASPians, we remain committed to the serious (and at the same time, playful) pursuit of the Holy Grail of the organization: a better understanding of what play is, what play does, and what play means. Our most recent conference was held in April of 2007 at the Strong National Museum of Play, in Rochester, New York. As part of a working relationship, the museum will serve as a permanent archive for TASP’s publications, documents, and research artifacts. During the conference, Brian Sutton-Smith, professor emeritus at the University of Pennsylvania and one of the founders of TASP, was awarded the first “Brian Sutton-Smith Career Achievement Award” by The Association for the Study of Play. Professor Sutton-Smith was also named the first Play Scholar-in-Residence at the Strong National Museum of Play. Brian continues to be an inspiration and role model for TASPians (and thespians) everywhere and in future years other play scholars will be honored by receiving this award in his name. As with the previous volumes in the Play & Culture Series, the chapters in this book are in many ways quite different from one another. In fact, some readers may wonder how they all come together in a single volume. One answer is that the heterogeneity of this text reflects the multidisciplinary nature of TASP itself. We are a diverse group of scholars who have persisted over vii

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Foreword

time and who seek to build on our efforts to have a fuller and richer knowledge base and conceptual understanding of play. We believe that play is most important to civilization and evolution, and that great strides may be made in the 21st century for probing its mysteries and significance across life courses, cultures, and historical periods. Play is complex and elusive and slippery to get our minds around; it plays with us constantly and often annoyingly. Our only chance for studying it properly is to approach it from many disciplinary angles using varied empirical, descriptive, and theoretical research tools. We must use the varied lenses of our intellectual trades. Accordingly, many different academic guilds in today’s institutions of academic learning, and other cultural entities such as museums and institutes, study play by subjecting it to disciplined inquiry of one sort or another. As evidenced in this volume, play can be studied with philosophical and analytical methods, the tools of historical inquiry, biological and neuro-scientific methods, quantitative and qualitative research models, and the methods of the social and behavioral sciences. A common element among scholars of play is an open-minded interest and appreciation of each other’s perspectives. There is also a belief that by coming together to understand play the effort by the entire group produces a vastly superior result than any research effort performed in isolation. We are not afraid of the enormous challenge of studying play because we do this together, realizing that the subject far exceeds the capacity of one discipline to do it justice. We continuously move forward in our efforts because we recognize the importance of play in life. Although many members of The Association for the Study of Play define themselves primarily as scholars and researchers, many of us are also educators or are involved in other human service activities and therefore produce what might best be described as “outreach scholarship” on play. We are concerned about the usefulness of the study of play for child, family, and human development, and for society in general. This practical side of play scholarship can be seen in the number of chapters in this volume that pertain to education and child development. By reading this book, I hope that you are inspired to make the study of play and an advocacy for play more a part of your own life.

Acknowledgments

I would first like to thank Jim Johnson, the series editor of Play & Culture Studies, for his guidance, support, and friendship. Without his help there would not have been a volume 8. I am also indebted to Dorothy Sluss, current president of The Association for the Study of Play. She has a tolerance for endless questions that is much appreciated. I am grateful to all of the contributors to this volume both for their dedication to the study of play and also for the patience they afforded me in the process of bringing their work to press. In addition, putting this volume together would not have been possible without the work of the following reviewers who took the time to offer their judgments and suggestions. Doris Bergen-Miami University (Ohio) Jim Christie-Arizona State University Cynthia Clark-Pennsylvania State University Rhonda Clements-Manhattanville College Arleen Dodd-C. W. Post University Dana Gross-St. Olaf College Tom Henricks-Elon University Robyn Holmes-Monmouth University Joseph Loftin-Wasatch Academy Alice Meckley-Millersville University Diane Parham-University of Southern California Stuart Reifel-University of Texas, Austin Mary Rivkin-University of Maryland, Baltimore County John Sutterby-University of Texas, Brownsville Deborah Tegano-University of Tennessee ix

x

Acknowledgments

Finally, I would like to thank my wife, Leslie, for allowing the time and space needed for a project such as this one. Working alone is made tolerable when you know that someone is waiting on the other side.

Introduction David Kuschner

The act of playing is often considered to be something trivial and is sometimes dismissed as being simply ‘child’s play.’ As the articles in this eighth volume of Play & Culture Studies series demonstrate, however, play is neither reserved for only the world of children nor is it the least bit trivial. The Association for the Study of Play (TASP), through its annual conference, Play Review newsletter, and Play & Culture Studies monograph series, has worked for over thirty years to illuminate the incredible complexity of this ‘thing called play,’ and how the reasons for play and the significance of play varies across the age range, across cultures, and across species. Even the fundamental question of “what is play” remains an issue of continued discussion and debate. The articles in this eighth volume continue the tradition of a critical examination of the diverse issues of play that has been the raison d’être of both the Play & Culture Series and The Association for the Study of Play itself.

OVERVIEW OF BOOK The ten chapters of this book examine play from a variety of perspectives and disciplines (philosophy, sociology, history, child development, animal behavior) and across almost the entire age range of human development (preschoolers through adults). In the first chapter, Gwen Gordon looks at the basic issue of trying to define the concept of play and offers a possibility that not only takes into consideration the activity of children but the activity of atoms and the universe as well. Thomas Henricks then relates the concept of play to the equally complex issue of time, suggesting that the act of playing may involve not only the present but also the past and future. xi

xii

Introduction

In the third chapter, Peggy O’Neill-Wagner describes how a nursery-reared infant monkey became more playful through the fortuitous presence of some adult sheep. Looking at how historical context may influence the materials of children’s play, Eva Nwokah examines the changing nature of infant toys across a sixty-five year time span in chapter four. Harold Fishbein, D. Michael Malone, and Dolores Stegelin present the results of a study in chapter five that considers how the choice of peer playmate in the preschool environment can be influenced by such factors as race, sex, and physical attractiveness. In chapter six, Maureen Vandermaas-Peeler, Jackie Nelson, Melissa von der Heide, and Erica Kelly share the results of a study that examined how parents foster the home-based literacy and play activities of four-year-old children. Chapters seven through nine then investigate the play of older players (i.e., beyond the preschool years). In chapter seven, Michael Patte, a former elementary school teacher, presents the views of fifth grade children themselves as they consider the differences between play and work. Marianne Staempfli discusses in chapter eight how the characteristic of playfulness relates to the choice of leisure activities and extracurricular involvement among adolescents in high school. Then, in a fascinating study of adult play, Careen Yarnal, Deborah Kerstetter, Garry Chick, and Susan Hutchinson describe the ways in which the rituals and celebrations of The Red Hat Society® may be a form of play for the women involved. In the final chapter, Elizabeth Wood addresses, from an international perspective, some of the issues related to incorporating play into the school curriculum and discusses the challenges involved in any attempt to create a pedagogy based on play. As illustrated by the thoughtful presentations of our authors, play is a topic that is complex, fascinating, and multidimensional. It has been the mission of The Association for the Study of Play to champion this perspective of play. It is our hope that you will find this eighth volume of the Play & Culture Studies series a worthy contributor to this mission.

Chapter One

What is Play?: In Search of a Definition1 Gwen Gordon

The most irritating feature of play is not the perceptual incoherence, as such, but rather, that play taunts us with its inaccessibility. We feel that something is behind it all, but we do not know, or have forgotten how to see it.2

There are few subjects that have been poked and prodded at by as many disciplines as has play. Biology, psychology, education, anthropology, sociology, history, cosmology, physics, leisure studies, literary theory, art history, animal behavior, philosophy, and religious studies have all aimed their methodologies at the play phenomenon, and, like the famous blind men describing their limited section of the elephant, each discipline has come to a different conclusion about the nature of play. The various forms of entertainment examined by scholars of leisure studies seems to be in an entirely different universe from the imaginative play studied by developmental psychologists. While each discipline that studies play is searching for the truth, it inadvertently drafts the concept into the service of its own perspective at the expense of a full understanding and appreciation of play.3 For decades starting in the late 18th century, psychologists and evolutionary biologists proposed only deterministic and utilitarian definitions of play (Freud, 1959; Groos, 1898, 1901; Hall, 1906; Spencer, 1855). In 1938, the Dutch anthropologist, John Huizinga (1950) presented a radically new understanding. According to Huizinga, an activity is play if it is fully absorbing, includes elements of uncertainty, involves a sense of illusion or exaggeration, but most importantly, true play has to exist outside of ordinary life and only for its own sake. That is, even though absorbed by the activity, the player is always conscious of the fact that the play is not real and that its consequences will not affect his or her life outside the play. 1

2

Chapter One

While Huizinga’s views have been significantly modified since 1938, most contemporary researchers still agree that play is intrinsically motivated and occurs in a “space” distinct from “reality”. The tendency to narrowly circumscribe our notion of play around only those “meta-activities” that lie outside of “ordinary” life is unique to the West. In Hinduism, for example, play is an essential part of the cosmology, the play of Shakti and Shiva constituting and permeating all of existence. In such cultures, anthropologist David Handelman tells us, “Qualities of play are integral to the operation of the cosmos. To be in play is to reproduce time and again the very premises that inform the existence of this kind of cosmos” (1992, p.12). The West limits its criteria for play to specific activities and behaviors of higher animals. The worldview from which contemporary play theories have emerged does not tolerate the notion of playfulness, nor consciousness, for that matter, existing anywhere except in the minds of complex organisms. This perspective is the result of a 2,500-year battle between a pre-rational Dionysian understanding of play as the random, raw agonistic whim of the Gods, and a rational, orderly Appollonian view of play that sees it in service of evolution.4 Philosopher Mihai Spariosu provides a brilliant rendering of the interplay of these two schools of thought throughout Western history in his book Dionysus Reborn, warning that, though many philosophers have tried, we cannot have it both ways. Dionysus and Apollo will never play nicely together (Spariosu, 1989). But just as recent discoveries in physics have revealed a secret alliance between chaos and order from the broader perspective of complexity science, we might also find rational and pre-rational perspectives reconciled from a broader trans-rational perspective. Like play itself, a trans-rational perspective dwells in paradox. It is not, as one might suppose, a thinly veiled rational Hegelian synthesis, but the recognition of the validity of both non-rational and rational worldviews simultaneously. If, as scientific materialism, an outgrowth of the rational perspective asserts, the universe is made of dead matter, then it cannot be playful. Playfulness requires intention and therefore consciousness. But the two worldviews are not as polarized as they may seem. Although machines cannot be playful, play can be just as orderly and lawful as machines. A lawful universe, easily conceived as a machine, may actually be alive, conscious and playful. Furthermore, the fact that players may not be motivated by a goal or purpose does not preclude the possibility that play serves a larger evolutionary purpose. Through our play, we may be unwittingly and joyfully leaping into an activity critical to the perpetuation of life. In our search for a definition we are hoping to discern the laws that govern play at the deepest level and that permeate the universe as a whole. Such a

What is Play?: In Search of a Definition

3

definition will not only illuminate the play concept, but may also reveal a dimension of the cosmos that science alone cannot. For our understanding of play to encompass the full trans-rational paradox and variability of play, it must be as protean and flexible as play itself. It must articulate the structures underlying the full range of forms conventionally understood as play, including both competitive and cooperative games, solo and social play, skill based and fate based games, introverted and extroverted play, intrinsically and extrinsically motivated play, as well as rule based and rule breaking play. But it cannot stop there. It must also encompass play from the scale of atoms to that of the cosmos as a whole, without collapsing into generalities that fail to illuminate the central features that make games a special and heightened case.

DEFINING PLAY: BIOLOGICAL ROOTS As the preeminent contemporary play theorist Brian Sutton-Smith (1997) warns us, an absolute definition for play at the level of cosmology and physics can never be proven scientifically. And so we are searching instead for the metaphors that will open our imaginations to the full depth and breadth of the play concept. Sutton-Smith finds that the dynamics that give rise to the enormous variability of play are rooted in the biological processes that generate the same kind of variability in nature. He cites the work of evolution biologist Stephen Jay Gould, who claims that evolution is determined by adaptive variability, characterized by “sloppiness, broad potential, quirkiness, unpredictability, and, above all, massive redundancy. The key is flexibility, not admirable precision” (Sutton-Smith, 1997, p. 221). Sutton-Smith finds a correspondence between the characteristics of play and each of Gould’s principles, stating that “if quirkiness, redundancy, and flexibility are keys to evolution, then finding play to be itself quirky, redundant, and flexible certainly suggests that play may have a similar biological base” (Sutton-Smith, 1997, p. 222). Sutton-Smith points to another biological correlation between the high potentiality with which play begins and that which distinguishes the early stages of the development of the human brain. Play as novel adaptation corresponds to the evolutionary process itself. He defines play as a facsimilization of the “struggle for survival.” This “facsimilization,” claims Sutton-Smith, “increases the organism’s variability in the face of rigidifications” (p. 223). While these correlations between play and fundamental biological processes do a great service in broadening our appreciation of play, they are both too vague and too restricted to provide a full appreciation of play.

4

Chapter One

Adaptive variability may be a product of play, but we then wonder what transpires in play that creates this variability. In addition, Sutton-Smith limits play to the behavior of “higher animals.” Rather than seeing mammalian play as derivative of core evolutionary processes, perhaps it is an extension of these processes. Instead of a “survival strategy,” animal play may be the articulation and enhancement of the play that exists at the core of reality and human play may be its hominization, not its facsimilization. Enacting the fundamental dynamics of existence certainly is conducive to survival but that does not necessarily mean it is a survival strategy any more than growth or communication is.

THE PLAYFULNESS OF PLAY We need a deeper understanding of play to account for its evolutionary nature and one that sheds light on the sense of freedom and delight; in other words, the sheer playfulness of play when play is at its best. Susanna Millar (1968), in her classic The Psychology of Play, suggests that “perhaps play is best used as an adverb; not as a name of a class of activities, nor as distinguished by the accompanying mood, but to describe how and under what conditions an action is performed” (p. 21). This is not to project the capacity for attitude or intention onto subatomic particles, but to apply the insights we gain by understanding playfulness to the universe as a whole. What’s central to playfulness, says Millar, is “an attitude of throwing off constraint” (p. 21). These constraints might be physical, emotional, social, or intellectual. Play detaches messages, experiences, or objects from their context of origin, creating a new frame that allows for greater freedom, interactivity, and creative possibilities. When we throw off the constraints of a given context, we are free to move, to engage with new contexts as well as to engage the context of our recent experience as an object of play. Much work on play characterizes it as a set of features that shift the frame of activity from one domain to another through the meta-message that “this is play” (Bateson, 1955; Stewart, 1989). Generally this is meant as the shift from reality to a new play-specific space/time with its own rules of procedure. Playfulness is the attitude that makes this shift possible. By bracketing experience, it enables us to step outside of and manipulate interpretive frames from the perspective of another frame. There is a distinct intention that accompanies positive forms of playfulness. We certainly know it when we see it—a lightness of heart, a glint in the eye, alertness, enthusiasm, and readiness for surprise. There is a sense of involvement and detachment, self-expression and self-transcendence, individuality

What is Play?: In Search of a Definition

5

and cooperation. Boundaries become fluid, defenses dissolve, and physical, emotional, or mental movement becomes spontaneous, expanded, and coordinated. The considerable research on playfulness tells us that the traits of the playful include physical, cognitive, and social spontaneity, manifest joy, and a sense of humor (Barnett, 1998; Fein & Kinney, 1994; Lieberman 1965, 1966; Singer, 1999). Playfulness carries the presence, flexibility, and openness needed to improvise with and expand the stream of possibilities as they emerge in each moment.5

PLAY AND FREEDOM Freedom is a hallmark of play. While the concept of freedom has a divergent and contradictory philosophical history, however it is understood, it remains a condition for play. As boundaries soften, not only does adaptive variability and potentiation increase, the parts of the player become coordinated into spontaneous action. The autonomy of the parts is balanced by their integration with the play community. Playfulness entails spontaneous free harmonious movement within and among the parts of the player, whether the player is a chimpanzee, an amoeba, or a symphony orchestra. For “higher animals,” playfulness entails spontaneous free movement within and among the parts of the self, integrated in relation to the whole. It is the freedom of the total self to move as a whole in relationship to the total environment. As theater luminary Viola Spolin (1963) explains, In spontaneity, personal freedom is released, and the total person, physically, intellectually, and intuitively, is awakened. This causes enough excitation for the student to transcend himself or herself—he or she is freed to go out into the environment, to explore, adventure, and face all dangers unafraid . . . Every part of the person functions together as a working unit, one small organic whole within the larger organic whole of the agreed environment which is the game structure. (p. 11)

Spolin thus captures the main elements of playfulness: its spontaneity, participation, intimacy, delight, flexibility, freedom, risk, and harmonious relationship of the parts with the whole. No part came into existence in isolation. Its very nature and function emerged in a context, an ecology or playground. The health of the part is intimately related to the health of the whole just as the health of the body is based on the health of the organs. For a part to be healthy, it must be free to express its nature. The full and healthy interaction between parts prevents one part from dominating and/or suppressing others. Spontaneity arises when the

6

Chapter One

parts throw off the constraints both internally and externally that separate and suppress their interactions with each other and their external environment. BOUNDARY PLAY AND TRANSFORMATION Play’s impulse toward both freedom and connection makes transformations possible. The transformations of play occur through interactions across boundaries in the back and forth movement of encounter and exchange that characterizes most of life, but which is heightened in play. Philosopher James Hans (1981) offers a description of play derived from Martin Heidegger’s hermeneutic circle that builds on this theme. Along with Gadamer, Hans tells us that the key move of the player is the leap out of the conventional frame of the self. The full absorption of a player in the play loosens the burden of being a discrete subject split from object and in this “ecstatic self-forgetfulness” or self-transcendence both “subject” and “object” are inevitably changed. The players integrate these transformations in ways that expand and further their differentiation so they can once again act on and open into the playground. Both the players and the playground, the parts and the whole, are transformed, that is to say further differentiated and integrated through the communion of play. Hans’ assertion raises many important questions: While play is generally characterized by the players’ full absorption in the activity, is it quite the metaphysical salve healing the subject/object split that Hans suggests? Does the subject have to dissolve entirely into the play for play to occur? What is the nature of the relationship among players? How is the absorption of play different from that of work or survival strategies? These questions suggest that there may be a more complex dynamic at work/play between the parts and the whole than for which Hans’ model accounts. In his classic work, The Act of Creation, Arthur Koestler explores the nature of the creative act in ways that shed light on this dynamic (1964). He sees the central activity of creativity to be the meeting of previously separated associative frames and calls this encounter bisociation. According to Koestler, there are three ways in which bisociation can occur, each with a different effect. Associative frames can collide as in the case of comedy. They can temporarily unite in an aesthetic experience as they do with art. Or they can fit together into a new, more comprehensive frame as they do with scientific discovery. According to Koestler, each mode of boundary play expresses a different relationship between the parts and the whole. In the comedic mode, the part asserts itself over the whole with a laugh. Aesthetic innovation, on the other hand, is a self-transcending encounter between frames that creates a deep par-

What is Play?: In Search of a Definition

7

ticipation of the part with the whole such that the unity of the whole is revealed to the part (even if the part takes credit for the artwork). In scientific discovery, the “aha!” or “Eureka!” of discovery is part-centered, while the integration of the new knowledge affirms a new level of coherence between the parts and the whole. The bisociative act depends in various degrees on unconscious processes and imaginative leaps beyond the boundaries of routine thought. Bisociation, as Koestler defines it, is fundamental to play. Mammalian play bisociates between everyday life and the play space, whereas simpler forms of play bisociate solely between physical frames or, as Hans would call them, “centers of play.” Play, then, involves the dance between parts and the whole where the part can assert itself over the whole (e.g., comedy), the whole can assert itself over the part (e.g., aesthetics), or the part and whole can strike a balance—a creative tension (e.g., scientific discover). Play in its best moments serves to transform both the parts and the whole in a participatory embrace that enacts new worlds and creates new boundaries and play spaces. In its worst moments, the player assimilates the world to fit into their developmental frame in ways that not only reduce the complexity of the world but also violate the subjectivity of other players. This play doesn’t actually bisociate, but rather it absorbs objects into a single associative frame that serves the narcissistic needs of the player. Piaget (1962), the Swiss psychologist and one of the first theorists to explore childhood play, wrote extensively about this assimilative function of play in children. THE PLAY LEAP Since Plato first observed children and animals playing, the “leap” has been the central metaphor used to describe play. The image emphasizes the sense of exuberance and freedom at the center of play as well as its boundary crossing nature. We leap out of constraints in order to obtain freedom, we leap for joy to celebrate achieving freedom, and we leap across frames because we are free to explore. This exploratory drive is as fundamental to “higher animals” as the survival instinct (Koestler, 1964). In fact, play is defined in the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 3rd Edition (1992) as the ability “to move or operate freely in a bounded space.” Most play is characterized as a particular kind of leap across boundaries into and between new frames, or to and fro between opposites. We even talk metaphorically about the play of opposites. The space found in-between poles is the playground. The psychologist D.W. Winnicott (1971), in his classic work, Playing and Reality, characterizes play in humans as the vital connection between self and world that involves full imaginative engagement between inner and outer life. Inhabiting this

8

Chapter One

in-between space of play, which he calls the potential or transitional space is, according to Winnicott, the source of all creativity and health. We cannot leap without a place to land. There would be no levity without gravity, no freedom without boundaries. The play leap is not merely the escape from bondage, but as Hans (1981) suggests, the freedom to participate fully in, to transform and be transformed by the world. In this way play is far from being a break from reality, but is the nature of reality itself in constant transformative engagement with itself. When we play we feel the intrinsic joy and vitality of participating in reality on its own terms, instead of trying to control and manipulate it to serve our needs. This participation may or may not give rise to innovations (it may just be a good romp) but it always generates more potential for play. TOWARDS A DEFINITION As our exploration illustrates, play has many irreducible features, some of which have been highlighted by different theorists. In light of this, a rich and full understanding of play needs to consider the quirkiness, redundancies, and flexibility that lead to adaptive variability and high potentiation. It needs to consider the to and fro movement of the hermeneutic circle in which the center of play is absorbed in the field of play and both are transformed. It must consider the nature of bisociative encounters, which are either partcentered, whole centered, or balanced between the two. It must appreciate the “in between” play space in which play encounters take place. It must also consider the inviting, attentive, disarming attitude of playfulness, the intrinsic pleasure, as well as the freedom and cooperation essential to play. Rolling all these conditions together, we might begin to define play. Play is the voluntary movement across boundaries, opening with total absorption into a highly flexible field, releasing tension in ways that are pleasurable, exposing players to the unexpected, and making transformation possible. Transformations occur as frames bisociate and the parts and the whole interpenetrate, increasing the differentiation of the part, the integration of the whole, and the range, coordination, and spontaneity of movement between and among them.

TESTING THE DEFINITION Because our definition describes the mechanics of play and the relationship between players and playground, parts and the whole, we can easily test its veracity at many different scales. Let us consider a few examples:

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• Atomic play—The paradox and potentiation of play, its flexibility and fluidity exist at the center of every atom. Each electron bisociates as both particle and wave and is influenced by the larger field of the observer (integration) to manifest in a particular location (differentiation). • Biological play—The crossing of boundaries in sexual play is the bisociation of organisms, producing a new organism (differentiation) that combines traits of both parents (integration). • “Higher Animal” play—The social play of mammals and some birds bisociates between the frames of what an action represents and the metacognition that it is play (i.e. a play fight is both a fight and not a fight). Animals become fully absorbed in their play, exercising spontaneous and varied responses to unexpected stimuli (differentiation), while cooperating with, and staying attuned to, the rhythms, pain thresholds, and play styles of the playmates (integration). Developing flexibility and coordination in the face of surprise, increases the possibility for further play. (Spinka, Newberry, & Beckoff, 2001) • Psychological play. A painting is inspired by the interpenetration and bisociation of the outer and inner worlds of the artist uniting in an aesthetic experience (integration), through which the actual and the possible also bisociate. The artwork manifests through the manipulation of the paint, directed by the artist’s subjectivity (differentiation). A painting, like any symbol, bisociates between the object of art as symbol and the meaning it evokes. • Cultural play. The celebration of a religious holiday bisociates between everyday reality and the sacred, as well as between the individual and community. It gathers community to perform ritual symbolic acts (bisociation) for the personal and universal/spiritual to interpenetrate, thus affirming the shared stories and meaning of community (differentiation) within the larger universe (integration). • Cosmic play. Chaos and order are the fundamental frames that bisociate and generate novelty throughout the cosmos. Chaos breaks open the boundaries created by order so that frames spill into and bisociate with one another. A supernova explosion generates new molecules (differentiation), which make new forms (planets, life, etc.) possible, furthering the whole (integration). The “to and fro” movement of destruction and creation, attraction and aversion, contraction and expansion, rest and activity, structure and energy, is at the heart of cosmic play. With this definition, we retain much of the understanding that contemporary researchers have had regarding play’s absorbing, voluntary, and pleasurable nature. However, unlike the conventional understanding we do not

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define play to be outside of “real life” nor to be of purposeless intent. Instead, play is central to “real life,” even if it does provide a break for “higher players” from the habits and rigidities of ordinary consciousness. It is also highly purposeful, though usually not toward any explicit goals held by the players. Play’s purpose is to generate more possibilities for play. This definition of play and the examples we use might also be true for the creative process in general. However, the essential difference between creativity and play is that, while creativity produces artifacts, play produces possibilities. Play makes creativity possible while creativity manifests possibility into actuality. In other words, while creativity is based on play, play is not necessarily creative. Most games, for instance, entail far more redundancy than creativity. Children seem to enact the same make-believe tea party, or vengeful monster scenes endlessly. It is, however, often from redundancy that novelty (eventually) emerges.

WHAT PLAY ISN’T The most immediately distinctive feature of play is the freedom it expresses, its spontaneity, the bracketing of frames or contexts, and the agreements and cooperation among playmates. Play stops when participants are not free to not play, become objects of play, or are unaware that they are involved in play. War, violent crime, and practical jokes may be play for the perpetrators, but not for the victims. In this case the consensual nature of play is lacking. What might be a playmate is instead an object of play. Here we start to see the need for a developmental model for adult play that can account for the capacity for inter-subjectivity as a function of maturity and increasing play capacity. For now, we need only understand that if we are not free to play or not play, we are not playing. So, how do we understand those who play violently with those who are not free to play? If they are having a good time with their objects of play, are they still playing? As Piaget pointed out the object play of a child, even if it involves torture from the perspective of the “object” (e.g. a cat) is no less a case of play than a game of checkers. Different play forms correspond to different developmental stages. In early object play, the play can be very destructive, even deadly if the object happens to be alive. We know from Piaget’s research that as the child develops, both the capacity for empathy and identification with others and their objectivity toward themselves and others increases. As a result, the play becomes more social and complex. Here we can see how the young (or undeveloped part) might not be in harmonious relationship to the whole in its free play, and that it is

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the responsibility of the other parts (a.k.a. parents) to provide feedback that supports the development of the part toward harmony with the whole. The tension that exists between parts as they develop generates evolutionary play. A good example is the predator/prey relationship between the hawk and the field mouse. As the hawk becomes a better hunter, the field mouse becomes faster. The parts and the whole, whether organs in a body or individuals in a community, are in a constant process of ongoing development in and through the hermeneutic circle of play. Play, as defined here, is both an instigator and an epiphenomenon of ongoing transformations and development in the parts and the whole. The freedom of play is absent in any activity that has become rigid, unconscious, habitual, or compulsive, even if it started out as play. We often see this with television watching, video game playing, gambling, or drug use. We also see it with the repetitive regressive “play” of trauma survivors, which is either the routinized reenactments of the trauma or the play of the developmental stage arrested when the trauma occurred. The restless play of the forty yearold “eternal youth” is less an expression of the freedom associated with youth than the resistance to playing at increasing levels of development and complexity. The “kidults” or “rejuveniles,” who visit Disneyland regularly, collect Care Bears, and attend children’s concerts may be asserting their freedom by casting off the constraints of a work-obsessed culture. But they may also be holding onto the forms of play of an earlier stage of development, which was never played out. Play does not have to disappear with adulthood. It only diminishes when we resist adulthood and confuse our development with the increase in seriousness instead of the increase in dimensions of play. The focus on accomplishing immediate instrumental objectives also blocks play. An activity stops being play when it is driven by goals and inhibited by the fear of real life consequences. With all these examples, the freedom of play is lacking. Play occurs when the player is free from compulsion and free to risk all the insults and injuries of full participation, such as losing, failing, and making a fool of him or herself.

A COSMOS AT PLAY Play is integral to an evolving cosmos. After all, no change can occur without the crossing of boundaries and the opening of players and playground to mutual influence. And, while some of these boundary crossings may appear rigidly rule-bound and mechanical, especially at the atomic, chemical, molecular, and genetic level, the degree of freedom, spontaneity, and playfulness increases with the increase in the complexity of the organism. The forms of

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play evolve in complexity in tandem with the forms at play. What we think of as playfulness in animals is actually the articulation and enhancement of the intrinsic playfulness of the cosmos. Since this is, indeed, a rule-bound universe, as within any game, the play ensues within the rules. If the rules and order become too restrictive, trickster chaos stirs things up, disrupting the status quo, and revitalizing the play. Play requires both boundaries (order) and the impulse to cross them (chaos). When chaos and order are balanced we find highly sensitive, flexible, cosmic erogenous zones filled with exquisite play—dynamic spiral galaxies that give birth to planets in which all the conditions conducive to life become a kind of evolutionary play bow to which life responds by bursting into a billion forms of play. By deepening our understanding of play, we hope to not only expand our vision of the cosmos, but also provide the basis for understanding the transformative powers of play at all scales of the universe.

NOTES 1. Many of the ideas expressed in this article were stimulated and developed through the rich conversations I had with my colleague and friend, Sean EsbjornHargens. 2. Robert Fagen, as cited by Sutton-Smith, 1997, p. 2. 3. Brian Sutton-Smith elaborates on the worldviews behind each play theory in his book, The ambiguity of play (Sutton-Smith, 1997). 4. The pre-rational play concept was articulated initially in Pre-Hellenic Greece and revived by such philosophers as Friedrich Nietszche, Martin Heidegger, and Hans Georg Gadamer. The rational play concept was articulated first by Plato, and then later taken up by Kant, Schiller, Spencer, Groos, and Bateson. It is the predominant view. 5. Sue Walden, founder of ImprovWorks, teaches that the fundamental elements of play are presence, openness, and flexibility.

REFERENCES American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (3rd ed.). (1992). Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Barnett, L.A. (1998). The adaptive powers of being playful. In M.C. Duncan, G. Chick, & A. Aycock (Eds.), Play and Culture Studies, Volume 1 (pp. 97–119). Greenwich, CT: Ablex Publishing Corporation. Bateson, G. (1955). A theory of play and fantasy. Psychiatric Research Report, 2, 39–51.

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Fein, G., & Kinney, P. (1994). He’s a nice alligator: Observations on the affective organization of pretense. In A. Slade & D. Wolf (Eds.), Children at Play: Clinical and developmental studies of play (pp. 188–204). New York: Oxford University Press. Freud, S. 1959. Beyond the pleasure principle. (J. Strachey, Trans.). New York: Bantam Books. Groos, K. (1898). The play of animals. New York: Appleton. Groos, K. (1901). The play of man. New York: Appleton. Hall, G.S. (1906). Youth: Its education, regimen and hygiene. New York: Appleton. Handelman, D. (1992). Passages to play: Paradox and process. Play and Culture 5(1), 1–19. Hans, J. S. (1981). The play of the world. Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press. Huizinga, J. (1950). Homo Ludens: A study of the play-element in culture. Boston: Beacon Press. Koestler, A. (1964). The act of creation. New York: Penguin Books. Lieberman, J.N. (1965). Playfulness and divergent thinking: an investigation of their relationship at the kindergarten level. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 107, 219–24. Lieberman, J.N. (1966) Playfulness: An attempt to conceptualize a quality of play and of the player. Psychological Reports, 19(3), 1278. Millar, S. (1968). The psychology of play. Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books. Piaget, J. (1962). Play, dreams, and imitation in childhood. New York: Norton. Singer, D.G. (1999). Imagination, play and television. In J.A. Singer & P. Salovey (Eds.), At play in the fields of consciousness (pp. 302–326) Mahway, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Spariosu, M.I., (1989). Dionysus Reborn: Play and the aesthetic dimension in modern philosophical and scientific discourse. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Spencer, H. (1855). Principles of psychology. New York: Appleton. Spinka, M., Newberry, R. C., & Beckoff, M. (2001). Mammalian play: Training for the unexpected. The Quarterly Review of Biology, 76(2), 141–168. Spolin, V. (1963). Improvisation for the theater: A handbook of teaching and directing techniques. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Stewart, S. (1989). Nonsense: Aspects of intertextuality in folklore and literature. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Sutton-Smith, B. (1997). The ambiguity of play. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Winnicott, D. W. (1971). Playing and reality. New York: Routledge.

Chapter Two

Play and the Rhetorics of Time: Progress, Regression, and the Meanings of the Present Thomas S. Henricks

As many scholars have emphasized (e.g., Ellis, 1973; Levy, 1978; Millar, 1968; Sutton-Smith, 1997), there are numerous ways to think about play. With equal justice, play can be considered a style of individual behavior, a pattern of relationship, a cultural form for activity, or a special type of experience (Henricks, 1999). Competitive play can be distinguished from cooperative or communal forms. Spontaneous, novelty-seeking behaviors are surely different from formal, carefully organized ones. Activities emphasizing mental calculation can be contrasted with those involving physical exertion or dependence on fate. And the settings or scenes of play vary widely. Daydreaming and other forms of private fantasy seem different from puns or boxing matches or musical improvisation or games of tag or creative exploration in science or bets cast at the casino or track. In some ways, humans play differently than animals. And adult play is frequently distinguished from the exploits of the young. Not surprisingly, there are also numerous theories accounting for why people play. For his part, Sutton-Smith (1997) has gathered many of these into seven different “rhetorics” or ideologies, explanations—complete with guiding assumptions and action commitments—of what play is or should be. Such rhetorics include the view of play as a vehicle for youthful “progress,” as the tempting of fate, and as the exaltation of power. Other rhetorics emphasize play as the opportunity to experience social identity, to explore the limits of the imagination, to construct the self, and to dive into foolishness and frivolity. Such approaches exist as relatively independent islands in the field of play studies, hard-won territories that are defended by those who operate within their borders.

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In this essay, I argue that there is yet another way in which to conceptualize play—as a showcase for the different meanings of time. More specifically, it is claimed that play has been thought to be a preparation for the future, a revisiting of the past, and an effort to remain precariously in the present. That is, for some scholars play is a going ahead; for others it is a going backwards. And for others yet, it is—to use Erikson’s phrase, a “step sideward into another reality” (Erikson, 1963, p. 222). In that light, the following pages describe the implications of these quite different views and offer reasons why certain categories of scholars might favor one approach rather than another. The human ability to cast the imagination in different directions is sometimes described by anthropologists as the capacity for “displacement” (see Friedl and Pfeiffer, 1977, p. 258). In that sense, it is argued that the vast majority of animal species operate primarily within the concrete, sensuous moments of the present. Although animals direct their behaviors in complicated ways, these schemas are frequently well-established responses to the needs of their bodies or to external challenges framed by sense experience. While animal play—like that of humans—represents a special break with some of the ongoing necessities of life, the play of animals typically mimics or adumbrates on skills that seem useful for survival (see Bekhoff and Byers, 1998; Power, 2000). More than other creatures, humans are thought to be able to “raise their heads up” out of the context of daily existence. People routinely contemplate—and communicate about—the past. Alternately, they develop elaborate visions of the future. Even within the present, they effectively stop time. Through what is usually termed “reflexive consciousness,” people can somehow pause to inspect their own actions and experiences. This ability (however partial) to step back or displace oneself from a host of existential demands is one of the hallmarks of the human condition. Even more strikingly, people are able to imagine things that never were and never will be. In that context, human play should be understood as one of the special places for the conjuring of possibility. The literary critic Kenneth Burke (1968) described the human ability to stop and oppose the world within the terms of his theory of the “negative.” In that light, people not only can say “no” or otherwise reverse their actions and understandings; they can also invent worlds that derive from these negations. For the student of play however, what is important is that players do much more than say “no.” They also say, “yes” to patterns of being that are both new and old. Play then is not merely a process of standing apart but also an attempt to re-enter the contexts of life in special ways. As noted above, such contexts include our understandings of time.

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PLAY AS PROGRESS In his The Ambiguity of Play, Sutton-Smith (1997) develops well the viewpoint that play is a moving forward or reaching upward to challenges of greater complexity. What he terms the “rhetoric of progress” is the broader set of arguments and assumptions linking play with human (and animal) development. By such lights, play is a vehicle for skills development. By exploring possibilities of every sort, players hone abilities that are useful in a wide range of contexts, including those from a still unimagined future. Not surprisingly, proponents of the progress rhetoric emphasize the significance of play for those who have a large proportion of their lives still ahead of them—that is, those who are young. Sutton-Smith traces this approach to eighteenth century beliefs about the power of rationality and the possibilities for social progress. In this new view of history, human beings were thought to play a transformative, directive role. Structures that were once considered God-given could be disassembled and then built anew. The world, or so it was thought, followed an internal logic that could be discovered and then applied in myriad ways. That this process might be competitive and ever changing was a theme developed in the following century in the doctrine of evolution. In any case, history was now understood to have a direction that, at least in retrospect, is knowable. Moreover, human capabilities were thought to be both the agencies and the results of these vast social and cultural changes. In that context, play—for writers like Schiller (1965) and Froebel (1887)—is the way in which people prepare themselves for the future. Although Huizinga (1955) in Homo Ludens was preoccupied with the role of play in societal change, the more general setting for the progress rhetoric has been individual development. In that light, textbooks in academic psychology (e.g., Feldman, 1994; Jolley and Mitchell, 1995) have connected play to a view of growth that features invariant and qualitatively different “stages” of development. Such stages are typically cumulative, in that later ones build off earlier levels. Furthermore, later stages are thought to be more complex, rationally controlled, and abstract. Indeed, human development itself is sometimes equated to the creation and maintenance of personal schemas that feature increasing degrees of integration and control. Certainly, growth is easiest to see at a physical level, where creatures become bigger and stronger and capable of a wider range of skills. At some point—indeed at precisely the stages of life where progress theorists find themselves no longer interested in play—these capabilities seem to stabilize and then degrade. More subtle and difficult to measure have been patterns of cognitive, moral, and socio-emotional development as well as forms of self-recognition. In

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Piaget’s (1954) famous theory, children tend to move from thinking processes centered in concrete, sensuous experiences toward the development and application of more formal, abstract patterns of reasoning. Similarly, Kohlberg’s (1969) theory of moral development emphasizes how children shift from very egocentric modes (that is, pleasure/pain calculations) toward more “universalistic,” abstract patterns of reasoning. Though different in many ways, Erikson’s (1963) view of socio-emotional development again follows a format in which people move from very narrow, self-centered concerns to (ultimately) questions about one’s contribution to others and the integration of life experiences. Finally, Mead’s (1934) theory of self-development shows how children acquire wider and more abstract conceptions of themselves as objects in the world. In each case, the ambition of children is seemingly to become “big,” i.e., to develop a range of comprehensions and powers that can be applied in ever widening sets of circumstances. In such ways we aspire to be not really human at all but something more akin to Mr. Spock, the half-Vulcan from the “Star Trek” television series, who uses logic to rule his own latent feelings and the “Vulcan nerve pinch” to control those who need stiffer forms of correction. As both Schiller and Froebel argued then (see Sutton-Smith, 1997, p. 131– 132), play—of the proper sort—has a kind of civilizing function. Stimulated by their own curiosity, and with a little help from guiding adults, children seek challenges of ever deepening complexity. “Baby stuff” is abandoned for the challenges of older life. Creativity and discovery prevail. The new is valued over the old; and novel patterns that seem useful are practiced and refined. This sorting out of useful schemas is the centerpiece of Piaget’s (1962) theory of play. In general terms then, the “play as progress” rhetoric tends to focus on play as an instrument, an activity that helps us accomplish bigger, better, and more important things. Indeed, children’s play is seen frequently as their “work,” something they do that parallels the more consequential activities of adults. This curious work-play combination has its own codes. When a parent sends a child out to play, the latter is expected to be active and constructive. Running about in a game of “tag,” engaging in role-play or pretense with others, and building something out of handy materials are all acceptable forms of play. Quietly watching the birds, lolling under a tree, or even reading a book is not enough. Furthermore, deviant and destructive behaviors—like making another child cry, tormenting animals, or stealing things—are not considered to be species of true play but rather perverse and harmful aberrations. In the adult view, children at play should be bees and beavers, energetically constructing the foundations of their lives. To a large extent, the play-as-progress rhetoric is an authority figure’s view of play. Children’s play should be rationally controlled, constructive, socially

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appropriate, and useful. It should civilize rather than de-civilize. It should be creative and pursue novelty; but judgments about what is creative and novel may rest with the authority figures themselves. Indeed, it is frequently the case that the novel elements are tests or challenges set forth by these guiding teachers, parents and older siblings. In that light, a recent volume in this present series featured a set of articles debating whether Vygotsky’s theories of child development feature truly playful interaction or simply the impositions of adults upon their willful charges (Lytle, 2003). Taken together, this set of ideas makes children’s play ripe fruit for a functionalist approach. In the social and behavioral sciences, functionalism (see Merton, 1957) attempts to explain human activity in terms of its consequences for other, established patterns or structures. Sometimes these consequences are intended by the actors themselves, sometimes they are not. Furthermore, these consequences may be open and obvious (i.e. “manifest”) or they may be “latent” (i.e., hidden entirely from all but the most acute observer). Moreover, functionalist explanations tend to emphasize the way in which behavioral regularities are constituent elements of larger patterns defined as “systems.” These systems (conceived as bounded, equilibrating sets of interdependent units) operate at the personal, social, cultural, organismic, and environmental levels (see Parsons, 1971). In such ways, the smaller, more fluid patterns of the world are contained and even instigated by more stable, wider frameworks. In functionalism, stability trumps change; fluidity surrenders to order; the small acknowledges the great. In the play-as-progress rhetoric then, it is not enough that people find pleasure in their activity. Children and young animals must play for a reason. That reason must be found in the deeper structures of the organism or psyche or in powerful patterns of social organization. Building and sustaining these frameworks is the real business of play. In that light, the little moments of our lives are merely adaptations to what is more enduring and essential. For such reasons perhaps, Piaget ultimately subordinated playful assimilation—the ego-centered testing of schemes and strategies—to the need for accommodation to a world that is greater and more complicated than we can imagine (see Sutton-Smith, 1966). Functionalist theories in general are criticized for their relative inability to explain processes of change or novelty (see Turner, 1978). Instead, system coherence and stability are key themes; routine behaviors are fitted to wider webs of practice. Indeed, change itself is often seen as an attempt to reorder or rebalance relationships after significant external elements have been introduced into a system. Alternately, changes within one system may be occasioned by changes within the wider systems of which it is a part. Thus, species must adjust to the changing conditions of their environment

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or to new configurations of the food chain. In such ways, an adaptationist philosophy prevails. Somewhat differently from the above viewpoint, the play-as-progress approach emphasizes novelty-seeking, rational choice, and self-determination. Players do not merely adjust to existing frameworks; they actively push ahead into new territories. In other words, the play-as-progress rhetoric is preoccupied with the future—or rather with the thousand unknown futures lying just beyond the present. End-products (be they skills, understandings, or artifacts) are somehow more important than the experience itself. Moreover, all the wonderful new things that players find are ordered quickly enough into hierarchies of greater and lesser utility. In that light, play is commonly an exercise in self-instruction. From the vantage point of our own psyche, we judge some activities, experiences, and products to be satisfying or valuable. These we repeat or refine; others we discard. Probably just as frequently, other people determine the worthiness of the event. These other players or even non-players control the directions of the activity. At its conclusion, they declare the whole affair a success or failure and explain its “lessons” to us. To discuss the matter in such terms is to emphasize how individual expression and creativity is “bounded” by existing patterns of personhood and social structure. We locate ourselves in configurations conceived by others. Childhood is, to a large extent, a process of discovering what older people already know, of assuming the duties of new (but only to us) spots within existing social arrangements. Thus, players grope their way into a future that has already been prepared. It should not be surprising that the play-as-progress rhetoric finds its most willing adherents among those who are dedicated to the development of worthy futures for young children. Scholars in human development, clinical psychology, social work, and education are committed to personal and public improvement (see for example, Bruner, Jolly, and Silva, 1976; Johnson, Christie, and Yawkey, 1987). Children’s development of intellectual, moral, emotional, and social skills is a tremendously important matter. Lessons in self-mastery and managed creativity learned at early ages presumably lead to more consequential forms of control and creativity later on. Some of these lessons are self-directed or peer-directed affairs. Many others are guided by authority figures. It is no criticism of such research to say that it tends to see the consequences or outcomes of play as more important than the pleasures of the moment. Games of tag end, rhymes and stories waft away, sandcastles collapse. Such events are thought to be elements of what is more enduring and transcendent—the construction of healthy bodies, worthy friendships, and a wide range of cognitive and communicative skills. That adults should assist or promote these processes seems hardly a crime.

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Having said that, a few criticisms should be acknowledged. Like play research in general, this approach tends to assume that “play” is somehow equivalent to any occasion where people express themselves emotionally or creatively. Although it is not anticipated here that readers will agree on any particular definition of play, it is important that scholars specify which aspects of play seem to produce which effects. For example, self-directed activities (or aspects of activities) may differ in their consequences from ones controlled by peers, authority figures, or subordinates. Furthermore, work-like play (focusing on creative projects and end-states) may be different in its effects from ritualistic play (focusing on conformity to rules and frameworks). Even more difficult perhaps is the challenge to demonstrate that play activities (however defined) are clearly more valuable to certain forms of human development than non-play activities. And of course, the seeming disinterest of such scholars in older people’s play is puzzling. Is development really something that ceases at a certain stage of life? Perhaps the wisest judgment is still Sutton-Smith’s view that this is only one way of seeing play. An interest in rationally controlled, creatively focused play is entirely appropriate. And people have the right to declare some forms of play more socially and personally useful than others. Arguably, the effort of adults to instigate, manage, and comment upon children’s play does not “ruin” it. There is indeed a sense in which play can be comprehended as an enjoyable species of work. In such ways, the play-as-progress viewpoint partakes of a historically middle-class sensibility. The world—and our places within in—can be improved. Forms of individual expression and pleasure seeking are not simply escapes from duty but rather legitimate, even necessary, attempts to build the future.

PLAY AS REGRESSION Quite different, if not entirely opposite, is the view that play is a reaching backward into the past, a return to established schemas and settings. Some of these past schemas are still in use. In such cases, play is less an act of creativity or exploration than an adventure in familiarity (see Lieberman, 1977, p. 7). However, other aspects of the past are clearly discontinuous or hidden from us. In these latter circumstances, play is perhaps better understood as an act of re-discovery or remembrance, an attempt to reclaim what is nearly gone. Between these two conceptions of the past—that is, as continuous and discontinuous—is yet another sense in which the past appears suddenly and unpredictably in our lives and then disappears. On such occasions, people find themselves experiencing old feelings or shouting out

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words and phrases from their childhoods. Perhaps play in this latter case is an attempt to call such feelings out of hiding or to capture and control them when they do appear? Clearly, every person’s relationship to past events and attributes is a complicated one, and play can be understood as a confrontation with these themes. As children frequently itch to become adults, so adults sometimes aspire to be young. On the way to the Association for the Study of Play conference where this paper was presented, I sat amidst some middle-aged businessmen who were headed for a ski vacation in Colorado. After a few drinks the fellows began throwing peanuts at one another across the aisle of the plane, inventing silly nicknames for themselves, and poking one particular flight attendant (an attractive woman in her twenties) with drink stirrers as she passed. Because some of the men did not know each well, they seemed intent on bonding quickly and intimately, of entering together a World of the Lost Boys. On the surface at least, the flight attendant was the perfect Wendy, taking their antics entirely in her stride and allowing them to bask in her mock reproofs. Perhaps because the perpetrators were upper-middle class men—or perhaps because of the “emotion management” strategies of the flight attendant (see Hochschild, 1983)—other passengers on the plane seemed curiously accepting of the whole affair. This straining toward adolescence was comprehensible to every adult observer and stayed just close enough to the boundaries of civilized behavior to occasion no public complaints. Of course, returning to former roles and schemas may take different shapes and emotional tones. Adventures in frivolity (see Sutton-Smith, 1997, pp 201–213) may be replaced by returns that are darker or more haunted (see Spariosu, 1989). Some of these activities are spontaneous affairs, moments we “fall into”; others are more calculating and focused. And the reasons we return are diverse. For example, entering older patterns or settings may be merely an expressive project, an attempt to re-experience what has been. In that light, who of us has not gone back to the settings of his or her youth, picked up the old toys and artifacts, and mimicked the expressions and moves that were once so vital? Indeed, some of us have even looked up old mates to see whether that group can still generate the magic of bygone days. In such cases, our “displacement” is an attempt to remember or savor. Alternately, we treat the past as an instrument, something to be used in current endeavors. In that sense, the past exists like arrows in a quiver. We reach behind us for these weapons because we rely on tried-and-true procedures and because we must use those skills to keep them sharp. Moreover, this employment is important for personal and social reasons. We need to know that we can use these strategies at a moment’s notice; and our public identity depends on others knowing this as well. In such cases, play drifts toward

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display. Kings and queens must remind everyone that they have lost none of their powers. In most general terms then, play is a performative event, an occasion when all of us get to reveal (quite selectively) the cards in our hands and then play them in ways that demonstrate our capabilities (see Goffman, 1969; Turner, 1974). Much different is a desire to deny the past or to react against it. In such cases, play is an assertion of more recently acquired powers and identities, an attempt to stamp out or block from consciousness earlier weaknesses and stigmas. After all, moving forward with a new identity commonly entails taking a few steps backwards, confronting and dismantling old patterns so that we can begin anew. However, the desire to return may be much less radical or emotionally charged than this. Perhaps play is only a chance to embroider or edit former events. In such a context, play is a sort of do-over, a time to rework past skills and understandings from the vantage point of the present. To consider these matters is to ask whether human beings go backward as actively as they move ahead. Although play-as-progress theorists stress the desire of people to advance to stages that are more complicated, abstract, and impersonal, the play-as-regression viewpoint suggests that we long equally for the concrete, sensuous, and simple. People return to past states so that they can move on with new levels of clarity and emotional resolve. Alternately, they look into the future so that they can return, and somehow remake, the past. Human development, it seems, is a two-way street. In that context, play is just as much an effort to re-familiarize ourselves with former patterns, as it is an attempt to de-familiarize that world, to make it bright and new. The arguments and examples presented above have pictured regression as a conscious strategy that people employ. However, our movements backward are sometimes fretful or obsessive acts, or even blunders. On these latter occasions, the past is less the destination of our desires than it is their origin or cause. For as the play-as-progress rhetoric is driven to explain play by its effects, so play-as-regression theory is tantalized by the idea that play is instead the product of well-established forces. At times, we can see clearly how these former skills, settings, and memories are taking us in, and we appreciate the opportunity to pause and manipulate them. On other occasions, they seem like things that happen to us unconsciously and we are almost entirely within their grasp before we begin to struggle. To my mind, play is so critically important to human experience because it is a showcase of reflexive consciousness, that opportunity to step back a little from the stream of life and then re-direct one’s efforts. However, rational consciousness has its limits. “Reality” is filled with forms and forces of every type and only the smallest numbers of these ever become objects of conscious awareness. Thus, a Piagetian emphasis on the calculating, controlling aspects of play must be

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balanced by a perspective in which players are simultaneously in and out of control, straining to recognize and respond to the patterns and processes that swirl around them. In my view, the best treatments of play-as-regression are found within the Freudian tradition (see Levy, 1978, pp. 95–104; Slade and Wolf, 1994). Although psychoanalysis is a therapeutic approach helping people move ahead with their lives, it accomplishes this end by asking them to move backwards, to reconsider past experiences and commitments as these influence present behaviors. In that light, the Freudian view of “stages” of development is distinctive. Although we build our lives upon previous understandings that are more sensuous, concrete, and simple at their bases, we do not discard these patterns as we rush to maturity. The resolutions we have made with key issues from our childhoods (and for Erikson, from later life as well) remain as working procedures for the years that remain. Sometimes, we do not resolve these issues very well and become “fixated” on them. However, in more general ways, our desire to regress to earlier events and resolutions (to solidify memory or to loosen, modify, and destroy it) is as complicated as human imagination itself. To a large extent then, psychoanalysis is a project of return, a practice of disconnecting and re-connecting old attachments. And, as Levi-Strauss (1967, pp. 181–201) emphasized, it accomplishes these ends through acts of story telling. Like religious converts, we acquire a new sight that simultaneously enfolds old ways and opens up new possibilities. Central to the psychoanalytic viewpoint is the idea that the past is not dormant but lives actively within us and cannot easily be controlled. Old patterns of conception and emotional connection are only partly rational in their foundations. The human psyche is a meeting place of the organic and the symbolic. Becoming consciously aware of psychological processes is difficult enough; framing (and then controlling) those processes intellectually is harder still. In the Freudian tradition then, the past expresses itself or even erupts (in sometimes embarrassing ways) into the present. Unresolved issues, desires, and strategies come tumbling out. As Freud (1938) emphasized in his discussion of jokes and slips of the tongue, we frequently betray ourselves through unguarded banter. In that light, humor is not uncommonly a chance to evade some of society’s (and our own) standards of moral and intellectual propriety. Comments served up in clever, abstract, and “sublimated” ways allow us to express some of our feelings at the same time that they let us deny (again to ourselves as well as to others) that we meant quite what we said. Whether these jokes and slips are “caused” (by various energies or forces welling up within us) or are instead occasions where we feel permission to escape normal censoring processes is a debatable matter.

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For the sociologist of course, regressive play occurs within forms of social permission. In that light, play events entail publicly acknowledged frameworks that allow us to rework existing strategies, experience old feelings, and solidify what we know. In that light, I have explored elsewhere the meanings of spectator sports as forms of personal, social, and moral regression (Henricks, 1988). Although sports experiences may well be vehicles for personal development (i.e., ways to learn new skills, strategies, and identities), they are for many others pleasant and reassuring forms of return. For example, with regard to socio-emotional issues that Erikson stressed, sports focus especially on the industry-inferiority tension of youthful life. That is, in the peer-based events of the sporting world (settings in which relationships are unsettled and competitively structured), players develop and demonstrate the skills pertinent to “success” and social regard. Moving up a level in Erikson’s scheme, sports also allow people to work on identity issues, to clarify whom they join and whom they oppose. Although it would be easy enough to argue that sports also address even simpler matters of trust, autonomy, and other forms of personal expression, it would be rather difficult to claim that the real challenges of adulthood—building deep and abiding relationships with others, giving back to the community that has sponsored your development, or integrating the deepest meanings of life—are “on the table” in sports. Thus, what is for younger people an entry into a fresh and stimulating array of experiences becomes for older ones a sort of return that reaffirms and reinvigorates. Through their sweaty physicality, sports return us to some of the foundational matters of personal experience. These concrete, intimate connections between people remain important at every stage of life. However, the carefully contrived expressions of the sporting world should not be confused with the complexities and responsibilities that older life entails. Much the same can be said of the moral, and the more generally social, character of sport. In Kohlberg’s terms, sport explores fairly conventional— and at the higher levels, oddly pre-conventional—views of morality. That is, in the sporting world rules are largely artifices, standing agreements that have no compelling rationales or consequences beyond the settings in question. “Sportsmanship” means following these rules, even when they work against one’s interests. When the guardianship of the rules is turned over to officials, players may be released from some of these moral structures and allow themselves to cheat or do whatever else it takes to avoid being caught in rule-violation. Recognizing the importance of group norms and controlling egoistic impulses again are profoundly important matters in human development. Games help us explore the different modalities (and consequences) of moral behavior. However, abiding by game rules is not equivalent to the higher challenge of morality—that is, to thinking about what kinds of rules

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might assist the widest communities of people and then committing ourselves to their implementation. Instead, sport freezes people in thoroughly artificial (and commonly silly) frameworks that reconcile participants to a partisan worldview. To inquire too deeply into these frameworks is to be deemed a troublemaker or “spoilsport.” To analyze the social form of sports—or indeed many categories of play events—is to reach a similar conclusion. As Huizinga (1955, pp. 1–27) emphasized, play activities frequently are set away from the messy complexities and consequences of routine affairs. For the most part, participants leave their external statuses and obligations at the edge of the playground. Those rights and responsibilities have no bearing here. Players experience feelings of control—of being able to start the action and then to stop or redirect it. This ability to pause and dissect social action is also encouraged by the above-mentioned rules. Rules help people restrict their field of vision; that vision includes a definition of the appropriate ends of action. In play, people focus on goals that are specific to the event itself or even on their own sensations. In such ways, sports provide a distinctive format for social participation. They lead people out of thoroughly egocentric schemas into a world of fascinating challenges. However, life is not a game and the simplified, bounded patterns found in games should not be substituted wholesale for other forms of human connection. To emphasize the regressive aspects of sport or play in the above fashion is not to criticize these activities but merely to clarify the point that people enter the playground with different motives and backgrounds. A game of pitchand-catch between a parent and child is a quite different experience for each. Initially, the child builds his or her skills under the watchful eye of the adult. As the years go by and the skill levels of the participants change, that experience shifts. At some point, it is the child who favors or “humors” the parent by playing. Deep into the life course, the adult player confronts what he can and cannot do. Ultimately, people play “catch” with their memories, with the thousand games and relationships that precede the current version. In the play-as-regression viewpoint then, play is less an act of creation than of re-creation. Put differently, play is a sort of inhabiting of form, a re-entry into established patterns and practices. Thus, just as play-as-progress smacks of work, so play-as-regression has a ritualistic quality. Our return then is a kind of reorientation, a process of adjusting our new self-concept to the people and places we have been. Like our enquiries into the future, regressive acts are not idle ventures. Players who retreat to Freud’s “primary process thinking” or Piaget’s “concrete-operational” or even “sensory-motor” modes do so because those elements are foundational to human existence. Indeed, some of the great theories of play have acknowledged these themes. For Karl Groos (1901), play

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was a “recreation of the instincts,” a playing out of the possibilities that lie deep within the structures of the organism. Likewise, G. Stanley Hall (1906) saw play as an act of “recapitulation,” a working through of the earlier forms of being that led our species to its current station. As we are creators, so also are we creatures—products of a past that we inhabit and only partly control. Since play studies in general has championed ideas of freedom and rational control, any picture of players’ being subservient to non-rational forces or otherwise helplessly “in play” is not generally appealing. Certainly, regression is sometimes thought to be a return to our darker, primitive, or carnal selves. If play-as-progress is considered to be a civilizing process, then play-asregression can be associated with de-civilizing impulses. For Huizinga (1955, pp. 205–206), some of these returns were depicted as a perverted childishness or “puerilism”; for Veblen (1953, pp. 164–182) they were vestiges of a decadent “barbarism.” However, such views are really only moral colorings we place upon the past itself or on the propriety of trying to resuscitate those models. Just as earlier times in history can be pictured alternately as romantic idylls or as periods of shameful ignorance and barbarism, so childhood can be viewed as a time of wondrous innocence or bratty self-absorption. How we interpret people’s movements backward—or ahead—is framed by such viewpoints. As a theoretical approach, play-as-regression is problematic in other ways as well. The very notion of the “past” as a psychological or experiential reality is difficult to address scientifically. That is, once experienced, past events endure only as artifacts. We can “remember” past occasions, talk about them with others, and look at old videos, diaries, and news clippings. We can revisit the settings of our youth and ponder the items found therein. However, always we return from the vantage point of the present; the past can only be written in a way that makes sense to us now (see Berger, 1963). Furthermore, regression theory is less about the direct impact of the past upon current behavior (e.g., the results of having acquired so many toys or beatings as a child) than it is about the project of returning to and reworking those memories. Not surprisingly then, regression theory tends to have a flavor that is more literary than scientific. Like historians, psychotherapists are storytellers who try to make clear who people have been so that they can re-interpret their current predicaments. However, the relationship of such myth making to the actual “facts” of bygone days is extremely difficult to explain. Even within the Freudian tradition, there is debate about the “universal” meanings of events or symbols, the degree to which development is “determined,” the role of bodily awareness and sexuality, the status of unconscious processes, the possibilities for continued development, and so forth. That is, although there is some sense in which events (and people’s life histories) fall into general patterns, each story is strikingly unique and open to multiple interpretations.

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Finally, it must be emphasized again that the continuous past (that we keep with us) is rather different than the discontinuous past (that slips away even as we try to hold it). The continuous past carries us forward with a kind of momentum, while more distant elements lie inert and forgotten. Perhaps it is too much to expect that possessions in the warehouse of memory should have uniform meanings or be equally accessible. Still, regression theory seems united by the view that the past is important and intriguing, and that one returns there because something valuable may be found. Who might be drawn to such a viewpoint? Certainly, scholars who analyze adults (by definition, people who have extensively developed pasts and the collection of possessions associated with those times) seem to be better candidates than scholars who analyze young children. Beyond that, people of any age who have had traumas or other powerful emotional events may need to re-work past moments. Although these experiences may be negative, that unhappy condition is not a requirement. A pleasant past can also be emotionally powerful. A nostalgic return to a version of those times (commonly ridded of their more problematic elements) is intriguing and fun in the very ways that play requires. Moreover, groups or societies frequently evoke the past to settle their affairs. For example, high status or powerful groups may return to the past to celebrate the people and events that produced their current stations. Such groups wish to “idealize” reality by reaffirming and displaying those models. For such reasons, their play activities tend to be heavy with ritual (see Henricks, 1991). Alternately, poor or disadvantaged groups may see the past—and especially the continuous past—as something to overcome. In that case, past models are set up as targets to mock, invert, or destroy (Handelman, 1990; Turner, 1969). Such views of the past as alive and potent are carried forward by those academic disciplines that specialize in past affairs. Focusing on the histories and traditions of individuals and groups is of course the business of history, folklore, anthropology, classical studies, and psychoanalysis. Myths and rituals—and their more playful variants—are vehicles that keep the past operative in contemporary life. Playful regression is a kind of consultation with the emotional, moral, and intellectual implications of these matters, an attempt to energize or make new the achievements of the past.

THE MEANINGS OF THE PRESENT To this point, the reader has been presented with two visions of play. In the play-as-progress rhetoric, play is pictured as a hunt for new forms and sensations, a peering into future possibilities. In the play-as-regression rhetoric,

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play is a looking backward, an attempt to clean up or refurbish what has been. In my view, people of all ages operate in both modes. Everyone is fascinated by both the old and by the new, and a good part of the playful project is turning the old into the new and vice versa. To state this more formally, players commonly transform time just as they transform other sorts of meanings. However, it may also be argued that play is about neither the past nor the future but solely about the present. That proposition will be considered in this concluding section. As has been claimed above, much of the charm of play derives from the players’ sense of limitation. Typically, the goals of play are meaningful only in that setting, and consequences are restricted customarily to the space-time frame of the event itself. Similarly, the satisfactions of the players are fleeting matters that have little status in the outside world. This quality of “boundedness” is also occasioned by curiously configured play spaces and equipment, special costumes, and arcane rules (see Huizinga, 1955). Participants (and observers) are expected to adopt an appropriate set of attitudes and manners and to refrain from introducing certain kinds of issues (such as serious health, job, or relationship concerns) into the setting. As Goffman (1974) emphasizes, play is a comprehensible social frame or “key”; most of us know well what it means to “play” with others and we willingly adapt ourselves to those forms. Such a view may seem to contradict the idea that play is the great repository of human freedom. However, by accepting the formal requirements of the playground, people are able both to focus their efforts more efficiently and to cooperate with one another. In other words, a unifying framework allows players to take on specified forms and forces much more precisely and to communicate those experiences to others. Accepting the forms of the play setting also means rejecting some of the forms of the outside world. Playing is not the same as worshipping or working or loving; those latter forms must be set aside. Included in those forms are certain commitments to time. As I have argued elsewhere (see Henricks, 2006), workers tend to focus on end-products and therefore gear themselves to the future; by contrast, ritualists look to the past for their models and satisfactions. To play is frequently to disregard or even to defy some of these commitments. Players are entranced by the goals and satisfactions of the moment. In the case of formally organized games, these moments can be dragged out for a few hours but even then the meanings of such activities are relatively contained. Scholars who have sought justifications for play typically look deep into the past and future—toward more enduring social and personal forms—for their rationales. However, play is profoundly an entry into short-range thinking and feeling. The ability of players to effectively

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stop the ongoing processes of the world and to reconfigure these processes as limited “events” is one of the hallmarks of the human condition. As Huizinga (1955, pp. 1–4) argued then, play requires no justifications or apologies. Play is a thing unto itself, a rebellion of the moment against longer-term patterns and commitments. This rebellion is also a declaration that experience matters. Indeed, play differs from many other activities in that the experience of the participants is intimately related to the direction of the action. Although players may well conform themselves to the social and cultural rules and forms, the truly playful moments are those in which they impose themselves on objects and patterns or even “de-form” them. In that sense, experience is a kind of touchstone for what happens. In the purest forms of play, participants try out their strategies on the world, see how the world responds to these efforts, and then react to those responses. Whether players continue this pattern of challenge-and-response or end it is dependent on the kinds of satisfactions obtained along the way. As many writers (see, e.g., Goffman, 1961) have emphasized then, play is “tense.” This tension is equivalent to the sense that one’s position in a given situation is precarious. That is, if play is a test of “wills” between the player and the world, it is very unclear whose powers will prevail at any given instant. One “move” against the other may produce a reaction that was quite unanticipated; indeed, players frequently find themselves surprised or puzzled by the unfolding of the action. This consciousness of predicament—a sense of how internal desires and understandings are ranged against external challenges—is the heart of play. And successful play is that in which the players stayed “engaged” or “aroused,” i.e., focused strategically between the sensations of boredom or anxiety that would drive them from the play frame (see Berlyne, 1960; Csikszentmihalyi, 1975). Still, play differs from the more desperate engagements of work or war or religious ecstasy. In play, the world is held lightly or provisionally. We know we can step back before any real harm is done, and this gives us the freedom to appreciate accidents and improbabilities. Indeed, misadventure and norm-violation in play is not a problem to be corrected; it is instead considered to be “fun.” In that sense, spontaneity, surprise, laughter, and a generally light-hearted manner are themes to be promoted at the event. Even if one grants that play can be seen as a special movement of meanings within the present, any definition of the “present” remains extremely problematic. That is, should our understanding of that time period be equated with the various microseconds of experience as we move through life or should the concept include somewhat longer durations? More difficult is the notion of time itself. Should time be understood in an objectivist, clock-oriented

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way or should objects and events of every description be granted their own “times” for becoming, being, and fading away. To take an example, should a person who spends two or three hours at an exciting baseball game or party be seen as enjoying a present-oriented event—or should that same event be chopped into its own, constantly changing portions of past, present, and future? Finally, one can argue that none of us can truly escape the present. Our “participation” in the past or future is merely an egocentric fantasy, founded on our (present-time) representations or imaginings of these conditions. These difficulties having been acknowledged, it is probably safe to say that play is an occasion when people are able to impose their psychological sense of time and timeliness on activity (play in its purest sense) or alternately commit themselves to time frames built into the logic of the event (as in games). These ideas of time are different than longer-term or objectivist views and contrast with the time-logics of other events and organizations. In play then, periodicity or eventfulness reigns. Once again, this sense of eventfulness is no simple matter. The conscious awareness of players can move in many different directions. And much of the pleasure of play derives from the way in which these understandings and sensations are selected and combined. As stated above then, then there are many “movements of meaning” in the present. Some of these are described briefly below. Play as Egress At his museum of curiosities in New York, P. T. Barnum posted a series of signs saying “This way to the egress.” At the last of these, patrons pushed their way through a door and found themselves trapped outside the building. Rather than becoming angry, many of those fooled took the trick in a goodnatured way. In a nation hungry for education and self-improvement, a valuable lesson had been learned (see Wallace, 1981). In much the same fashion, play is a good-natured exit from customary rules and routines. However, as Simmel (1950) emphasized, that ordinary world is not quite left behind. Although we have now entered a new setting filled with exciting forms and possibilities, we can still see—if only in our minds—that other world. Quite selectively we incorporate certain themes (ideas, expressions, material implements, and so forth) from those former, now “external” settings into our play. Some of these terms and statuses we accept fully; others we twit or mock. Perhaps even more important is people’s sense of having escaped the rule of these other routines. It delights us to know we have gotten away, and our pleasure may be magnified by the sight of other people still trapped in ordinariness. In that sense, vacations are made more enjoyable by

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a negative perception of routine existence. And “feeling special”—for some people at least—is a consequence of escaping to a pleasure-dome where they are pampered by paid, subordinate, and uniformed others. Play as Ingress As noted above, play is commonly understood to be an activity in which people step outside routine social or personal order. In its more extreme forms, play is said to be “ecstatic,” a leaping out of one’s usual place into a new realm of relationships (see Sutton-Smith, 1997, pp. 192–197). What anthropologist Clifford Geertz (1972) called “deep play” is this sense of committing oneself fervently, even desperately, to that new reality. Sometimes, wild betting (exemplified by the Balinese cockfights that were the subject of Geertz’s essay) deepens that commitment. However, engagement is also facilitated by the special costumes, playing spaces, material implements, and playing rules described above. Moreover, as Csikszentmihalyi (1990) emphasizes, that focus may be enhanced when participants’ skill levels match well with the challenges of the environment. The effect of such matching, along with the introduction of chance elements into the game, is to make the outcome or even the course of the action unknown. This sense of surprise or confusion may be accentuated by a host of other disorienting ingredients including darkness, loud or unusual music, mysterious language, sexual excitement, and drugs. In all these ways, play entails a kind of centering. In Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) descriptions of “flow,” that centering may feature a suspension of the usual division between subject-object or self-other. Instead, a person-in-flow becomes one with the situation, acting and reacting almost without calculation. Attaining this state of awareness requires an abandonment of the complexities and commitments of regular life. Included also in that abandonment are grander or more protracted visions of space and time. Again, to say all this is only to repeat Simmel’s (1950) insight that human experience entails a continual process of discarding and entering form. Only in this way can we focus on the “contents” that matter. Play as Digression In the two accounts provided just above, play is seen as a stepping out of something (i.e., an egress) and then a stepping inward (i.e., an ingress). In either case, play seems to be something that people do willfully or decisively. However, perhaps play—or at least certain types of play—is not a fearless dive into the deepest part of the pool but is instead only a sort of

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splashing about in the shallower portions. To return to the previous metaphor, perhaps play is a stepping in and stepping out of something at the same time, a casual side-step among the different situations and statuses that normally claim our attention. This more meandering, unfocused style of play is termed here “digression.” After all, playing does not always involve entering some clearly defined play-world that is filled with regulations of every type. Nor do players always “give themselves up” wholeheartedly to these forms. Instead, many forms of play seem to feature much milder patterns of dabbling and distraction. Like Thurber’s (1971) character Walter Mitty, many of us are involved in life’s duties at one moment and then find ourselves drifting way. In Mitty’s case, the land that beckons is his own imagination, where he can play heroic roles or indulge in forbidden passions. However, such fantasy and daydreaming are only the interior versions of activities that may also include doodling, whistling, fidgeting, and other distracted mannerisms. Such devices keep us “semi-engaged,” between the pressing matters of the world and the possibility that we will wander off inappropriately. From the viewpoint of ordinary affairs, such evasions of responsibility are little acts of rebellion, passive-aggressive responses to officialdom. In that context, much of children’s play can be seen as an attempt to evade or modify adult demands. Out of the reaches of those authorities, children wander about doing one thing and then another as interest dictates. From my own remembrance, such pursuits may include all forms of fiddling, idling, and looking about. To such degrees, play is a pattern of exploration, but one without clear goals, regulations, or incentives. To qualify as play, the participant must retain some control over those activities and be committed to harmless enjoyment. However, any sense that one is doing something important or meaningful—in terms of either future or past situations—is abandoned at the outset. Play as Congress Players may well be idlers or dilettantes in the fashion described above. But only sometimes is play a solitary or imaginary pursuit. Much more commonly, play is an attempt to engage the objects, patterns, and processes of the world. In play, we bring that world close to us to see what can be done with it. This act of gathering and combining elements is termed here “congress.” At one level, such a viewpoint is reminiscent of the play-as-progress rhetoric. In both cases, play is an act of transposition and invention, a manipulation of objects to learn their properties and to test the extent of the player’s skills. We play with the world to discover its mysteries. Presumably, when we stop

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delighting in these almost endless spins of combination, we will no longer play. However, the play-as-progress viewpoint emphasizes the utility of such novelty seeking for longer-term goals and interests. By contrast, the play-ascongress viewpoint suggests that we pursue these matters simply because we are fascinated by processes of selection and combination. As Levi-Strauss (1967) emphasized, it is probably in our nature to gather elements and make oppositions, and play is the willful indulgence of those tendencies. Such acts of manipulation and combination can occur at many levels (see Henricks, 1999). Most frequently, players take on elements of the material world. Play is routinely something that is done with objects, a dialectical process of action and reaction that allows us to experience in turn our own shifting status as subjects and objects. However, play can also be a confrontation with cultural elements, such as words, symbols, ideas, and forms of behavior. When we make puns, draw designs, and invert the rules of conduct, we take license with—and make our own distinctive mark upon—these forms. Similarly, our oppositions may be focused on other persons or groups. Many games have a social element, the purpose of which is to make us re-examine or re-experience our identity in the world of others. Finally, play commonly gathers and brings to consciousness distinctive psychological elements. Often we challenge ourselves—and make ourselves change—as a result of these lines of behavior. Of course, the usual meaning of “congress” is to move “with” or to join others. My own view is that this act of moving into or embracing wider social cultural forms is perhaps understood better as “communitas” than as play (Henricks, 2006). However, most students of play accept a wide variety of public immersions—fairs, picnics, parades, parties, masquerades, reunions, spectator events, and so forth—as essentially playful in character. In any case, human activity in its real-life manifestations almost always features some acceptance of form or bonding with others. As argued above, players also embrace these objects and patterns so that that they can focus their oppositions—that is, the issues they choose to confront—more sharply. Play as Introgression A last view of present-oriented play involves the introduction of elements into a situation or pattern of behavior. As Lieberman (1977) has explained, it is frequently the case that “playful” people are able to transform an ordinary situation into play through their own teasing, probing attitude toward it. To that degree, play situations do not exist ready-made but are instead constructed on the spot by participants. For example, a party or game that seems

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plodding and dull to some can also be turned into something lively and fun by others. This “cognitive style” of the playful person in some ways resembles Piaget’s vision of players’ making the world submit to their own schemas. However, in Lieberman’s conception, the emphasis is less on the development and practicing of useful strategies than on the sheer fun and fascination of the act of playing. Clearly, play—more than most activities—depends on the willing spirit of its participants. People make play happen. Simply “going through the motions” will not do. However, this raises the question of what exactly it is that players introduce. One commonly given answer is that the most effective players are able to operate with a hypothetical sensibility, a “what if” attitude toward objects and patterns (see Sutton-Smith, 1997; Winnicott, 1971). Said differently, effective players are willing to linger in a subjunctive tense (where they drum up possibilities) and then impose those ideas on experience. Certainly, much of play is indeed a dreaming of things that never were and never will be—visions of flying elephants, dates with movie stars, and elections to the Hall of Fame. Such profound improbabilities should at least be pondered, and imaginative play is the place for doing so. However, much more play involves the actual trying out of ideas under ever varying conditions. What if I threw the ball left-handed or blindfolded or tried to toss it with my foot. . . ? What if you stood there and I stood over here. . . ? If I said the same thing with a silly accent, would you laugh? Many other activities feature similar efforts to reconstitute the world or to realign it with the visions of the maker. However, play differs from more desperate forms of discovery—efforts to find a vaccine or build a bomb or incorporate new strategies in a painting. In play, people allow themselves the pleasure of extending the hypothetical moment. The success or failure of any one strategy is less important than the process of doing something unusual and then of experiencing (often with others) the effects of that endeavor. To summarize, there are many different sources for the images, ideas, and gestures we impose upon the world. To return to the play-as-progress rhetoric, people of all ages have hopes for the future. We desire improvement even as that prospect seems unlikely. Likewise, we turn to the past for strategies and models. After all, old approaches applied to present situations can make them startlingly new. Still, when future and past dominate play, they push that experience toward the rival patterns of work and ritual. Probably, in its purest form play is a full-fledged commitment to the present, where the experiential and imaginary modes of being are allowed to mix without fear or consequence. As Sutton-Smith (1997, p. 48) explains, “play seems to have more to do with waiting than with preparing, more to do with boredom than rehearsal, more to do with keeping up one’s spirits than with depression.”

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Such a present-oriented viewpoint is not entirely satisfactory from a scientific perspective. In the sciences, concepts are expected to “work.” Developing models that describe or frame the world is only one part of the scientific process. Ideas are also meant to be explanations of what has happened in the past and then (most presumptuously) predictions of what will happen amidst the modifications of the future. Thus, the problem of a present-oriented view of play is that it remains largely a descriptive enterprise. Observers taking such an approach can describe clearly to us what seems to be going on in the act of play, and players themselves can recount their experiences in detail. Focusing on the circumstantial or experiential aspects of behavior in this way may be enough for phenomenological philosophers and litterateurs who are content to analyze the various movements of consciousness. Similarly, this approach is appealing to post-phenomenological thinkers—like the postmodernists—who see people as being trapped in a swirl of cultural and material forms and who deny the value of historical and macro-level explanations (see Hans, 1981; Henricks, 2001; Kuchler, 1994). In general, present-oriented theories of play stress the particularity of the world. To play, in that sense, is to enter a moment that is somehow different than any other that has ever been or ever will be. Every hand of cards or time at bat is fascinating in its singularity. As the play-as-progress and play-as-regression perspectives seem especially useful to scholars who study the play of children and older adults respectively, so a present-oriented approach seems especially pertinent for describing the play of younger adults. In Western cultures at least, such people are arguably in the prime of their lives. Perhaps their play is explained best not by past or future considerations but by the contemporary issues and events that swirl around them. Such people do not participate in the company softball game or late-night card party in an effort to “get better” under the supervision of a watchful coach; nor do they see these moments as occasions to recapture the glories of the past. Arguably instead, their play is an imaginative escape, an entry into formats that halt or countermand the claims of obnoxious bosses, economic uncertainty, irritating relatives, and so forth. However, it must be admitted that this willful rush into a bordered present seems characteristic of people at every stage of life. Perhaps the scholarly view of play, as Sutton-Smith (1997) emphasizes, is driven more by ideological suppositions about identities and proclivities of children and adults than by the actual factors that influence moment-to-moment occurrences. At any rate, for most scholars, a present-oriented view of play—as an event of short-range experiences and contemporary repercussions—is not enough. Indeed, despite all of Huizinga’s admonitions, most of us still long to know the “appeal” or significance of play for more enduring patterns and processes. To that degree, we live in the shadows of a utilitarian age.

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REFERENCES Bekoff, M., & Byers, J. (1998). Animal play: Evolutionary, comparative, and ecological perspectives. New York: Cambridge University Press. Berger, P. (1963). Invitation to sociology: A humanistic perspective. Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor. Berlyne, D. (1960). Conflict, arousal, and curiosity. New York: McGraw-Hill. Bruner, J., Jolly, A., & Silva, K. (1976). Play: Its role in development and education. New York: Penguin. Burke, K. (1968). Language as symbolic action: Essays on life, literature, and method. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1975). Beyond boredom and anxiety. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. New York: Harper and Row. Ellis, M. (1973). Why people play. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Erikson, E. (1963). Childhood and society, 2nd ed. New York: W. W. Norton and Company. Feldman, R. (1994). Essentials of psychology. New York: McGraw-Hill. Freud, S. (1938). Wit and its relation to the unconscious. In S. Freud, The basic writings of Sigmund Freud. New York: Modern Library. Friedl, J., & Pfeiffer, J. (1977). Anthropology: The study of people. New York: Harper and Row. Froebel, F. (1887). The education of man. New York: Appleton. Geertz, C. (1972). Deep play: Notes on the Balinese cockfight. Daedalus, 101: 1–28. Goffman, E. (1961). Encounters: Two studies in the sociology of interaction. Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill. Goffman, E. (1969). Strategic interaction. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Goffman, E. (1974). Frame analysis: An essay on the organization of experience. New York: Harper Colophon. Groos, K. (1901). The play of man. New York: Appleton. Hall, G. (1906). Youth. New York: Appleton. Handelman, D. (1990). Models and mirrors: Toward an anthropology of public events. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Hans, J. (1981). The play of the world. Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press. Henricks, T. (1988). Social science meets Updike: The passion for sport as personal regression. Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature. 5(2): 131–146. Henricks, T. (1991). Disputed pleasures: Sport and society in preindustrial England. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Henricks, T. (1999). Play as ascending meaning: Implications of a general model of play. In S. Reifel (Ed.), Play contexts revisited: Play and culture studies 2 (pp. 257–277). Stamford, CT: Ablex.

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Henricks, T. (2001). Play and postmodernism. In S. Reifel (Ed.), Theory in context and out: Play and culture studies 3 (pp. 51–72). Westport, CT: Ablex. Henricks, T. (2006). Play reconsidered: Sociological perspectives on human expression Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press. Hochschild, A. (1983). The managed heart: Commecialization of feeling. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Huizinga, J. (1955). Homo ludens: A study of the play element in culture. Boston: Beacon. Johnson, J., Christie, J., & Yawkey, T. (1987). Play and early childhood development. Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman. Jolley, J., & Mitchell, M. (1995). Lifespan development: A topical approach. Chicago: Brown and Benchmark. Kohlberg, L. (1969). Stages in the development of moral thought and action. New York: Holt. Kuchler, T. (1994). Post-modern gaming: Heideggar, Duchamps, Derrida. New York: Peter Lang. Levi-Strauss, C. (1967). Structural anthropology. Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor. Levy, J. (1978). Play behavior. New York: John Wiley. Lieberman, J. (1977). Playfulness: Its relationship to imagination and creativity. New York: Academic Press. Lytle, D. (2003). Play and educational theory and practice: Play and Culture Studies, volume 5. Westport, CT: Praeger. Mead, G. (1934). Mind, self, and society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Merton, R. (1957). Social theory and social structure. Glencoe, IL: The Free Press. Millar, S. (1968). The psychology of play. Baltimore: Penguin. Parsons, T. (1971). The system of modern societies. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: PrenticeHall. Piaget. J. (1954). The construction of reality in the child. New York: Basic Books. Piaget. J. (1962). Play, dreams, and imitation in childhood. New York: Norton. Power, T. (2000). Play and exploration in children and animals. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Schiller, J. (1965). On the aesthetic education of man. New York: Frederick Ungar. Simmel, G. (1950). Sociability. In K. Wolff (Ed.). The sociology of Georg Simmel (pp. 40–57). New York: Free Press. Slade, A., & Wolf, D. (Eds.). (1994). Clinical and developmental approaches to meaning and representation. New York: Oxford University Press. Spariosu, M. (1989). Dionysus reborn: Play and the aesthetic dimension in modern philosophical and scientific discourse. Ithaca: NY: Cornell University Press. Sutton-Smith, B. (1966). Piaget on play: A critique. Psychological Review, 73(1): 104–110. Sutton-Smith, B. (1997). The ambiguity of play. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Thurber, J. (1971). The Thurber carnival. New York: Penguin. Turner, J. (1978). The structure of sociological theory. Homewood, IL: Dorsey.

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Turner, V. (1969). The ritual process. Chicago: Aldine. Turner, V. (1974). Dramas, fields, and metaphors. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Veblen, T. (1953). The theory of the leisure class: An economic study of institutions. New York: Mentor Books. Wallace, I. (1981). The fabulous showman: The life and times of P.T. Barnum. New York: New American Library. Winnicott, D. (1971). Playing and reality. New York: Tavistock.

Chapter Three

The Plasticity of an Infant Monkey’s Play When Exposed to Sheep in a Novel Setting1 Peggy O’Neill-Wagner

Typically play activity begins for baby monkeys as soon as they are able to move around. Play begins as hopping or bouncing. As infant mobility and curiosity increase mothers aid their offspring by protecting them from strangers and from potentially harmful activities (Harlow, Harlow, & Hansen, 1963; Simpson, 1988; Spencer-Booth, 1968). This protective maternal inhibitory control also prevents the most immature from exhibiting many of their highly flexible, exploratory, innovative, and adaptive behavior traits (Caine & Mitchell, 1979; Meier & Devanney, 1974; Simpson, Simpson, & Howe, 1986). In higher animals plasticity of behavior and facial processing is gradually substituted for fixed and genetic behavior patterns (Frisch, 1968; Itani, 1958). From the beginning testing of the environment is of primary importance to infants as they gain agility and motor skills. Infants don’t just play to practice components of species-specific behavior, or to mimic the activities of more mature animals. They play to test their environment for feedback and as they do this they modify and refine their own behavior (Fedigan, 1972). During this process repetitious activity helps youngsters achieve a more competent and confident relationship with their environment and with playmates (Dolhinow & Bishop, 1970). Without any conscious effort then, play allows for variation and repetition of behavior, which eventually leads to familiar and functional interactions within both social and physical environments. For wild monkeys, like other wild animals, both achievements are required for survival (Caro, 1995; Palagi, Cordoni, & Tarli, 2004). This early period when plasticity and curiosity overlap allows for adaptive innovative behavior during the development of species-typical behavior and social awareness. The most important aspect of social awareness for the infant is learning to discriminate between its’ own mother and other troop 39

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members to avoid being attacked by nonkin (deWaal, 1990; Sackett, 1970; Simpson, 1988; Spencer-Booth, 1968). Often the first playful social interaction for infant macaques is with the mother. Play between infant macaques begins as early as two weeks of age (Meier & Devanney, 1974; Tartabini & Dienske, 1979). Even with the most cautious mothers energetic infants may be too active to restrain by 30 days of age (Harlow, Harlow & Hansen, 1963). It is during this earliest social investigation and play that infant monkeys must learn to distinguish individual faces for safety’s sake. Related human infant studies on the plasticity of face processing (LeGrand, Mondloch, Maurer & Brent, 2001) demonstrate the importance of early exposure for facilitation and normal development of face discrimination. Mechanisms underlying face processing by human infants involve facial exposure during the first few months of life. For studies of human infants preference bias was found to develop relative to the gender and race of the primary caregiver. Early exposure to other species was also taken into consideration. Exposure of human infants to animal faces (Barbary macaques) actually facilitated the infant’s discrimination of individual animal faces (Pascalis, et al., 2005). Would such findings apply to an infant monkey exposed primarily to human faces and a faceless lamb’s wool covered surrogate mother? Might this infants’ earliest facial exposure experiences result in a bias against his own species or would he simply mimic the behavior of mother-reared peers in the foster group? Findings of primatologists and anthropologists documenting monkey play activity in wild and captive populations agree that certain social and biological conditions favor exhibition of play behavior. A calm social context and the satisfaction of survival needs (i.e. food, shelter, and sleep) precede playful episodes (Fedigan, 1972; Loiszos, 1967). For infants, the proximity of the mother within one meter seems to satisfy the requirement for a relaxed social environment, (Meier & Devanney, 1974) as well as the security requirement for a nearby and dependable meal. Human play researchers and animal psychologists make reference to the neutralizing effects offered by less socially complex and socially demanding situations in their analyses of the desirability and functionality of play environments for human children (Barnett, 1998) and nonhuman primates (Mason, 1983). In Barnett’s study on the adaptive power of play she points out the neutralizing effects of solitary play for the reduction of stressors in contrast to the inhibiting effects social play places on anxiety reduction. She postulates that children, to manipulate a distressing environment, may actually use certain types of play. Given that the above accounts are accurate then in a perfect baby monkey world where conditions facilitate playfulness one would find, (1) a watchful

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and protective mother, (2) a stimulating physical environment to test, (3) a social environment with peers for playmates, (4) adequate social exposure to learn species-typical behaviors and to differentiate others, (5) the opportunity for solitary play to neutralize social stressors, (6) adequate access to food, shelter, and sleep, and, (7) a sense of social calm. What follows are the results of a seemingly imperfect baby monkey world and one innovative infant monkey. This anecdotal report involves one orphaned male infant rhesus monkey (Macaca mulatta) named “E.T.” as he is transitioned from a tiny laboratory nursery cage to a well-established rhesus monkey group in a spacious outdoor setting. This descriptive presentation intends to demonstrate, via a unique experience, the plasticity of one infant monkeys’ behavior when he is confronted with a novel social challenge in a novel physical environment. In the midst of the resulting stress and turmoil our subject, E.T., may have called upon his tactual and visual memory as cues to successfully respond to the encountered novelty. Hopefully this anecdotal report will offer some insight into elements of early infant exposure that create pathways to play and discovery.

LABORATORY NURSERY PROCEDURE At the time of E.T.’s birth newborn monkeys at the lab were routinely given real lambs’ wool covered surrogates in a nursery cage when natural mothering was not an option. Such covers were made of approximately one-inch wool fibers knitted through a machine washable cotton or poly backing. Such fabrics are made of washed (scoured) and processed graded wool fleece with all lanolin and impurities removed (University of Maine Extension, 1990). Real wool has important properties not available in synthetic fibers such as moisture absorption and transport, elasticity, heat conduction, and ventilation. Thus the artificial surrogate mother offered the infant something inanimate, comfortable, and dry to cling to. It was also thought to provide a sense of security and contact comfort for the infants (Harlow & Suomi, 1970; Ruppenthal, 1979). The nursery setting was designed to offer infant protection from all sources of harm by eliminating the potential dangers posed by environmental complexity and access to other monkeys. Thus, E.T. was housed alone in a standard nursery cage with access to a single wool covered surrogate. He was able to see and hear other infants housed similarly in the nursery. This type of nursery housing has been referred to as partial social deprivation because it deprives the infant of physical interaction with agemates or any other social companion (Harlow, 1969).

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CONTEXT OF THE STUDY The Monkey Troop Prior to introducing the orphaned male, E. T., the established heterogeneous troop of twelve rhesus monkeys was comprised of four adult females, two adult males, two juvenile males, two juvenile females, and two infant males. This group of twelve monkeys ranged freely within a five-acre habitat. The Outdoor Habitat The habitat included five acres of secluded countryside with open pasture and mature stands of elm and oak trees. A small cabin was provided for the research staff. Underground wells provided fresh potable water. Seasonal temperature fluctuations restricted the use of the outdoor habitat to seven months per year. Each afternoon the rhesus monkey group approached the building site where the infant’s cage was located. The monkeys typically congregated nearby as they foraged for tender shoots, buds, and insects. It was a shady place providing relief from the late afternoon sun and heat of summer. Two young ram sheep were on site to manage the grass and weeds. One lamb had brown wool the other was white. Primates and sheep foraged and rested in proximity. The only interaction was an occasional charge display toward a ram, by an adult male monkey. Sometimes this resulted in a playful head butt from the young ram. The sheep returned to grazing, as if nothing of consequence had happened. There were no injuries resulting from the butting except perhaps to a monkey’s injured pride. This group of monkeys had been sharing the habitat with sheep since they were first introduced at 22 months of age, as juveniles (O’Neill, 1989; O’Neill, Suomi & Novak, 1991). PHASES OF THE ASSIMILATION PROCESS Infant Relocation To establish opportunity for adoption by an adult female and subsequent integration into the monkey group the orphan, E.T., along with his cage and surrogate were relocated to the spacious field setting for a planned six-month period. By the time arrangements were made for the introduction he was 40 days of age. The first stage of introduction involved intensive staff support to maintain bottle-feeding schedules and transition the infant away from human contact during feedings to more independent feeding by implementing a specialized “bottle” self-feeding cage (O’Neill-Wagner, 2004).

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Reducing human contact during E.T.’s scheduled feedings when the other rhesus monkeys approached was a major challenge. The more staff tried to separate from E.T. the more determined he became to cling to them. Initially the surrogate was made available at all times to ease the initial transition period. As monkeys approached to explore him he returned to the security of his cage and his wool covered surrogate. Videotape records of the transition documented E.T.’s fear of the monkeys. His typical response began with a fear grimace (facial), which was accented by screaming (vocal), and then ended as an effort to avoid contact by either running away (locomotor) or curling up tightly in a ball (postural). Two interested rhesus females made every effort to nurture the orphan daily but his response resulted in the potential mothers retreating. The adoption process stalled. In fact, all attempts appeared to be too stressful to the infant. Yet, when the monkeys were at a distance E.T. was observed leaving the surrogate, exploring, and manipulating novel items in his new environment. Inanimate Surrogate Removal After one week, it was decided that E.T.’s access to his surrogate and cage were impeding his socialization. Thus, before terminating the fostering attempt, these items were removed and a familiar towel was offered as a substitute safe haven for him when the monkey group moved close to the infant. The monkeys would be more familiar to him by now and he might permit their grooming and nurturing attempts. To encourage his acceptance of the monkeys E.T. was offered fewer desirable places to escape. But, following these modifications there was no change. As he had previously, E.T. screamed and clung now to the familiar towel when the monkeys approached to touch him. One at a time adult females tried to calm him. They failed. On one such occasion both young rams got to their feet, approached, and hung their heads over the towel where E.T. was clutching, screaming, and struggling. The young rams took considerable time to sniff him. One lamb reclined and remained proximal to the infant while nuzzling him with his soft warm nose. This seemed to trigger a calming of E.T.’s arousal state. The tiny monkey climbed the sheep’s face and traveled to its woolly coat. Climbing and clinging led to bouncing and tumbling to the ground. This was repeated again and again until the exhausted youngster fell asleep still clutching the lamb’s wool. After this positive contact with the sheep, the infant remained proximal to them much of the time as he found refuge in their thick wool each time the resident monkeys returned (See Figure 3.1). This response toward the sheep was the same as returning to his inanimate surrogate.

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Figure 3.1. Docile ram sheep became a surrogate substitute and playground opportunity for the orphaned infant monkey.

Substitute Surrogates The sheep were highly tolerant of the playful and exuberant infant monkey and provided a sizable playground as well as a place to rest. They seemed aware of the tiny aliens’ whereabouts and avoided stepping or laying on him. E.T. was observed more often with the brown lamb but neither of the lambs was ever observed rejecting his contact or proximity. The first infant monkey-sheep social encounter, their ease of physical contact, and resulting play activity were all interpreted as progress. However, with what appeared to be a transferred attachment (Bowlby, 1969, p. 312.), from the inanimate wool covered surrogate to the very animate sheep, came a complication. The fast growing lambs had a daily migratory agenda as they grazed on the 5-acre property. Harm could come to the little monkey in the form of a hawk, or an accident and the sheep would not be running back to the office to report any such problem. In addition, E.T. would have to find his own way back to bottle-feed himself when he got hungry. Due to the uncertainties for his safety E.T. was better protected on his inanimate surrogate inside a cage than with his new traveling wool covered surrogates. The only reason E.T. was not removed from the outdoor setting at two months of age was that he quickly adjusted to scheduled access with the young sheep. During the time of the day when sheep and monkeys naturally

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came together for shade and relaxation E.T. was allowed his freedom to join them. Each day he joined them as they became available and each day he appeared to relish the opportunity to engage in repetitious climbing, bouncing, rolling and even somersaulting down their woolly coats. As his confidence and agility increased he began to venture farther from the sheep and closer to other monkeys. This exploration occurred within view of the sheep. He consistently returned to them for contact comfort, in the same way that infants return to their mothers and surrogates for reinforcement and support. It appeared that E.T. had taken advantage of a transitional opportunity, in the form of a “catch-up phase” during his developmental journey.

RECORDED OBSERVATIONS Although behavior data was not collected on E.T. prior to the transfer, data compiled on same-aged macaque infants in a variety of captive settings confirm that interactive object play and “free” activity play begin to appear at approximately 14 days of age. Social play may also appear at this time but without access to other monkeys it would not be observed in this nursery setting. In a more spacious home cage setting, play and exploration often occurs within 1 m. of the mother until 120 days of age and other types of activity play move farther than 1 m. from the mother starting as early as 40 days of age (Meier & Devanney, 1974). Cage housing for a surrogate and an infant is not typically spacious enough to make similar measurements. But, regardless of spatial availability, E.T. would be expected to return to his substitute mother regularly as a point of security, reinforcement, and contact comfort. Infants typically play on their inanimate surrogates in much the same way that they climb and bounce on their real mothers. Progress reports were written on a daily basis updating the status of the infant’s integration into the new setting. Some events were video recorded for additional reference and detail. Lengthy descriptive hand-written observations were confirmed through review of the available video recorded footage.

DISCUSSION Although well documented, the anecdotal case of a single infant monkey (n  1), when compared to more rigorous scientific methods of controlled experimentation, has inherent limitations. For example, one can only speculate about cause and effect of the events following the infant’s introduction to the outdoor field setting. Was the infant’s response appropriate and plausible

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given all conditions? After all, the end result reveals that an initial social bias for sheep, not monkeys. To better understand the specific impact of such factors as tactual exposure, visual exposure, and facial discrimination, highly refined methodology would offer more detailed comparative results using experimental groups. However, the mother-reared peer group on site might be viewed as control group worthy of some comparison. These infants had been born and raised near the sheep. They had plenty of opportunity to mimic E.T.’s innovative play sequences on the sheep, but they did not. They were never observed approaching the sheep. In fact, they were never observed approaching E.T. to play. Although adolescent and adult female rhesus monkeys approached infant E.T. for contact and eventually held him, groomed him, and carried him, his playful peer infant group did not initiate or receive play from him. Even though the sheep had not been expected to function in the fostering process, there is anecdotal documentation of similar companionships. One young orphaned baboon joined a herd of Billie goats over a period of oneyear (Henzi & MacDonald, 1986). One research study produced lasting social attachments between motherless infant monkeys and mongrel dogs (Mason & Kenney, 1974). Extensive research studies by Mason and Capitanio (1988) provide us with insights into the responses of rhesus monkeys reared on inanimate surrogates and dog surrogates in the researchers’ attempts to understand the strength and character of surrogate mother attachments. Once secure in their attachment to an inanimate surrogate object or mongrel dog, the monkey infants were boldly curious and playful with other monkeys while in the presence of the surrogate. Mason (1983) concluded from his findings that for primates the importance of having a social relationship is so profound in the absence of like species companionship that other species become suitable companions. Considering such findings it is perhaps plausible that E.T., an infant monkey from restrictive circumstances, would approach novel animate “surrogate-types” in a spirit of playfulness. None of the cited studies suggest why, in the presence of available and eager conspecifics, our infant preferred sheep as his play setting. It has been well documented that surrogate-reared monkeys incorporate their surrogates in play activity. It is plausible that the sheep had sufficient tactual likeness to E.T.’s wool covered surrogate. Child researchers have investigated similar relationships. Bowlby (1969) concluded that in the absence of the natural attachment object, a child may direct behavior to inanimate stimuli with distinctive visual and textural cues and the similar tactual criteria may also satisfy Cairns’ criteria (1966) for the transfer of attachment. The textural cues were apparent in this case, but visually the large size of the young sheep was not consistent with the surrogate size. The larger size may have been more

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suitable functionally, however, in terms of a challenging play experience for a growing infant. Perhaps these young sheep satisfied even more fundamental conditions and requirements to favor play behavior as discussed earlier. By placing the descriptive observations of E.T.’s play into condition and requirement categories, the sheep satisfied most of them. The young ram sheep were highly tolerant of the infant monkey’s companionship (a calm social context) and they provided E.T. a place to rest when they were at rest (shelter). They seemed aware of his presence and avoided stepping or laying on him (security). They also provided safe haven as a deterrent to approaching monkeys (safety). When at rest, the sheep were located within proximity to his feeder (secure closeness to food). Without data from comparative results and control groups made up of other infant monkeys, it can only be suggested these attributes along with tactual familiarity allowed E.T. a sense of abandon for his playful expression play. Although the sheep did not reciprocate in play they did provide a secure setting for ET to test and practice his skills and agility. And that is exactly what he did. Had it not been for consistent rejections by humans for companionship, E.T. most likely would have preferred utilizing humans as his transitional surrogates. After all, he experienced his earliest close-up facial exposure from humans during bottle-feeding, and perhaps also a calm social context. This may provide insight into his initial efforts in favor of staff for contact and exploration (Cairns, 1966). For E.T. the recorded observations revealed “once his surrogate was out of reach, in a state of distress, E.T. did attach to us with all his might, literally. He clung to our arms and legs and had to be peeled off.” Although thwarted by humans, E.T. did not approach the two monkey infants in the field group. These infants surely possessed a likeness to infants he observed previously in the nursery environment. But, their social context also involved novel looking adult monkeys engaged in novel vocalizing and gesturing. This was far more complex and demanding than any context in E.T.’s restricted experience. The mother-reared peers were either not bold enough, or simply not allowed to leave their mother’s clutches and approach him. Their age was not a factor. In fact, one infant was born the same day as E.T. The fact that the infants made no contact with E.T. is likely for the best. There is evidence (Harlow & Suomi, 1986) that for naïve and developmentally restricted rhesus monkeys to have successful play interaction their playmates must be younger. More sophisticated animals, even age-mates, are often unapproachable by socially deficient monkeys due to their bold assertiveness and fast pace. If bold youngsters had approached E.T. they may have scared him away. And, if in a fearful state, E.T. responded aggressively

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toward them, he may have become the target of disciplinary actions from their protective mothers. Such an interaction may have terminated the possibility of later social integration. To enter into a complex and reciprocal social play bout with peers it would be important for E.T.’s motor skills, his stamina, and his social awareness to be comparable to the potential playmates (Spinka, Newberry, & Bekoff, 2001). The sheep served as a useful playground for the previously restricted infant to acquire such physical skills. And, in this way the orphan was able to develop the competence and confidence needed to incorporate new objects, playmates, and activities while advancing his sensorimotor development (Piaget 1952). Repetitions of self-play such as reported climbing, clinging, tumbling, and sliding on the sheep all correspond to the rhythmic stereotypies which peak during infancy for neuromuscular maturation and motor skill development (Pellegrini & Smith, 1998). In addition, E.T’s rapid and intense repetition of playful behavior directly followed his surrogate separation, rejection by human staff, and fearful encounters with strange monkeys. All of these stressors culminated at the time when his discovery of a safe outlet for expression of play on the sheep began. E.T.’s subsequent explosive release of play energy is also consistent with conclusions of stress reduction as a factor influencing juvenile rhesus monkey play. In O’Neill, Bolig, Price & Suomi (1994, p. 261.), this heightened play activity is referred to” as a barometer for the psychosocial stress.” When stressed, both the solitary physical play and the secure aspects of the sheep provided E.T. an opportunity for arousal reduction (Passman, 1976). The neutralizing effects offered by less socially complex and socially demanding sheep are mindful of Barnett’s postulates (Barnett, 1998) that children use play to manipulate a distressing environment. Similarly Mason’s mongrel dogs (Mason, 1983), utilized as infant monkey surrogates, provided a neutralizing effect. Based upon Mason’s findings we would expect E.T.’s responsiveness capability with the field monkeys to be reduced based upon his restricted stimulation in the nursery. Research findings also conclude that as a source of social stimulation the inanimate surrogate is minimal, the mongrel dog is developmentally neutral (generic) while the mother monkey is complex and changing (Hansen, 1966). Given the complexity of social interaction with the field monkeys and the inherent elements of reciprocity, it is plausible that the less responsive surrogate-reared infant (E.T.) due to his partial social deprivation at the start would select a less responsive and more neutral category of companion (Capitanio, 1984,1985; Mason, 1978; Wood, Mason & Kenney, 1979). The sheep were not complex or demanding. It is reasonable then to consider that like Mason’s surrogate dogs, the sheep provided a neutralizing effect. The sheep were similarly tolerant, minimally demanding, and relaxed. These are all traits shared by mongrel dog models.

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Leuba (1955) would likely support such an explanation as a fit for his concept of optimal stimulation that explains how organisms regulate their exposure to stimulation by behaving in such a manner as to decrease stimulation when overall stimulation is high. Other plausible explanations exist for E.T.’s initial choice for sheep over his own species for companionship and play. Perhaps the sheep were approachable because of perceived aspects of both novelty and familiarity. According to Harriet Rheingold’s work (1985), familiarity provides a basis for sorting everything experienced in the world and also defines novelty. By virtue of the perceived similarity of stimuli to which the animal has been exposed in the past, new stimuli may be considered familiar. As Rheingold put it “the variable of familiarity and novelty resides not in the object but in the observing individual’s perception, which is always based upon past experience” (Rheingold, 1985, p. 4.). This point of view allows for the sheep to be categorized as familiar to E.T. due to their wooly coats, their overall relaxed state, their undemanding social nature, or a combination of these features if they were, in his eyes, similar to his surrogate. Or, perhaps it was the combination of the sheep’s novel size, animation, and color, along with their familiarity that adequately aroused the infant but did not frighten him (Piaget, 1952). Scientists from a range of research areas make reference to this period of time in early development when perceptual association, assimilation, and organization are of primary importance. Making such associations may be explained by the biological disposition of the infant monkey to form a filial attachment to any available and “more-or less” appropriate figure that fits his schema. At such a young age his “schema” was still somewhat incomplete (Mason, 1970a; 1970b; Mason, Hill, Thomsen, 1971). Patrick Bateson (1979) refers to these as animal sensitive periods of flexibility when imprinting on objects and preference formation takes place. Schneirla & Rosenblatt (1961) describe early gathering and organizing of incoming information as a mosaic of loosely joined systems. This is what Gureckis & Love (2004) refer to in human infants as formation of cognitive category clusters relative to emergence of perceptual systems and memory storage resulting in sensitivity to correlational attributes. Regardless of the descriptive system used to identify the underlying mechanisms, E.T.’s playful use of the sheep was appropriately timed for his state of readiness in his overall developmental process. Whatever cues he relied on to make the situation work on his behalf were satisfactory. Thus, when his timely discovery of the sheep took place, an explosive unleashing of play energy was released. What began as an ill-fated plan to integrate this youngster directly into the rhesus group required an unexpected side trip lasting several months to prepare him for successful adoption. By the time the two sheep were moved

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to their herd for the winter, E.T. was being successfully integrated into the monkey group where he remained and thrived socially. The name E.T conjures up all sorts of images of Steven Spielberg’s lovable and familiar alien who possessed a charming infantile image and came to earth only to “phone home” for contact with his origins in outer space when he got in over his head on earth. It certainly turned out to be the most appropriate name for our infant monkey subject who accomplished significant exploration of new worlds in his first months of life. He journeyed from a simplistic laboratory nursery cage with only a block of wood covered with fleece for a substitute mother, to a highly complex outdoor habitat engaging all of his sensory capacities just to take in the enormous amount of new information. After absorbing and processing multiple layers of novelty in his new world, this E.T. demonstrated through adaptive play what Lynn Barnett so eloquently postulates in her writings about the adaptive power of play “to manipulate a distressing environment to bring about resolution and harmony” (Barnett, 1998, p.102.). What began as perhaps a stretch of scientific imagination and humanitarian effort toward one tiny infant has hopefully contributed some added insight into the range and reach of plasticity in early primate development. In a place where youngsters become temporarily separated from the fabric of their family units and the protective constraints of the maternal safety net, there may be an opportunity to learn the value of yet unidentified and unexpected resources in the environment that can help them find their way. Perhaps in this way research focusing on companion animals as neutralizing agents for play expression in children at risk may unlock a vast and valuable opportunity to favor a satisfying play experience. It is certainly an area worthy of consideration in today’s fast paced and often stressful climate for raising children. NOTE 1. This project was supported in part by USPHS Grant MH-11870 from the National Institute of Mental Health and funds from the University of Wisconsin Graduate School. My special thanks goes to Dr. Stephen J. Suomi for making all research subjects available. And, finally thanks is extended to Vernon Pederson and the Town Council of Leeds Township, Wisconsin, for the outdoor site approval and their valued support throughout the project.

REFERENCES Barnett, L.A. (1998). The adaptive powers of being playful. In Duncan, M.C., Chick, G. & Aycock, A. (Eds.) Play and Culture Studies, Volume 1: Diversions and Divergences in Fields of Play1 (pp. 97–119). Ablex Publishing Inc., Greenwich, CT.

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Bateson, P. (1979). How do sensitive periods arise and what are they for? Animal Behaviour, 27, 470–486. Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and loss (Vol. 1): Attachment. New York: Basic Books. Caine, N.G. & Mitchell, G.D. (1979). The relationship between maternal rank and companion choice in immature macaques (Macaca mulatta & Macaca radiata). Primates, 4, 583–590. Cairns, R.B. (1966). Attachment behavior in mammals. Psychological Review, 73, 409–426. Capitanio, J.P. (1984). Early experience and social processes in rhesus macaques (Macaca mulatta): I. Dyadic social interaction. Journal of Comparative Psychology, 98, 35–44. Capitanio, J.P. (1985). Early experience and social processes in rhesus macaques (Macaca mulatta): II. Complex social interaction. Journal of Comparative Psychology, 99, 133–144. Caro, T.M. (1995), Short-term costs and correlates of play in cheetahs. Animal Behaviour, 49 (2), 333–345. deWaal, F.B.M. (1990). Do rhesus mothers suggest friends to their offspring? Primates, 31, 597–600. Dolhinow, P.J. & Bishop, N. (1970). The development of motor skills and social relationships among primates through play. In J.P. Hill (Ed.), Minnesota Symposium on Child Psychology (pp.141–201). University of Minnesota Press, Minnesota. Fedigan, L. (1972). Social and solitary play in a colony of vervet monkeys (Cercopithecus aethiops) Primates, 13(4), 347–364. Frisch, S.J. (1968). Individual behavior and intertroop variability in Japanese macaques. In P.C. Jay (Ed.), Primates (pp. 243–252). Holt, Rinehart, & Winston, New York. Gureckis, T.M. & Love, B.C. (2004). Common mechanisms in infant and adult category learning. Infancy, 5(2), 173–198. Hansen, E.W. (1966). The development of maternal and infant behavior in rhesus monkeys. Behaviour, 27, 107–149. Harlow, H.F. (1969). Age-mate or peer affectional system. In D.S. Lehrman, R.A. Hinde, & E. Shaw (Eds.), Advances in the study of behavior, Vol. 2 (pp.333–383). New York: Academic Press. Harlow, H.F., Harlow, M.K. & Hansen, E.W. (1963). The maternal affectional system of rhesus monkeys. In H.L. Rheingold (Ed.), Maternal behavior of mammals (pp. 254–281). Wiley, New York. Harlow, H.F. & Suomi, S.J. (1986). Social recovery by isolation-reared monkeys. In C.M. Mears (Ed.), From Learning to Love: The selected papers of H.F. Harlow (pp.295–304). Preager, New York. Harlow, H.F. & Suomi, S.J. (1970). The nature of love simplified. American Psychologist, 26, 161–168. Henzi, S.P. & MacDonald, A. (1986). A baboon among goats. African Wildlife, 40, 177. Itani, J. (1958). On the acquisition and propagation of a new food habit in the troop of Japanese monkeys at Takasakiyama. Primates, 1(2), 84–98.

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LeGrand, R., Mondlock, C.J., Maurer, D. & Brent, H.P. (2001). Early visual experience and face processing. Nature, 410, 890. Leuba, C. (1955). Toward some integration of learning theories: The concept of optimal stimulation. Psychological Reports. 1, 27–33. Loizos, C. (1967). Play behavior in higher primates: A review. In D. Morris (Ed.), Primate Ethology (pp.176–218). Morrison and Gibb Ltd., London and (pp. 226– 282) Aldine Publishing, Chicago. Mason, W.A. (1970a). Early deprivation in biological perspective. In V.H. Denenberg (Ed.), Education of the Infant and Young Child (pp. 25–50). New York: Academic Press. Mason, W.A. (1970 b). Information processing and experiential deprivation: A biologic perspective. In F.A. Young & D.B. Lindsley (Eds.), Early Experience and Visual Information Processing in Perceptual and Reading Disorders (pp. 302–323). Washington, D.C.: National Academy of Sciences. Mason, W.A. (1978). Social experience and primate cognitive development. In G.M. Burghardt, & M. Bekoff (Eds.), The Development of Behavior: Comparative and Evolutionary Aspects (pp. 233–251). Garland Press, New York. Mason, W.A. (1983). Dogs as monkey companions. In A.H. Katcher & A.M. Beck (Eds.), New Perspectives on our lives with companion animals (pp. 17–25). University of Pennsylvania Press. Mason, W.A. & Capitanio, J.P. (1988). Formation and expression of filial attachment in rhesus monkeys raised with living and inanimate mother substitutes. Developmental Psychobiology, 21 (5), 401–430. Mason, W.A., Hill, S.D. & Thomsen, C.E. (1971). Perceptual factors in the development of filial attachment. Proceedings 3rd International Congress of Primatology, 3, 125–133. Mason, W.A. & Kenney, M.D. (1974). Redirection of filial attachments in rhesus monkeys: Dogs as mother surrogates. Science, 183, 1209–1211. Meier, G.W. & Devanney, V.D. (1974). The ontogeny of play within a society: Preliminary analysis. American Zoologist, 14, 289–294. O’Neill, P. L. (1989). A room with a view for captive primates: Issues, goals, related research and strategies. In E. Segal (Ed.), Housing, care, and psychological well being of laboratory and captive primates (pp. 135–160). Noyes Publications. O’Neill-Wagner, P. (2004). Fostering Infants into a Semi-Free Ranging Group of Rhesus Monkeys (Macaca mulatta ) for Genetic Diversity. American Journal of Primatology, 62, (Supp. 1), 94. O’Neill-Wagner, P.L., Bolig, R., Price, C.S., Suomi, S.J. (1994). Do play activity levels tell us something about psychosocial welfare and the future of young monkeys in captive monkey groups? Communication and Cognition, 27(3), 261–272. O’Neill, P. L., Suomi, S. J., & Novak, M. (1991). Normalizing lab-reared monkey behavior with exposure to outdoor naturalistic environments. Zoo Biology, 10, 237–245. Palagi, E., Cordoni, G. & Tarli, S.M.B. (2004). Immediate and delayed benefits of play behavior: New evidence from chimpanzee (Pan troglodytes). Ethology, 110 (12), 949–962.

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Pascalis, O., Scott, L.S., Kelly, D.J., Shannon, R.W., Nicholson, E., Coleman, M., et al. (2005). Plasticity of face processing in infancy. In: The National Academy of Sciences, USA, 102 (14), 5297–5300. Passman, R.H. (1976). Arousal reducing properties of attachment objects: testing the functional limits of the security blanket relative to the mother. Developmental Psychology, 12, 468–469. Pellegrini, A.D. & Smith, P.K. (1998). Physical activity play: The nature and function of a neglected aspect of play. Child Development, 69 (3), 577–598. Piaget, J. (1952). The origins of intelligence in children. International University Press, New York. Rheingold, H.L. (1985). Development as the acquisition of familiarity. Ann. Review. Psychology, 36, 1–17. Ruppenthal, G.C. (1979). Survey of protocols for nursery-rearing infant macaques. G.C. Ruppenthal (Ed.), Nursery care of nonhuman primates (pp. 165–185). Plenum, New York. Sackett, G.P. (1970). Unlearned responses, differential rearing experiences, and the development of social attachments by rhesus monkeys. In L.A. Rosenblum (Ed.), Primate behavior. Developments in field and laboratory research, vol. 1 (pp. 111–140). New York, Academic Press. Schneirla, T.C. & Rosenblatt, J.S. (1961). Behavioral organization and genesis of the social bond in insects and mammals. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 31, 223–253. Simpson, M.J.A. (1988). How rhesus monkey mothers and infants keep in touch when infants are at risk from social companions, International Journal of Primatology, 9, 257–274. Simpson, M.J.A., Simpson, A.E. & Howe, S. (1986). Changes in the rhesus motherinfant relationship through the first 4 months of life. Animal Behaviour, 34, 1528–1539. Spencer-Booth, Y. (1968). The behavior of group companions toward rhesus monkey infants. Animal Behaviour, 16, 541–557. Spinka, M., Newberry, R.C. & Bekoff, M. (2001). Mammalian play: Training for the unexpected. The Quarterly Review of Biology, 76 (2) 141–168. Tartabini, A. & Dienske, H. (1979). Social play and rank order in rhesus monkeys (Macaca mulatta). Behavioral Processes, 4, 375–383. University of Maine Cooperative Extension (1990). Handling and marketing wool. Bulletin #2070, 1–7. Wood, B.S, Mason, W.A. & Kenney, M.D. (1979). Contrasts in visual responsiveness and emotional arousal between rhesus monkeys raised with living and those raised with inanimate substitute mothers. Journal of Comparative Physiology and Psychology, 93, 368–377.

Chapter Four

Historical Changes in Infant Toys 1865–19301 Eva E. Nwokah

There has been an increased interest in childhood history and early toys over the past fifteen years (Calvert, 1992; Cross, 1997; McClary, 1997). Although some mention of the infancy period is given in historical accounts, this is an area of childhood where the material culture and concepts of play have been less frequently addressed. Anyone who observes babies knows that their attention is easily held by objects that make noises or move, and that they can often be distracted from crying by focusing on such objects. Sutton-Smith (1986) noted that most early historical and cross-cultural studies of play make little mention of toys and no description of baby toys. Teethers, rattles and dolls may be historically the oldest children’s toys (Alberts, 1990; Haskell & Lewis, 1971) but often consisted of bells or seeds attached to a household object such as a farming tool or hairpin and had the function of keeping the infant quiet while the mother worked (Hersey, 1998). According to Cross (1997), many infant toys were originally created for the benefit of parents. Some rattles were part of cultural and religious ceremonies rather than also being primarily infant toys. The silver coral and bells rattle is an example of a multipurpose object. The coral was to help with teething, and act as a charm to keep away evil spirits. It was a status symbol for a family and also a cultural object (Calvert, 1992). We do know from paintings of infants holding toys that, for centuries, babies have been amused by rattles and objects carved for them (Hersey, 1998). The sudden increase in infant toy production at the turn of the century, the emphasis on specially manufactured toys for infants, and the emergence of the Golden Age of Toys are best explained by a multidimensional perspective involving several socio-cultural factors. The purpose of this paper is to provide a brief look at changing perspectives and advice regarding infant play, and at infant toy products from 1865 to 1930, with examples from the state of Indiana. The time period from the 54

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second half of the nineteenth century to the end of first part of the twentieth century contained some of the greatest changes in American society from parenting to technology to medicine and such changes impacted infant material culture and the way infant toys and related objects were produced and used. HISTORICAL CONTEXT From 1800 to 1860, socio-political arguments between the north and the south especially related to tariffs, taxes, slavery, and state versus federal laws grew more intense until Civil War broke out from 1861–1865 with a loss of at least 620,000 lives. During the post Civil War times (1865–1870) Congress passed a Civil Rights Act (1866); full citizenship was granted to anyone born in the US including African-Americans but excluding Native Americans (1868); and the National Women’s Suffrage Association was formed (1869). During the Industrial Era (1870–1890) there was enormous population growth in the United States. This population growth was partly due to massive immigration and almost one third of the labor force consisted of foreign workers even though they comprised only about 13% of the population. In the late 1800s, (unlike 1901–1910 when at least 70% of immigrants were men), whole families immigrated (Steinson, 1994), bringing new ideas and sometimes children’s toys or the skills to make them, from overseas. At the turn of the century, with an expansion in urban growth, there were changes in transportation, child labor and worker issues, the development of big business, environmental and public health improvements and immigration concerns. Key developments during this time included the state of Massachusetts decision to limit women’s working days to 10 hours (1874); the Civil Rights Act was created (1875); Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone (1876); the Edison Light Company was established in New York (1878) and the light-bulb was invented (1879); the first Kodak box cameras sold (1888); and Jane Addams set up Hull House, the first of many settlement houses to aid the poor (1889–90).2 Public health advances included better sewage systems, cleaner water and milk, increased health education about hygiene, and improved medical care especially for infants and young children (Cone, 1979). More infants survived longer than a few months or a year and there was increasing interest in their development and protection. The Victorian era was also the late 1800s to 1901 and was characterized by sentimentality about babies and the view of motherhood as a sacred profession (Breathnach, 1992). This overlapped with the emergence of the Progressive Era. The Progressive Era extended from about 1890 to the outbreak of World War I in 1914. This movement was called “progressivism” because it was a

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response to the excesses and political corruption of the nineteenth century and was characterized by goals for greater democracy and social justice. There was increased social concern for the less fortunate in society. The greatest reform activity occurred from 1902 to 1908. In 1904, Theodore Roosevelt was elected president and he was perceived to have a deep abiding love for children, family and home, a love that was reflected in his letters to his children (Roosevelt, 1919). Other changes during this time period that impacted families, child welfare, and national dissemination of child development knowledge included the establishment of telephone service between Chicago and New York (1892); the creation of a Department of Commerce and Labor by an Act of Congress (1903); the formation of a National Child Labor Committee (1904); the Pure Food and Drug Act and Meat Inspection Act passed by Congress (1906); and Henry Ford introduced the Model T Ford Car (1908). Child labor was of particular concern because there were many industries such as fruit picking and seafood work, including oyster shucking and shrimp picking, where only the small babies were excluded from working and children from the youngest age worked long hours.3 Improvements in child welfare with the creation of the Children’s Bureau in 1912 and legislation such as the Sheppard-Towner Act of 1921, which promoted the welfare of mothers and infants, were accompanied by an increase and change in parenting advice and theoretical views about infant rearing. Availability of infant materials and infant toys expanded. In 1914 Germany declared war on Russia and France, and Great Britain declared war on Germany. This was the outbreak of the First World War that lasted until 1918. Several social changes occurred from 1914–1930. The first woman was elected to the House of Representatives (1916); immigration required a literacy test except for Asian workers (1917) and limited quotas for the number of immigrants entering the US were introduced (1921, 1924); a deadly influenza epidemic occurred (1918); women were given constitutional voting rights (1920); the American birth control league was formed (1921); the Supreme Court declared the 19th Amendment (allowing women to vote) to be constitutional (1922); and Pittsburg had the first radio station to initiate regular radio broadcasts. The trend toward shorter working hours that began in 1920 meant there should be more time for families to spend with their children. Post World War I saw a greater emphasis on the educational value of toys, more research and writing by psychologists and pediatricians on the understanding of child development and early behavior, and increased support for the legal protection of young children. Only by considering the impact of socio-political, philosophical and technological shifts across these different time periods can we understand the dynamic process of change in the production and use of various types of

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infant toys. It is argued that a combination of these attitudinal shifts related to infant-saving and motherhood, and that the increased availability of new materials eventually resulted in a proliferation of infant toys designed for different ages. Homemade and commercially available toys varied in the degree of suitability, effectiveness and safety, but their primary purpose remained the same—to soothe, comfort, and hold attention in the early weeks and to amuse and instruct as the child grew older. In this paper, infancy is defined as the time period from birth up to age two (Fogel & Melson, 1988). Indiana is the smallest of the mid-western states. Although unique in its topography, economic development, and settlement patterns, it was similar to other mid-western states in having a history of being predominantly rural. It also experienced the same changes in public health improvement, industrialization, and agricultural/household mechanization that occurred in other midwestern states. Its history of ethnicity and immigration provide a wide range of examples of material culture and infant-rearing practices that might be found in other states. Another advantage in using Indiana as a case study is that Indianapolis, the capital and center of Indiana, has historically been called the “Crossroads of America” and still retains this title. As it became the center of automobile production, it rivaled Detroit and became a hub connecting Chicago, Louisville, Cincinnati, Columbus, and St. Louis. From 1886 until it was depleted in the 1920s, one of the world’s largest oil and natural gas deposits extended from northwestern Ohio to East Central Indiana. Indianapolis was a leading center of manufacturing and commerce and a transportation hub with increased rail, road, and canal access.4 This meant that the impact of material and ideas through communication from cities in the north such as Chicago and the east coast such as Philadelphia in the form of medical and parenting advice books, parenting magazines, catalogs and toys distributed to other states could be found in the urban and sometimes rural areas of Indiana. From 1850 to 1900 the population in Indianapolis alone soared from just over 8,000 to 169,000. As mentioned earlier, Indiana was a predominantly rural state and continued to have more of its population in agriculture than either Ohio or Illinois. In 1880, less than 20% of the population lived in a city or town with more than 2,500 people. Also, in 1880, 52% of the population engaged in agriculture. By 1900 this was 38% and by 1920, 26% (Steinson, 1994). By examining infant material culture and attitudes toward infant rearing in this state, we can better understand patterns of infant play and toys in rural areas. Such rural areas had a country “way of life” where relatives joined settled families. The children of the families intermarried and created social communities that were selfsufficient, exchanging products, labor and tools with each other. Traditional ways of thinking and behaving continued even with the later emergence of commercial farming and as many farmers became more affluent.

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Indiana was not totally homogenous. Some diversity occurred with Indiana’s early history of immigration of northern and southern settlers prior to 1865, each population bringing with them very different patterns of work cultures, language use, religion, food and pastimes that became merged together. The primary focus of early settlers was to acquire land based on the family strategy of transfer of land to children and settling children in the same neighborhood. The quality of land for farming was their primary concern (Nation, 2005). Northern Indiana was flattened by glaciers and easier to farm than the hilly south. However, Indiana was mainly settled from south to the north and settlement in the north did not begin until nearly the mid 1800s due to the northwest being swampy and the continued presence of Native Americans (Nation, 2005). New Yorkers came to Indiana via the Erie Canal and around 1850 a large number of settlers came from New England reaching the Canal by land or by sea along the Hudson River (Rose, 1991; Steinson 1994). Other early settlers came from Ohio and Pennsylvania. Upland South settlers were yeoman farmers, not slave owners, who came from eastern Kentucky, Tennessee, Western North Carolina and Virginia and were known as woodland farmers who liked southern Indiana because the terrain was similar to land they had left behind. Northwest Indiana eventually had the largest farms in Indiana and many landowners used tenants to plant their crops. The increasing wealth of farmers was one reason that the toy marketing business developed methods such as catalogs to access such populations (Greenfield, 1991). In the early twentieth century the south of Indiana still remained more rural, isolated and more attached to nineteenth century traditions, views and practices than the north (Steinson, 1994). Indiana was similar to Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa where a large number of immigrants were German (Degler, 1984). In Indiana in 1850, Germans made up half of the foreign-born population and the Irish formed the second largest group (Rose, 1991). From the 1860s, many industries in Indiana developed and the population of northern Indiana grew rapidly immediately after the Civil War and in the early 1900s as people came to work in the factories. The six largest cities in the northern part of the state accounted for more than half of the foreign-born population by the 1920s. Most were from Germany and Poland and a smaller number from Hungary, Austria, England and Russia (Madison, 1982). Many ethnic groups clung to their European heritage at least until after World War I. In Indiana, non-native born and African-American populations existed mainly in urban areas. In the mid 1800s the number of African Americans was only about 1.14% of the total population (Rose 1991). The number of foreign born in Indiana in both time periods was only 5–6%, making Indiana the least ethnically diverse in the Old Northwest. In the last half of the 1800s Indiana was for some of the popula-

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tion a place to look for farmland on the way to seeking a better life further west, and rural out-migration was common (Steinson, 1994).

REDEFINING THE CONCEPT OF A “BABY” AND THE VALUE OF “BABY TOYS” By 1865, medical practitioners and concerned citizens were worried about repopulating the United States after the Civil War. They attempted to restrict family planning through passing the Comstock law (1873) and emphasized the virtues of motherhood and infant care. An increased interest in child-care practices emerged from a shift that had started to occur in the early 1800s when children were seen less as a miniature adult in need of rescuing from original sin but a pliable and innocent human being whose upbringing would benefit from specially designed toys. The idea of infancy as a separate and important period of life was emerging (Fogel, 1991). In 1881, Dr. Abraham Jacobi organized the Pediatric Section of the American Medical Society so pediatrics was becoming a distinct branch of medicine, with neonatology later becoming a field in its own right (Cone, 1979). Ideas from educational reformers such as Friedrich Froebel in the mid 1800s included practical suggestions about infant toys and he argued that from an early age children should never be left too long on beds or in cradles without some external object to occupy them (Hewitt and Roomet, 1979). By the 1860s there was an increased sensitivity toward the loss of a child. This has been argued as part of a change in the cultural response to the death of any close family member (Zelizer, 1985). Parents began to use specially designed infant coffins and deeply mourn their loss. The rate of infant mortality was still very high but increased government, state, and local efforts at infant-saving supported a new and changing interest in the healthy development of the infant beyond the basic needs of food and clothing. Statistics on infant mortality and death rate prior to 1900 were generally unreliable but we do know that in cities like New York in 1880 the rate was 288 per 1000 live-born infants. By 1900 in the US the infant death rate in census-registered areas was 162 per 1,000 children under age one and in New York by 1900 it was down to 189 per 1,000 (Cone, 1979; MacLeod, 1998). In Indiana, in 1910 the average death rate for infants under one year of age was 106.9 per 1,000 births (Hibbs, 1915). In the late 1800s, especially during the Victorian period, middle-class and upper class women were cocooned into domesticity with no legal or financial rights and usually sheltered from outside life by their husbands.5 Poems, paintings, and stories of nursery life were written and painted and Victorian

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advice literature emphasized the importance of parents providing a loving home for their infant (Breathnach, 1992). Christenings were elaborate and interest in infant and toddler toys increased. The types of infant toys used were meant to stimulate the senses but not to overexcite the infant (Hardyment, 1983). Traditional toys were preferred, for example, loading and unloading a wagon with wooden blocks and practicing adult-like activities with a little hammer and blocks if a boy, or playing with a baby rag doll if a girl. Sitting on a rocking horse by an open window was a suitable activity for delicate children. There was a strong emphasis on the value of cleanliness and fresh air so going for walks and playing in a carriage, and using a baby walker to keep the child off the ground when old enough are examples of infant material culture that were part of the views on infant-rearing at that time. Clark (2000) suggests that children’s literature and play, shown in the early creation of books since the 1700s, reflected the gender categories that adults perceived. However, Grant (2004) discusses the socio-political changes that brought about how adults thought about gender in young children during the late 1800s. There was a critical change from early 19th century attitudes that perceived early childhood as a period of life unaffected by gender socialization. Boys and girls were dressed in similar clothing consisting of frocks and the long curls of toddlers of both sexes were considered attractive. Not only was there a strong link between clothing, toys, and related play but also qualities of tenderness, self-control and self-sacrifice were highly regarded in child behavior. Grant (2004) points out that this was not a “genderless” perspective but that for a young child, his/her identity as a “baby” was more important than gender. Little Lord Fauntleroy, first published in 1886, is a story of a noble and refined little boy who idealized the clothing and behavior admired at that time (Burnett 1981). Boyhood did not commence until a boy had his first set of pants, which was not until 5–7 years old. What changed in the late 1800s was a shift to the concept of the masculine ideal. One of the primary influences was that of G. Stanley Hall, a renowned American psychologist in the late 19th century who suggested that children’s development, especially the development of boys, mirrored that of civilization beginning with “savagery.” He proposed that mothers and teachers who inflicted ideas of niceness and ‘refineness’ on “savage” little boys had stunted their sons’ development. Hall encouraged play activities such as boxing, playing cowboys and Indians and reading adventure stories. The term “sissy” emerged out of such boy culture in the mid to late nineteenth century as a derogatory term for a boy lacking the qualities of the mythological “real boy.” The cause of such effeminate qualities was thought to be related to “smother love”—“spoiling” and over-protection during infancy and early childhood (Grant 2004).

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Another change in the focus on family and children after the Civil War was that many middle-class and upper-middle class women who were discouraged from employment became interested in reform. They volunteered to help working women and the poor. This developed during the Progressive Era (1890–1910) into a movement and many women’s charitable organizations, based on a concern for the social welfare of less fortunate, made concerted efforts at increasing infant survival through maternal education. Home visitors from such charitable groups and visiting nurses played a role in encouraging less educated mothers in the proper way to care for infants according to the views of the middle class at that time. Clement (1997) has argued that in the late 1800s there was no common culture of play just as there was no common culture of child-rearing. There was a huge variation in infant play settings from large nurseries in middle class suburban homes to playing in city streets to play in farmyards. However, in spite of differences in wealth, living conditions and time for play, there is evidence that infant toys and games were created and homemade materials were often used. Mothers who could not afford toys made baby toys out of cloth stuffed with straw and bells sewn on the corners (Hersey, 1998) or tied a handkerchief with knots to make a toy doll. Other dolls were made with apple heads or with cornhusks, for example. In the late 1800s when Indiana experienced a large influx of immigrants, they brought with them new ideas for infant toys. Sometimes these were handmade or commercial toys they brought from Europe. ABC books and nursery rhyme books are examples. Hand-made or homemade toys were also produced in the Amish community or in the rural German communities such as in Columbus, Indiana. Horses were hand-carved from wood and painted or sewn from materials like blue denim. Amish cloth dolls were dressed as an adult including a bonnet if female. These dolls were totally lacking in facial features based on the interpretation of the biblical passage from Exodus 20:4: “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness that is in heaven above” (McLary, 1993). By the 1890s many popular magazines emerged that provided advice on childrearing (Cross, 1997) so parents no longer solely relied on the family reference books and the advice of neighbors, friends and relatives. Pediatric textbooks became more easily available to doctors who shared new advice and information with the families they visited. McGreal (1988) briefly reviews advice given to parents at the turn of the century in the Ladies Home Journal. One piece of advice, for example, stated that the baby should have his/her own room on an upper floor, where the air would be purer. One piece of baby equipment advertised in the Ladies Home Journal in 1905 was a jump-up exerciser such as that sold at Dr. Martin’s Infant Exerciser Co., Indianapolis,

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Indiana that was supposed to prevent crooked legs and amuse the baby “by the hour.” Another was Glascock’s Baby Walker sold at Glascock Bros. Mfg. Co., Muncie, Indiana. The baby walker was also supposed to provide exercise where the infant could sit, stand or walk (McGreal, 1988).

INCREASED AVAILABILITY OF NEW TOY MATERIALS Table 4.1 lists infant toys that existed in Indiana during the time period 1860–1930. Many of these toys are similar to those listed as modern day toys for infants (Sutton-Smith 1986). With the invention of new materials, some of the toys remained the same type such as dolls and vehicles but were created with safer, stronger, and more attractive features. The Civil War had stimulated industrial development. Table 4.2 lists the key dates of invention of different types of toys and the materials to create those toys (Mintz, n.d.). The Industrial Era (1870–1890) resulted in the production of glass (glass eyes were used for early teddy bears), rubber (used for toy balls), tin (used in many toys from rattles to miniature cars to spinning tops), bisque and china (used for dolls), celluloid (used for infant rattles and dolls). Rubber squeak toys and rubber dolls were very popular beginning in 1850. Animal toys were popular in the 1870s and 1880s and were covered in real hide, wool or fur (O’Brien,

Table 4.1. Popular infant toys available in Indiana 1860–1930 0–6 Months

6 Months–2 Years

Rattles Teethers Rattles with teethers Rag dolls Handkerchief dolls Teddy bears Noisemakers Rubber balls Rubber animals

Balls Dolls Sit and ride toys Push and pull toys Roller chimes Noah’s Ark Whistles Rocking horse Hobby horse Miniature people/animals Alphabet blocks Miniature cars trains, trucks Steel and wooden wagons Kaleidoscope Jack in the Box Musical box Playhouse Fabric books and board books

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Table 4.2. Timeline of invention of toy materials and types of infant toys. (Adapted from Mintz (n.d.)) 1860–1880

1860 1873 1880 1893 1902 1903 1903 1910

1911/1912 1914 1915 1920

Carved wooden animals Rattles made of silver, coral Wax doll heads Handkerchief dolls Invention of rubber for balls Invention of glass for toy eyes Celluloid developed in New Jersey and used for dolls Walker rag dolls Worsted (woolen) dolls Babyland rag dolls Teddy bear Printed cloth dolls, doll cloth books Crayola crayons Tin rattles Tin push toys and spinning top White female teddy bear (not popular) Kewpie dolls (celluloid) Tinker toys Raggedy Ann dolls Celluloid rattles

1990). Young children, as they started to walk, could pull these toys behind them. Tin rattles were available by 1910. Celluloid was invented in England in 1855 and in 1880 celluloid was used for dolls (Smith, 1967). It was the first of manmade materials to gain extensive acceptance and celluloid rattles gradually became popular by the 1920s and 1930s and were sold in catalogues such as Sears (Schroeder 1973). Celluloid was a trade name for the derivative from cotton that occurred when nitric acid was added to produce a pulp-like papiermâché. After the acid was removed, the pulp partly dried and camphor gum was mixed into it. Sheet celluloid was produced when the mixture was rolled into thin sheets and put into hot cylinders to dry. It was easy to mold when hot water or steam was used to make it soft and pliable and it became hard again when cool. Although relatively cheap, celluloid was a material that was highly flammable, cracked easily and could become discolored. The faces on these rattles whether human or animal were also not always designed to be cute and were often quite ugly. Less consideration seems to have been given to the importance of visual appeal to infants. Celluloid continued to be used for many toys until the end of World War II. Changes in the materials for infant toys and the design of infant toys reflected a trend that some toys were becoming a status symbol of family

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wealth. This was noticeable with such items as the rattle, rocking horse, and dolls. During the Victorian period (1837–1901), rattles were regarded as decorative, valuable items and given to infants on Christening Day especially from wealthy relatives. This would typically be “coral bells,” consisting of a combined silver rattle and coral teething ring (Breathnach, 1992). In Victorian times, silver, silver-plate, and tin were mass-produced and easily available for those in the middle classes (Hersey, 1998). Even as late as 1910–1920, a typical teether/rattle was a mother-of-pearl ring with an attached silver bell. On Sundays, Victorian children put away everyday toys and played with special toys of a religious nature such Noah’s Ark (Breathnach, 1992). This item was one of the most popular toys of the late nineteenth century. The first toy factories emerged in the late 1800s, for example the South Bend Toy Works, in South Bend, Indiana, which was established in 1874 and incorporated in 1882. Started by a grocery clerk and a woodworker, the factory made toys for older children at first, such as croquet sets, and later children’s wagons and doll carriages were built.6

MOVING TOWARDS THE GOLDEN AGE OF INFANT TOYS: INFANT-REARING BELIEFS Between 1900 and 1920, play in the nursery was a serious concern. With an emerging middle class and by 1900 one in five women in paid employment outside the home, there was a clear demand for mass-produced and therefore reasonably priced toys. Babies born into privileged families had nannies in a nursery section of the house where they lived, ate, and slept with other children and they had new expensive toys and books. Pettigrew (1991) noted that the Edwardian years (1901–1914) are often referred to as the “Golden Age” because it was a time of greater wealth for middle and upper class families and because of a change in child-rearing attitudes. There was increased social concern for children’s welfare, society experienced economic changes and improvements in, for example, gas and electricity in homes, transport, public and personal health, education, and the opening of large stores. Part of these changes included a pronounced shift in attitudes toward children from the Victorian approach of treating children as small adults and expecting them to behave as adults to a better understanding of children’s needs. Childhood was supported as a time of innocence and joy (Pettigrew 1991). Indiana had access to many books and materials on infant rearing shipped from the east coast such as Philadelphia and New York and from northern cities like Chicago. Such informational and advice books included some suggestions on recreation for infants particularly if the topic was educational or health-related.

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Rocking, throwing up and down, or carrying the baby was ill-advised and the carriage became important. Solis-Cohen (1909), an assistant physician in Philadelphia wrote a detailed advice book for parents available throughout the US and advised against a common practice of “trotting the baby on the knee” (p. 284) believing that it could produce vomiting or other disturbances of digestion. Also prevalent was the view that the infant should not be amused all the time otherwise it would always “crave fresh pleasures and excitement” (p. 286). However, several finger games that were recommended included, “This Little Pig Went to Market;” a Thumbkin song; a finger game using nutshells or thimbles on each finger for rattling the fingers while saying a particular rhyme; and pretending the first and second finger were snails having a slow race with a related rhyme. Additional suggestions for finger play with babies were making knots in a handkerchief and placing them on the fingers; two fingers with a piece of paper wrapped around and made to dance; and making an imitation baby by painting two eyes and a mouth on the back of the hand with the hand and arm wrapped in a table napkin to look like a cloak. Finally parents were encouraged to draw faces with ink on the fingernails and make them talk and perform. At the age of five or six months, SolisCohen recommended a rubber rattle or toy noisemaker and a rubber or bright worsted doll. Fragile toys were to be avoided because the child would learn destructive habits. Parents were encouraged to put away a toy for a month that no longer interested the child and then bring it out again. Picture blocks and Noah’s Ark were very useful toys because Solis-Cohen emphasized that they instruct the child. Ride toys were built with wheels rather than rockers. And as infants were spending so much time in cribs and carriages, sometimes toy items such as rattles or other noisemakers were attached to the frames to hold the infant’s attention. Toys now had to be smooth, non-poisonous, easily washable and not likely to be swallowed. Concern about the safety of toys also emerged in advice manuals and advertisements. One advice book published in 1916, called “Baby’s Health. A practical handbook for the young mother,” was distributed to mothers in Lafayette, Indiana by a local milk depot, shoe company, and drug company even though it was published in New York. With reference to baby toys, it stated “since a baby wants to put everything in his mouth, his toys must be those that can easily be used this way. They should be washable and should have no sharp corners nor points to hurt the eyes” (p. 15). An advertisement, on the same page, for a set of baby toilet ware sold by the Arlington Co., New York (Dupont), emphasized that their rattle had no angle or corners. Intelligence, imagination, and being trained in habits of order and neatness were thought to be important functions of early play with toys (Holt cited by

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Hardyment, 1983, p.143) so parents and experts were becoming more aware of an infant’s normal development. Thus, increased information about the abilities and needs of infants influenced the types of toys produced and the type of play to be encouraged. Stern (2002) argues that the Division of Infant and Child Hygiene, created in Indiana in 1919 and directed by Dr. Ada Schweitzer, was one of the most “vibrant” in the United States in its efforts to reduce infant mortality and educate families about infant rearing. In 1919 a law was passed by the Indiana legislature that authorized the publication and free distribution of a book for mothers known as The Indiana Mother’s Baby Book. From 1920 this was given to every mother in Indiana when her baby was born. Play and playthings were addressed as part of advice on exercise primarily from the perspective of physical health although early concerns about infant mental health and emotional development are also noticeable in the following description from the second edition:

EXERCISE Babies should play Babies should play in the open air when possible Babies should not be tickled Babies like to romp. Romp with them but don’t excite. It makes a nervous baby Babies may be gently rolled and kneaded in the bath for exercise Babies like to romp and play on the floor. Be sure to spread a sheet or washable rug on the carpet, for carpets hold dirt and germs tracked in by dogs, cats and human feet Babies should not play on the floor in cold weather. Let them play on the bed Babies should not be fastened for a long time in their high chairs or go-carts for then they will not develop Babies playthings should be frequently washed and baked in the oven of the kitchen stove to kill any germs which might be on them (Rice, 1946, p. 309. Bold in the original) Parents were also expected to train young children in their future sex roles. By the early 1900s, infants started to transition to short pants by age 2 or 3 instead of age 5–7 (Grant 2004). In an analysis of toys advertised in the Sears general catalogs from 1905 to 1975, Mahoney (1977) found that almost 40 percent contained mention of the mother from 1925–1929, a percentage higher than any other period covered by the study. She associated this with

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a countertrend to the female emancipation of the 1920s that emphasized the traditional role of motherhood more than ever before and declared that the character of the child as a future adult was determined by the mother’s actions when that child was an infant and toddler.

MOVING TOWARDS THE GOLDEN AGE OF INFANT TOYS: COMMERCIALIZATION Improvements in health, housing, and education coincided with the opening of big department stores, catalog advertising, and the selling of toys through nickel and dime stores. Greenfield (1991), in his extensive two-volume dissertation on the toy industry and consumer consumption, describes the historical progression and development of the ways in which department stores marketed to families, the toy market reached the rural areas through catalogs, and the working class population were enticed into toy purchases through the nickel and dime stores. The proliferation of different toys for children and the commercialization of toys was part of a changing approach to childhood. By 1900 the factory system for producing toys was well established and toymakers focused on increased efficiency at producing low priced toys. One of the greatest consumer objections to buying toys was their perceived lack of durability. This perception was especially true for families with limited resources who did not want to pay for a toy that would not last. As a result, toy makers began to stress the physical and material aspects of the toys in their advertising. This included the safety of toys (no sharp edges), appearance (no ugly or frightening features as appeared, for example, in some early baby rattles) and sound (no loud, jarring noises). Department stores specializing in selling toys opened in large and small cities and most departmental stores at least stocked toys at seasonal times of the year, especially around Christmas. Customers preferred the spaciousness, choice and low prices of the large stores to the small traditional toyshop that had focused on personality and connecting with customers. There were several challenges, however, to increasing the success of the toy business. One was the tendency for toy-selling to be a seasonal business. Second, women were the best and most frequent customers but department store mangers still had the nineteenth century middle class view of women as dependent, emotional, and unpredictable beings. Third, families in the early 1900s continued to regard toys as a luxury and the toy sellers needed to be trained to adopt a new rationale for toy purchasing by adults. A functionalist approach to toys and the creation of toy retailers as experts who could relate toys to early education was the solution to this dilemma. Toys were stressed as crucial to the child’s development and at each stage of

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development the parent should ensure that the child had the appropriate agerelated toys. Different toys could be considered as having a different function such as “imitative” to encourage role-play and pretend play or “instructive” such as alphabet blocks in a wagon (Weis, 1987). Part of this salesmanship involved toy and clothing industries targeting their family consumers on the basis of gender. Dressing infants in pink or blue originated in the clothing industry in the 1920s (Grant, 2004). Dolls were made for girls and by playing with dolls, girls were being taught maternal nurturing behaviors. By playing with toy soldiers, cars, trains, and trucks boys would learn to become “real men” and with increased technology, machine-like toys were created for boys (Varney, 2002). Parents began to buy toys as a status symbol, out of affection for their children and from memories of their own childhood, if they had toys when young (Greenfield, 1991). The toy department also became a place where children could touch things and their presence was not only tolerated but also welcomed. The salesperson had to be one who could relate to children and take the perspective of a child. Window displays were another way of attracting the child and adult’s attention to increase their interest in toys. Demonstrating toys in motion such as wind-up toys and even putting children in the toy windows were strategies that proved successful. Greenfield (1991) argues that it was clear during the second half of the nineteenth century that farmers were becoming increasingly wealthy from cash crops and that much of the nation’s wealth was in the rural rather than urban areas. With increased income, there was a higher demand for manufactured items and the mail order catalog companies began to cater to this population. By the turn of the century two catalog companies—Montgomery Ward and Sears and Roebuck included several toys in their catalogs and used illustrations of toys instead of just listing items. Rural areas were now part of the consumer culture and most homes had at least one catalog often used as a picture book to amuse children. At the same time that the mail order industry was expanding, dime store businesses such as Woolworth targeted the working-class urban populations. Fixed prices and fewer salespersons appealed to working class customers who were busy in mills, factories, home businesses and caring for families and did not have the leisure time to spend in large departmental stores that often seemed unwelcoming to them. Gradually, even middle class customers would sometimes frequent the nickel and dime stores. Toy stores, hardware stores, corner stores, and candy stores also began selling toys that cost only five or ten cents. Two toy items that were in great demand were the doll and the teddy bear. Teddy bears were viewed as suitable for children of both sexes and dolls were mainly for girls. Rag dolls refer to dolls made of any fabric, and cloth dolls

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are a subset of rag dolls made of linen or cotton (Connecticut Doll Artists, n.d.; Edward, 1997). Early rag dolls were stuffed with wood-wool or cork so that they could be washed. Kewpies appeared in 1912 and were made to look like chubby children with large heads, very round tummies, and a little hair standing up from the head. The legs were molded together, the hands were webbed and they had large eyes and small wings from the shoulder blades (Fraser 1963; Pettigrew 1991). By 1920, Raggedy Ann dolls became a popular item. Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy became the most popular Indiana dolls for a long time. John Gruelle created the design for a doll named “Raggedy Ann” which he patented and trademarked in 1915. Although accounts about the story of events vary in different reports, Cavinder (1985) wrote that Marcella Gruelle found a battered doll in the trash, in December 1914. She rescued it and took it to her father’s office (John Gruelle) who was then working as an illustrator/cartoonist for the Indianapolis Star. He recognized the doll. It was one of his mother’s old dolls and he applied a new face to it and used two buttons from his drawer as eyes. The name Raggedy Ann came from the poems of James Whitcomb Riley, an Indiana poet who was a friend of Gruelle. Marcella died of tuberculosis in 1916 and her father continued to write stories and illustrate them with drawings of the doll. The first teddy bears, adopting President Theodore Roosevelt’s nickname for the toy, appeared in toyshops in 1902. At the time few such soft and cuddly toys existed but by 1904 the market for teddy bears had become very competitive (Pettigrew 1991). Teddy bears were stuffed with kapok, sawdust, wood-wool, straw, or cork granules. The early bears had long arms, humps on their backs, glass eyes, and the arms, head and legs were movable. A white female bear called Barbara introduced in 1910 was never successful but male teddy bears continued to be in great demand (Pettigrew 1991). By 1920 catalogs such as Sears had many toy items for sale and typified the consumerism and advertising of that time. Educational toys were beginning to emerge (for an extensive discussion of such toys see Cross 1997, pp. 129–146), and parents were informed how to create a playroom for children (Jacobsen, 1997). Infant and toddler toys in Sears Catalogs from 1920–1924 that were for both sexes were toy animals, toy musical instruments, construction toys, riding toys, and novelty mechanical toys. Those for girls only were doll houses, stuffed animals, baby dolls, and push and pull toys. Toys listed for boys were vehicles, toy soldiers, and military toys (Mahoney, 1977). The mass production of playthings was given particular attention in the early twentieth century by educators and child-rearing experts who were concerned that excessive material consumption could lead to family envy and rivalry and corrupt the nation’s youth. Children would learn to put pressure on parents to buy them whichever toys they wanted (Matt, 2002). Baby books,

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sometimes called record books or yearbooks, where parents would document the early events and development of their child, often list toys given as gifts on special occasions. Two such books held in the Old Jail Museum, Valparaiso, Indiana, document toys given to the children in the first year. The first book is of a boy born in February 1923 in Valparaiso. He received many silver and gold gifts and clothing from different family relatives and friends, an ivory doll, two fancy rattles and another rattle listed as first baby gifts. At his first Christmas at age 10 months, his gifts included three rattles, Tinker toy, teddy bear on wheels, music box, a teddy bear suit, consisting of sweater, cap, leggings and mittens, a horse, elephant and train. A girl in the same family was born October 1918. Her first baby gifts included an ivory rattle. Her first toy was listed as a “Kitty Horse” from an uncle. Her Christmas gifts that year included her first doll and several rattles including one with an ivory teething ring. These are examples of the rapidly expanding choice of toys available to parents for their infants.

CONCLUSIONS The notion of the infant as a complex human being and of infancy as a valued time of life emerged with increased knowledge about babies and their needs within the context of the family. Infant playthings and attitudes toward play from 1860 to 1930 showed changes that occurred at the same time as infant mortality was reduced with new medical advances and improved living standards. The types of infant toys changed with the creation of new materials and awareness of safety. Indiana is an example of a state that is rich with untapped primary and secondary sources that show the gradual changes in attitudes to infant play, play settings, and the material culture of infancy. Not all infants were fortunate to experience such changes at the same time. Much depended on the environment and traditions into which they were born. However, radio, books, magazines, and increased travel made the spread of information more likely. Through the combination of analyzing historical trends and material culture we can better understand the changing role of play and toys in infantrearing practices in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

NOTES 1. This paper is based on part of the author’s research and data collection on infant rearing in Indiana 1860–1930, funded by a two-year Clio Grant from The Indiana Historical Society. A preliminary review of the data was presented at the Association for the Study of Play Annual Conference, Santa Fe, 1999. The author warmly thanks

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the many historians, museum directors, archivists, and private collectors in Indiana who supported this work and shared their knowledge and collections. Nancy Gabin, Professor of History, Purdue University, was Consultant to the project and is thanked for her encouragement and advising. Numerous librarians and student researchers in Indiana, and librarians Lea Leininger and Gaylor Callahan, Walter Clinton Jackson Library, UNCG are also gratefully acknowledged for their assistance. 2. Brief timeline of American literature and events: Pre 1620–1920 (8.5.06) 3. The History Place. Child Labor in America 1908–1912. Photographs of Lewis W. Hine. (8.5.06) 4. Indianapolis, Indiana http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indianapolis,_Indiana; (8.6.06) 5. Victorian women (8.6.06) 6. The industries of South Bend and Mishawaka Northern Indiana Center for History (8.6.06)

REFERENCES Alberts, M.E. (1990). Coral and bells: The mysterious history of teethers and rattles. Iowa Medicine, May, pp.242–245. Baby’s Health: A practical handbook for the young mother (1916). Private collection. Breathnach, S.B. (1992). The Victorian nursery companion. New York: Simon & Schuster. Burnett, F. H. (1981). Little Lord Fauntleroy. (First published in 1886) London, UK: Penguin Books. Calvert, K. (1992). Children in the house: The material culture of early childhood 1600–1900. Boston: Northeastern University Press. Cavinder, F. D. (1985). The Indiana book of records, firsts and fascinating facts. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Clark, B. L. (2000). Girls, boys, toys: Gender in children’s literature and culture. American Historical Review, 105, 3, 1066. Clement, P. F. (1997). Children in the Industrial Age 1850–1890. New York: Twayne. Cone, T. E. (1979). History of American pediatrics. Boston: Little, Brown and Co. Connecticut Doll Artists (n.d.). Doll FAQs: A history of dolls. Cross, G. (1997). Kid’s stuff. Toys and the changing world of American childhood. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Degler, C. N. (1984). Out of our past. The forces that shaped modern America. Third edition. New York: Harper and Row. Edward, L. (1997). Cloth dolls. From ancient to modern. A collector’s guide. Atglen, PA: Schiffer.

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Fogel, A. (1991). A brief history of babies. In A. Fogel (Ed.), Infancy: Infant, family and society (2nd ed.) (pp. 3–8) New York: West Pub. Co. Fogel, A. & Melson, G. (1988). Child development. Individual, family, and society. New York: West Pub. Co. Fraser, A. (1963). Dolls. New York: Putman. Grant, J. (2004). A “real boy” and not a sissy: Gender, childhood and masculinity, 1890–1940. Journal of Social History, 37, 4, 829–851. Greenfield, L. F. (1991). Toys, children, and the toy industry in a culture of consumption, 1890–1991. Doctoral Dissertation, Vols 1 and 2. Ohio State University. Hardyment, C. (1983). Dream babies: Three centuries of good advice on child care. New York: Harper & Row. Haskell, A. & Lewis M. (1971). Infantilia: The archeology of the nursery. London: Dennis Dobson. Hersey, M. (1998). Collecting baby rattles and teethers. Iola, WI: Krause. Hewitt, K. & Roomet, L. (1979). Educational toys in America: 1800 to the present. Burlington, VT: the Robert Hull Fleming Museum, University of Vermont. Hibbs, H. H., Jr. (1915). The present position of infant mortality: Its recent decline in the United States. Publications of the American Statistical Association, 14, 112, 813–826. Jacobsen, L. (1997). Revitalizing the American home: Children’s leisure and the revaluation of play, 1920–1940. Journal of Social History, 30, 3, 581–596. Madison, J. H. (1982). Indiana through tradition and change. A history of the Hoosier state and its people 1920–1945. Indianapolis, IN: Indiana Historical Society. McClary, A. (1997). Toys with nine lives: A social history of American toys. New Haven, CT: Shoe String Press. McGreal, C. E. (1988). In Great-Grandma’s nursery. Infant Mental Health Journal, 9, 4, 305–323. McLary, K. (1993). Amish style. Clothing, home furnishing, toys, dolls, and quilts. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. MacLeod, D. I. (1998). The age of the child: Children in America, 1890–1920. New York: Twayne. Mahoney, M. A. (1977). Toys and materials for infant care: Cultural images of American childhood, 1905–1975. Cornell University. Dissertations International, 38, 7: 3470-B. Matt, S. (2002). Children’s envy and the emergence of the medium consumer ethic, 1890–1930. Journal of Social History, 284–302. Mintz, B. (n.d.). Top 102 toys. “E-train” The Online Magazine of the Train Collector’s Association http://www.tcamembers.org/articles/chronicles/toptoys Nation, R.F. (2005). At home in the Hoosier hills: Agriculture, politics and religion in southern Indiana 1810–1870. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. O’Brien, R. (1990). The story of American toys. From puritans to the present. New York: Abbeville Press. Pettigrew, J. (1991). An Edwardian Childhood. Boston: Little, Brown and Co. Rice, T. B. (1946). J. N. Hurty: The Indiana baby book. In T.B. Rice, The Hoosier health officer: A biography of Dr. John N. Hurty. Printed in N. Manchester, Indiana.

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Roosevelt, T. (1919). Theodore Roosevelt’s letters to his children. J.B. Bishop (Ed.) New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Bartleby.com, 1998. www.bartleby.com/53/. Rose, G. S. (1991). The distribution of Indiana’s ethnic and racial minorities in 1850. Indiana Magazine of History, LXXXVII, 224–260. Schroeder, J. J., Jr. (Ed.) (1973). 1923 Sears Roebuck Catalog. Northfield, Illinois: Digest Books. Solis-Cohen, M. (1909). Life knowledge or woman’s responsibilities and duties at all periods. Philadelphia, PA: Uplift Pub. Co. Smith, D. L. (1967). Celluloid dolls. Western Collector, January, 11–15. Steinson, B. J. (1994). Rural life in Indiana 1800–1950. Indiana Magazine of History, 90, 203–250. Stern, A. M. (2002). Making better babies: Public health and race betterment in Indiana 1920–1935. American Journal of Public Health, 92, 5, 742–752. Sutton-Smith, B. (1986). Toys as culture. New York: Gardner Press. Varney, W. (2002). Of men and machines: Images of masculinity in boys’ toys. Feminist Studies, 28, 1, 153–174. Weis, R. K. (1987). To please and instruct the children. Essex Institute Historical Collections, 123, 2, 117–149. Zelizer, V.A. (1985). Pricing the priceless child: The changing social value of children. New York: Basic Books.

Chapter Five

Playmate Preferences of Preschool Children Based on Race, Sex, and Perceived Physical Attractiveness1 Harold Fishbein, D. Michael Malone, and Dolores A. Stegelin Educational reform in early childhood education implemented over the course of the past 50 years has heightened our awareness of the need to focus attention on the growing developmental, ethnic, and individual diversity of school populations. Efforts to support the development of young children through the design and implementation of individually sensitive programs have become particularly focused over the course of the last 20 years (e.g., Bredekamp, 1987; Bredekamp & Copple, 1997; Chipman, 1997; Mallory & New, 1994; NAEYC, 1996). While there has been increased attention given to this issue by practitioners, a thorough review of the literature reveals a rather sharp decline in research on preschoolers’ attitudes, judgments, preferences, and social status associated with individual diversity since 1995. In particular, little attention has been given to how and why young children, in their formative years, choose and engage playmates. Changes in policy and practice associated with expanding diversity of early childhood classroom populations should reinforce the importance of a research agenda directed at understanding the impact of individual differences and characteristics on the social dynamics of diverse preschool populations. The purpose of this study was to examine the influence of race, sex, and perceived physical attractiveness on playmate preferences among four-yearold children in an ethnically diverse preschool classroom. These variables have been identified in the literature as important, but left relatively unexplored during the last 10–15 years when classroom diversity has increased significantly. Based on the available literature, we expected to find same-sex preferences interacting with race. More specifically, boys would prefer to play with white same-sex peers and girls would prefer to play with samesex, same-race peers (Fishbein & Imai, 1993). We expected that white boys and girls would rate attractiveness of other white children higher than black 74

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children and that black boys and girls would rate attractiveness of other black children higher than white children. Thus, we expected to find same race attractiveness. We also expected that children’s attitudes about race and sex (Williams & Moreland, 1976) would be significantly associated with observed inter-racial dyadic interactions and children’s sociometric ratings of playmate preference. Finally, we expected children’s observed inter-racial dyadic interactions and sociometric ratings of playmate preference to be significantly associated with children’s attractiveness scores. The literature supporting these expectations is presented below and organized by racial attitudes, sex-based preferences, and perceived physical attractiveness.

RACIAL ATTITUDES AND PLAYMATE PREFERENCES The research on the development of racial attitudes that can inform our understanding of the social dynamics of diverse preschool populations is both limited and equivocal. For instance, some researchers have reported positive-white/negative-black peer judgments for both white and black children (Aboud, 1988; Bigler & Liben, 1993; Clark, 1963; Doyle & Aboud, 1995; Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Williams & Morland, 1976). Although such judgments could result in a similar pattern of bias for playmate preferences (e.g., Gopaul-McNicol, 1995), there is evidence that differential behavioral styles of black and white children lead to same-race peer selection (Finkelstein & Haskins, 1983; Levy & Katz, 1993; Zimmerman & Brody, 1975). Still other researchers suggest there is no systematic relationship between peer preference and race (Goodman, 1952; Porter, 1971; Stevenson & Stevenson, 1960). The variation in results across studies may be a function of the methods used (e.g., forced choice, single alternative interview, open-ended interview, etc.), the complexity of the concept of racial attitudes, and the emerging nature of this concept in children during the early childhood years (Ballard & Keller, 1976; Lerner & Buehrig, 1975; Lerner & Schroeder, 1975). Given the publication date of most studies comprising this literature, the meaningfulness of the results may be limited by socio-historical changes in the larger social milieu.

SEX-BASED PLAYMATE PREFERENCES Sex is considered to be one of the most salient determinants of social dynamics and group formations among young children (Maccoby, 1988, 1990; Singleton & Asher, 1977). Although the sex-related diversity of playmate groupings

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will vary with setting, opportunity, and age, there is a clear tendency toward same-sex groupings whenever children have a choice of playmates near their own age (Hartup, 1983; Lockheed & Klein, 1985; Maccoby & Jacklin, 1987). This finding seems to be consistent across cultures (Edwards & Whiting, 1988; Maccoby, 1988, 1990) and may be a function of social reinforcement. Put simply, young boys are socialized to play with boys and young girls are socialized to play with girls. The process is, of course, more complex and mediated by factors such as children’s preferences to play with others who are more similar on personal (e.g., race, age, emotionality) and stylistic (e.g., active versus passive play) characteristics. Several authors (Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Maccoby, 1988; Schofield & Francis, 1982) have argued that same-sex social groupings among children provide a more egoistic function for boys and a more socially binding function for girls. As evidenced by Fishbein and Imai’s (1993) findings that white, black, and Asian boys preferred playing with white boys and that white, black, and Asian girls preferred playing with girls of their same race, the issue of sex-based playmate selection is not unidimensional and is in need of additional investigation.

PERCEIVED PHYSICAL ATTRACTIVENESS AND PLAYMATE PREFERENCES The relationship between perceived physical attractiveness and peer status and social competence has been acknowledged in early research, but not explored more recently (Dion, 1973; Krantz, 1987; Smith, 1985; Vaughn & Langlois, 1983). The role of physical attractiveness as a variable in social status appears to be greater for girls (Krantz, 1987; Maccoby, 1988; Vaughn & Langlois, 1983), with social status being equated with measures of social competence, sociometric rank, and attention rank (Singleton & Asher, 1977; Vaughn & Langlois, 1983). Such variables play a role in peer/playmate affiliation. Boys may be more influenced by whole body physical indicators while girls may be influenced more by facial expression (Dion, 1973; Krantz, 1987). These differences represent a methodological challenge to the measurement of physical attractiveness, suggesting a need to control for variables such as facial expression, body position, and part- versus whole-body pictures that may influence male or female subjects. While physical attractiveness may be important in play preferences of preschoolers, at least during initial stages of social interaction, the importance may remain higher for girls over time than for boys. In short, the existing literature provides a start, but indicates a need to better understand the variables that help explain how children select their playmates.

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METHOD Participants Fifty preschool children from four preschool classes of an urban, mid-western child development center were recruited for participation in this study. Parental permission was obtained for all children. The total sample included the following four race/sex combinations: 15 white boys, 16 white girls, 7 black boys, 12 black girls. Due to the low number of other-race children these data were dropped from the analyses. The distribution of children’s race and sex by classroom is presented in Table 5.1. The average age of the children was 4.67 years. Although individual SES data was not collected, families were not considered significantly different on this variable (within or across race). The children’s teachers were white women, each with formal graduate training in early childhood education/child development. The developmentally appropriate program curriculum did not include a specific anti-bias initiative. An additional 16 children were recruited from another urban preschool for use with the attractiveness measure. These children (four white boys, four white girls, four black boys, and four black girls) were of the same age and SES as the primary sample of 50 children. The role of these 16 children is described in the procedure section. Procedure A multi-method approach incorporating direct observation, child ratings, and child self-report was used to obtain the data reported in this paper. First, the children were observed during free-play activity in their classroom. Six 5-minute observations of each child playing were conducted over a period of three days (behavioral codes are presented below under Behavioral Codes and Data Reduction). Children were observed in an alternating fashion (five minutes on child one, five minutes on child two, five minutes on child three, etc.) until each child was observed for a total of 30 minutes. Observations that Table 5.1. Race and Sex Distribution By Class Race/Sex Grouping Class

Black Female

Black Male

White Female

White Male

Total Class Size

1 2 3 4

3 3 4 2

2 1 2 2

5 3 4 4

2 6 4 3

12 13 14 11

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were conducted on the same day were separated by 15–30 minute intervals. The coding procedure during each five minute observation was a 5/10 interval technique: 5 seconds observe and 10 seconds record. One of two trained observers recorded the race and sex of the target child and playmate when the target child was engaged in either interactive or parallel play (children playing within three feet of one another) with one or more children. Checks on inter-observer agreement were conducted on 20% of the observations and yielded agreements that exceeded 90% for both race and sex of children. Second, children were interviewed individually by one of two white female research assistants and were asked to select their three favored playmates from full length body color photographs of all the children in their classroom. All selections of children were given equal weight in data analyses. In addition, each child was asked to view each of the photographs of his/her classmates one at a time and to indicate how much he/she wanted to play with each child by selecting from among three faces: (a) smiling face  “a lot,” (b) neutral face  “a little,” and (c) frowning face  “not at all.” Third, children’s attitudes concerning race and sex role stereotyping were assessed using the Preschool Racial Attitude Measure (PRAM II) developed by Williams and Morland (1976). Finally, perceived physical attractiveness of the 50 participants was examined by employing 16 children from another urban preschool in the same city. Children from another school were used in order to provide an “outsider” index of perceived physical attractiveness. These children were asked to indicate which boys from the larger sample they thought were the cutest and which girls from the larger sample they thought were the prettiest. Ratings were made using a rank order approach and were conducted separately for boys and girls within each classroom. Specifically, each child rater was presented with the pictures of all the target boys/girls within a classroom and asked to indicate which boy/girl he/she thought was the cutest/prettiest. The picture was removed from view after a selection was made. The child rater then was asked to select the cutest/prettiest child from the remaining pictures. This process was repeated until all children were ranked. In order to compensate for class size, the rankings were divided by the number of boys or girls in each classroom. No attempt was made to compare children in different classrooms. All children with an equivalent rank order were considered equally attractive. Behavioral Codes and Data Reduction The multi-method approach just described yielded four variable groups: dyadic race/sex playmate preference, sociometric measures, race and sex role

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stereotyping, and perceived physical attractiveness. These variable groups are described below. Dyadic Race/Sex Playmate Preference Observational data were used to determine (a) observed playmate preferences and (b) frequency of dyadic play interactions. A dyadic play interaction was scored if the target child was engaged in interactive or parallel play with another child. Parallel play was scored as a dyadic interaction since it represents intent on the part of one child to be near another child (Rubin, Fein, & Vandenberg, 1983). Thus, frequency data were used to determine how often each child was engaged in dyadic play with other children. The frequency was divided by the total number of interactions recorded in each child’s classroom in order to make the scores across classrooms comparable. A difference score based on observed and expected playmate choices was created to determine if black and white children were demonstrating dyadic race or sex playmate preferences. The observed proportion of playmate choices in all the race/sex categories was compared to chance expectations for those categories for each observation day (O-E). For example, for a white boy enrolled in a classroom with 15 children, three of whom were white boys, five of whom were white girls, two of whom were black boys, one of whom was a black girl and four of whom were boys/girls of other ethnic backgrounds, there would be a .13 (2 divided by l5) chance expectation of him playing with another white boy in a dyadic play situation. Similarly, there would be a .33 chance expectation of the one white boy playing with a white girl, a .13 chance expectation of him playing with a black boy, and a .07 chance expectation of him playing with a black girl. These comparisons yielded four pairs of proportions for dyadic play combinations: O-E for each white and black boy and girl playing with a white boy, white girl, black boy, and black girl (proportions were not calculated for other-race children). In cases where the observations were made on two different days, a weighted average for chance expectations was determined based on the distribution of children in the various race/sex categories and the number of observed dyadic interactions for each day (Fishbein & Imai, 1993). Positive difference scores indicated relative preference and negative difference scores indicated relative avoidance. Sociometric Measures As previously noted, each child was asked to select his/her three favored playmates by viewing photographs of all his/her classmates at the same time.

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“Soc1—Most Favored Playmate” was computed for each race/sex grouping by dividing each race/sex group total by the number of members in that group. Using a procedure derived from Asher, Singleton, Tinsley, and Humel (1979), each child was also presented the photographs of each of his/her classmates one at a time. Each child would then indicate how much he/she wanted to play with each classmate by selecting from among three faces: (a) smiling face  “a lot,” (b) neutral face  “a little,” and (c) frowning face  “not at all.” The smiling face choice was given a value of “1,” the neutral face choice was given a value of “2,” and the frowning face choice was given a value of “3.” Hence, lower average scores indicated higher levels of social status. Individual ratings were determined for each child by averaging his/her ratings by classmates. This measure was labeled “Soc2—Most Likeable Playmate.” Race and Sex Role Stereotyping Each child was administered the Preschool Racial Attitude Measure II (PRAM II), a measure composed of 24 questions related to race and 12 questions related to sex role stereotyping (for a complete description of the PRAM II instrument, see Williams & Morland, 1976). Each child received a PRAM II score for both race and sex: PRAM race (PramR) and PRAM sex (PramS). The PramR score indicates attitudes about race and the PramS score indicates social knowledge of sex-role stereotyping. Perceived Physical Attractiveness An indication of physical attractiveness (ATT) was obtained from the ranking of target children by 16 children from another preschool. These scores were corrected for class size inequality using proportionate ratios. Lower attractiveness scores reflected greater perceived physical attractiveness. An average rating of physical attractiveness was obtained for white boys [ATT(WM)], white girls [ATT(WF)], black boys [ATT(BM)], and black girls [ATT(BF)].

RESULTS Data were analyzed using ANOVA and Pearson-Product Moment Correlations to address a priori expectations. Interaction main effects were examined through separate univariate tests. Univariate tests were considered significant if p  .05 (range  .05 to .001). Results are organized by the a priori expectations. First, we expected to find a same-sex preference by race interaction: boys would prefer to play with white same-sex peers and girls would prefer to

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play with same-sex, same-race peers. A three-way interaction involving race of target child by race and sex of playmate [F (1, 36)  5.41, MSe  .09, p  .05] and a two-way interaction involving sex of target child and sex of playmate [F (1, 36)  24.85, MSe  .07, p  .01] emerged. The means for dyadic playmate preference (O-E) for each race/sex grouping are presented in graph form in Figure 5.1. Overall, boys preferred playing with boys and girls preferred playing with girls. Both black and white boys preferred playing with white boys more than any other race/sex category. In addition, both black and white boys demonstrated a relative avoidance of black and white girls (observed interaction was less than that expected by chance). White girls preferred playing with white girls and black girls preferred playing with black girls. White girls showed a relative avoidance of white and black boys and black girls. Black girls showed a relative avoidance of white boys.

Figure 5.1. Playmate preference means (O-E) for each race/sex grouping.

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A three-way interaction for most favored playmate (Soc1) involving race of rater by race and sex of rated classmates [F(1, 36)  8.92, MSe  91.08, p  .01] and a four-way interaction involving race and sex of rater by race and sex of rated classmates [F(1, 36)  5.98, MSe  55.97, p  .05] emerged. The means for Soc1 for each race/sex grouping are presented in graph form in Figure 5.2. White boys selected white girls as their most favored playmate, black boys selected black boys as their most favored playmate, white girls selected white boys as their most favored playmate, and black girls selected white girls as their most favored playmate. Finally, significant two-way interactions for Soc2 involving race of raters by race of classmates [F (1, 36)  8.60, MSe  2.14, p  .01] and sex of raters by race of classmates [F (1, 35)  10.82, MSe  2.69, p  .01] emerged. The means for Soc2 for each race/sex grouping are presented in graph form

Figure 5.2. Means for children’s rating of most favored playmate (Soc1) for each race/sex grouping.

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Figure 5.3. Means for children’s rating of most likeable playmate (Soc2) for each race/sex grouping.

in Figure 5.3 (note that lower average scores indicated higher levels of social status). White boys, white girls, and black girls all rated white girls most likable. Black boys rated black boys as most likable. The second expectation was that white boys and girls would rate attractiveness of other white children as greater than black children and that black boys and girls would rate attractiveness of other black children as greater than white children. Thus, we expected to find same race attractiveness. A significant four-way interaction involving race and sex of rater by race and sex of rated children emerged [F (1, 46)  4.66, MSe  .08, p  .05]. The means for attractiveness (ATT) are presented in graph form in Figure 5.4. White boys and black girls rated white girls as most attractive. Black boys rated black boys as most attractive. White girls rated both white boys and white girls as most attractive.

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Figure 5.4. grouping.

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Means for the perceived attractiveness rating (ATT) for each race/sex

The third expectation put forth for this study was that children’s observed inter-racial dyadic interactions and sociometric ratings of playmate preference would be significantly associated with attitudes about race and sex. The most likeable rating for white girls [Soc2(WF)] was significantly negatively correlated with preschoolers’ attitudes about race (PramR) [r  .32, p < .05] and social knowledge of sex-role stereotyping (PramS) [r  .34, p < .05]. Although there were no other significant correlations between targeted variables and race, the choice of a black female most favored playmate rating [Soc1(BF)] was significantly positively correlated with preschoolers’ social knowledge of sex-role stereotyping (PramS) [r  .32, p < .05]. Our final expectation was that children’s observed inter-racial dyadic interactions and sociometric ratings of playmate preference would be significantly associated with children’s attractiveness scores. The choice of the child as a

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favored playmate (Soc1) was significantly negatively correlated with the attractiveness rating for white boys [ATT(WM)] [r  .37, p < .01]. No other significant associations emerged.

DISCUSSION The purpose of this study was to examine the influence of race, sex, and perceived physical attractiveness on playmate preferences among ethnically diverse four-year-old children in a preschool play context. As previously noted, these variables have been identified in the literature as important, but left relatively unexplored during the last 10–15 years. Not only is race considered a salient factor in children’s attitudes and judgments about others (Aboud, 1988; Clark, 1963; Doyle & Aboud, 1995; Finkelstein & Haskins, 1983; Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Gopaul-McNicol, 1995; Levy & Katz, 1993; Williams & Morland, 1976; Zimmerman & Brody, 1975), it is reasonable to expect that racial attitudes and peer judgments will influence children’s playmate preferences. Alternately, children’s playmate preferences may reflect their racial attitudes and peer judgments. Reflecting the complexity of this issue, the method (i.e., interview format) of determining attitudes and judgments can influence outcomes (Lerner & Buehrig, 1975; Lerner & Schroeder, 1975). Few studies have used direct observation of children’s actual peer preferences during play. In addition to race, sex has been identified as one of the most salient variables in playmate selection (Edwards & Whiting, 1988; Fishbein, 1992; Hartup, 1983; Lockheed & Klein, 1985; Maccoby, 1988, 1990; Maccoby & Jacklin, 1987; Porter, 1971; Singleton & Asher, 1977). The process of sex-based playmate selection is mediated by factors such as children’s preferences to play with others who are more similar on personal (e.g., race), developmental (e.g., age), and stylistic (e.g., large group competitive play versus small group collaborative play) characteristics. Finally, the selection of a playmate may be influenced by one child’s perception of the physical attractiveness of another child. This variable has been associated with peer status and social competence (Dion, 1973; Krantz, 1987; Maccoby, 1988; Smith, 1985; Vaughn & Langlois, 1983). In short, early social dynamics reflected in playmate preferences can not be explained through uni-dimensional variables, but must be considered as a complex system of development. Each of the four expectations put forth for this study received modest support. The observational data revealed that, overall, boys preferred playing with boys and girls preferred playing with girls (see also Graham & Cohen, 1997; Maccoby, 1990). However, the interaction effects indicated that the

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boys’ data supported the positive white position (e.g., Bigler & Liben, 1993; Doyle & Aboud, 1995; Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Gopaul-McNicol, 1995; Powell, 1985) and the girls’ data supported the same-sex, same race position (e.g., Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Graham & Cohen, 1997; Levy & Katz, 1993; Maccoby, 1990). Interpretation of the results becomes more complex, however, when we consider children’s sociometric ratings in comparison to children’s actual play behavior. While white boys/girls and black boys rated favorite playmates and most likeable children within race, black girls demonstrated cross race preferences. This pattern is contrary to both Graham and Cohen (1997) and the pattern revealed through direct observation of children playing in this study, but paralleled by ratings of the target children on physical attractiveness made by children from another school program who did not personally know the target children (see Methods). The same-sex influence becomes less clear with the white girls rating (a) white boys as most favored playmate, (b) white girls as most likable, (c) both white boys and white girls as most attractive. The girls’ choice of white boys as a favored playmate was associated with the perceived physical attractiveness of the white boys. Relatively consistent findings emerged for black children in that black boys selected black boys as their favored playmate, as most likable, and as most attractive and black girls selected white girls as their favored playmate, as most likable, and as most attractive. As noted by Lerner and Buehrig (1975) and Lerner and Schroeder (1975), children’s apparent racial attitudes can vary as a function of the method used to determine these attitudes. Although it is possible, for instance, that the black girls’ ratings were unintentionally influenced by the fact that the sociometric procedures were administered by white female research assistants, the results are consistent with research that suggests that black boys demonstrate greater in-group preferences and that black girls demonstrate greater out-group preferences (Gregor & McPherson, 1966; Hraba & Grant, 1970). Further, as black children are taught about how to exist in a white society, girls are more likely to conform to the expected social norms than boys (Hartup, 1970; Moore, 1976). Additional and more contemporaneous research is needed to clarify these issues. Research suggests that cross-sex rejection/same-sex preferences increase dramatically from the kindergarten period on through early adolescence, especially for girls (Hayden-Thomson, Rubin, & Hymel, 1987; Schofield & Francis, 1982; Schofield & Sagar, 1977; Singleton & Asher, 1977). Although the literature is predominantly based on white children, Fishbein and Imai (1993) suggested that this pattern may hold for black children as well. Further, the variability between the observed behaviors and children’s rating of preferences may be more than a methodological artifact. Such

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variation may suggest that at around four years of age children are beginning to develop a true awareness of and preferences based on race and sex (e.g., Ballard & Keller, 1976; Howes, 1988; Ramsey, 1995). Because of the emergent nature of this awareness, how children behave during this period may not be entirely consistent with what they report. Children may balance a sense of self with a culturally correct response and/or capitulation to perceived social status (Fishbein & Imai, 1993; Spencer & MarkstromAdams, 1990). As suggested by Howes (1988), children differentiate between playmates and friends. We did not explore the fine difference between these concepts and the extent to which such differences might reflect the fluidity of sociocultural awareness/perceptions of preschool-aged children (Rice & Donohue, 2002). Indeed, preschool-aged children have a rapidly emerging awareness of others and are learning to assimilate and accommodate the broader social stereotypes and values modeled by older children and adults to whom they are exposed (Giddens, 1989; Sawyer, 2002). Children’s freeplay represents a social context within which children demonstrate modal behavioral dispositions that are, by extension, reflections of the influence of others on children’s evolving thoughts and experiences. Unfortunately, the data presented in this paper does not allow a refined exploration of sociocultural theory and effects. An array of questions can be formulated. Could it be that boys are more competitive and dominating and so may seek out a broader and less challenging group of children than girls (Maccoby, 1990; Schofield & Saga, 1977)? Are girls more focused on physical attractiveness and so more likely to prefer same race/sex playmates (Krantz, 1987; Langlois & Styczynski, 1979; Schofield & Saga, 1977; Smith, 1985)? Is it possible boys’ large group orientation results in a more diverse group demographic and the girls’ friendship-based small group orientation results in same race/sex social preference (Schofield & Francis, 1982)? Is a child’s relative preference/avoidance of other children a function of the goodness-of-fit of children’s emotional regulation (Raver, Blackburn, Bancroft, & Torp, 1999; Smith, 2001)? Are black boys socialized early on to identify more with other black boys than black girls and white boys and girls (Levy & Katz, 1993)? Are the playmate choices that black boys make limited by social dynamics that does not allow them access to a more diverse pool of playmates (Corner, 1989)? Does the black girls’ affinity for white girls reflect a misidentification with white girls; a result of social biases which present white girls as models (Clark, 1963; Moore, 1976; Williams & Morland, 1976)? The answers to such questions and the reason for the pattern of results reported here cannot come from the limited pool of literature that currently exists. A research agenda that extends earlier work with consideration given to contemporary contextual factors is needed.

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IMPLICATIONS FOR PRACTICE AND FUTURE RESEARCH The results of this study extend our understanding of the social development of preschool children related to race, sex, and perceived physical attractiveness. Not only are the dynamics of social engagement associated with race, sex, and perceived physical attractiveness, how children view their peers and the choices that they actually make when playing may not be entirely consistent (Ramsey, 1995; Spencer & Markstrom-Adams, 1990). Such variation could be a function of the methods used to gather data (e.g., observation/self-rating; sample size), more complex social understanding on the part of children, or a reflection that preschool age children are in a developmentally transitional phase with respect to the alignment of their beliefs and behaviors. Although white girls might, on average, be considered to have preferred status, this position is not universal. Similarly, black boys seem to have preferred status with other black boys when we consider children’s ratings. Teachers who are aware of and sensitive to the variation between perceptions and behaviors and the meaning behind this variation may be in a better position to provide guidance to children in both their interactions with other children and in their understanding of their own and others’ social development. Further, teachers can be aware that the fourth year of life may represent a transitional period between more fluid patterns of social engagement and interactions anchored in same-sex preferences. This may be especially true for girls. Indeed, intervention provided by teachers is important to children’s understanding of self and others (Bernstein, Zimmerman, Werner-Wilson, & Vosburg, 2000; Kowalski, 1998; Slavin & Madden, 1979). The children in this study were enrolled in four different classrooms in one preschool center (see Table 1). While an enrollment of 10–15 children is not unusual for a preschool classroom, one might sacrifice social validity for increased statistical power by creating play groups with a larger single population of black and white children balanced on both race and sex. Although the small number of “other race” children prevented us from analyzing that data, we cannot discount the fact that they were present and engaged in the observed play context, thus, represent an unknown variable in the pattern of interactions. Further, our choice to record only observed social engagement limits the information that we can impart. Other variables that could be recorded during the playtime and that would provide valuable insight into the social dynamics of black and white boys and girls include who initiates and receives social bids, the type and quality of the play that occurs during social engagements, affect or emotionality that is demonstrated by one or both children who are socially engaged, and duration of the social engagement. Greater detail would help us understand potential differences between inter-

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actions with playmates and interactions with friends (Howes, 1988). Finally, the PRAM II (Williams & Morland, 1976) may, as a function of when it was developed, be limited with regard to assessing racial attitudes. While we acknowledge cautions regarding the data, we believe that the results highlight the importance of examining multiple factors that influence children’s playmate preferences using multiple methods of data collection. Single variable, single method approaches to exploring playmate preferences can lead to an incomplete understanding of this aspect of children’s development. Teacher understanding and behavior that is responsive to individual children’s social attitudes and needs is critical in creating a positive and secure social environment in the preschool classroom. In sum, the skilled preschool teacher must be attuned to the social dynamics of the children in her/his care and the complexity of these dynamics relative to children’s racial/ethnic attitudes and preferences, the differential influence of child sex on playmate preference, and child perceptions of physical attractiveness. NOTE 1. This article is dedicated to the memory of the late Dr. Hal Fishbein. Hal was a true mentor, scholar, colleague, and dedicated educator whose contributions will be missed.

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Chipman, M. (1997). Valuing cultural diversity in the early years: Social imperatives and pedagological insights. In J.P. Isenberg & M.R. Jalongo (Eds.), Major trends and issues in early childhood education: Challenges, controversies, and insights (pp. 43–55). New York: Teachers College Press. Clark, K.B. (1963). Prejudice and your child. 2nd Ed. Boston: Beacon Press. Corner, J.P. (1989). Racism and the education of young children. Teachers College Record, 90(3), 352–361. Dion, K.K. (1973). Young children’s stereotyping of facial attractiveness. Developmental Psychology, 9, 183–188. Doyle, A.B., & Aboud, F.E. (1995). A longitudinal study of white children’s racial prejudice as a social-cognitive development. Merrill-Palmer Quarterly, 41(2), 209–228. Edwards, C.P., & Whiting, B.B. (1988). Children of different worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Finkelstein, N.W., & Haskins, R. (1983). Kindergarten children prefer same-color peers. Child Development, 54, 502–508. Fishbein, H.D. (1992). The development of peer prejudice and discrimination in children. In J. Lynch, C. Modgil, and Modgil (Eds.) Prejudice, polemic, or progress? Basingstake, England: Falmer Press Ltd. Fishbein, H.D., & Imai, S. (1993). Preschoolers select playmates on the basis of sex and race. Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 14, 303–316. Giddens, A. (1989). A reply to my critics. In D. Held & J.B. Thompson (Eds.), Social theory of modern societies: Anthony Giddens and his critics (pp. 249–301). New York: Cambridge University Press. Goodman, M.E. (1952). Racial awareness in young children. Cambridge: AddisonWesley. Gopaul-McNicol, S. (1995). A cross-cultural examination of racial identity and racial preference of preschool children in the West Indies. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 26(2), 141–152. Graham, J.A., & Cohen, R. (1997). Race and sex as factors in children’s sociometric ratings and friendship choices. Social Development, 6(3), 355–372. Gregor, A. J., & McPherson, D. A. (1966). Racial attitudes among White and Negro children in a deep-South standard metropolitan area. Journal of Social Psychology 68, 95–106. Hartup, W.W. (1970). Early childhood education and research: Significance and needs. Journal of Teacher Education, 21(1), 23–33. Hartup, W. W. (1983). Peer relations. In P. H. Mussen (Ed.), The handbook of child psychology, fourth edition (Vol. 4). Socialization, personality, and social development (pp. 104–196). New York, NY: John Wiley & Sons. Hayden-Thomson, L., Rubin, K.H., & Hymel, G.M. (1987). Sex preferences in sociometric choices. Developmental Psychology, 23(4), 558–62. Howes, C. (1988). Peer interaction of young children. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 53 (1, Serial No. 217). Hraba, J., & Grant, G. (1970). Black Is beautiful: A reexamination of racial preference and identification. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 16(3), 398–402.

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Kowalski, K. (1998). The impact of vicarious exposure to diversity on preschoolers’ emerging ethnic/racial attitudes. Early Education and Development, 146, 41–51. Krantz, M. (1987). Physical attractiveness and popularity: A predictive study. Psychological Reports, 60, 723–726. Langlois, J.H., & Styczynski, L.E. (1979). The effects of physical attractiveness on the behavioral attributions and peer preferences of acquainted children. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 2, 325–341. Lerner, R.M., & Buehrig, C.J. (1975). The development of racial attitudes in young black and white children. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 127(1), 45–54. Lerner, R.M., & Schroeder, C. (1975). Racial attitudes in young white children: A methodological analysis. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 127(1), 3–12. Levy, G.D., & Katz, P.A. (1993, March). Differences in aspects of preschoolers’ race schema: Race schematization, race-based peer preferences, and memory for racially stereotyped drawings. Biennial Meeting of the Society for Research in Child Development. New Orleans, LA. Lockheed, M., & Klein, S. (1985). Sex equity in classroom organization and climate. In S. Klein (Ed.) Handbook for achieving sex equity through education. Boston: Johns Hopkins University Press. Maccoby, E.E. (1988). Gender as a social category. Developmental Psychology, 24, 755–765. Maccoby, E.E. (1990). Gender and relationships: A developmental account. American Psychologist, 45(4), 513–520. Maccoby, E.E., & Jacklin, C.N. (1987). Gender segregation in childhood. Advances in Child Development and Behavior, 20, 239–287. Mallory, B.L., & New, R.S. (Eds.). (1994). Diversity and developmentally appropriate practice. New York: Teachers College Press. Moore, C.L. (1976). The racial preference and attitude of preschool black children. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 129(1), 37–44. National Association for the Education of Young Children. (1996). Guidelines for preparation of early childhood professionals. Washington, D.C.: Author. Porter, J.D.R. (1971). Black child, white child. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Powell, G.J. (1985). Self-concepts among Afro-American students in racially isolated minority schools: Some regional differences. Journal of the American Academy of Child Psychiatry, 24, 142–149. Ramsey, P.G. (1995). Changing social dynamics in early childhood classrooms. Child Development, 66(3), 764–773. Raver, C., Blackburn, E.K., Bancroft, M., & Torp, N. (1999). Relations between effective emotional self-regulation, attentional control, and low-income preschoolers’ social competence with peers. Early Education and Development, 10(3), 333–350. Rice, N., & O’Donohue, W. (2002). Cultural sensitivity: A critical examination. New Ideas in Psychology, 20, 35–48. Rubin, K. H., Fein, G., & Vandenberg, B. (1983). Play. In E. M. Heatherington (Ed.), Carmichael’s manual of child psychology: Social development (pp. 693–774). New York: Wiley.

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Sawyer, R.K. (2002). Unresolved tensions in sociocultural theory: Analogies with contemporary sociological debates. Culture & Psychology, 8(3), 283–305. Schofield, J.W., & Francis, W.D. (1982). An observational study of peer interaction in racially mixed “accelerated” classrooms. Journal of Educational Psychology, 74, 722–732. Schofield, J.W., & Sagar, H. A. (1977). Peer interaction patterns in an integrated middle school. Sociometry, 40(2), 130–137. Singleton, L.C., & Asher, S.R. (1977). Peer preferences and social interaction among third-grade children in an integrated school district. Journal of Educational Psychology, 69, 330–336. Slavin, R.E., & Madden, N.A. (1979). School practices that improve race relations. American Educational Research Journal, 16, 169–180. Smith, G.J. (1985). Facial and full-length ratings of attractiveness related to the social interactions of young children. Sex Roles, 12, 287–293. Smith, M. (2001). Social and emotional competencies: Contributions to young African-American children’s peer acceptance. Early Education and Development, 12(1), 49–72 Spencer, M.B., & Markstrom-Adams, C. (1990). Identity processes among racial and ethnic minority children in America. Child Development, 61(2), 290–310. Stevenson, H.W., & Stevenson, N.G. (1960). Social interaction in an interracial nursery school. Genetic Psychology Monograph, 61, 37–75. Vaughn, B.E., & Langlois, J.H. (1983). Physical attractiveness as a correlate of peer status and social competence in preschool children. Developmental Psychology, 19, 561–567. Williams, J.E., & Morland, J.K. (1976). Race, color, and the young child. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Zimmerman, B.J., & Brody, G.H. (1975). Race and modeling influences on interpersonal play patterns of boys. Journal of Educational Psychology, 67, 591–598.

Chapter Six

Parental Guidance with Four-Year-Olds in Literacy and Play Activities at Home Maureen Vandermaas-Peeler, Jackie Nelson, Melissa von der Heide, and Erica Kelly1 Child: Look! A cow jumping over the moon! Mother: It is a cow jumping over the moon, isn’t it? Child: Remember that on Blue’s Clues?

The preceding interaction between a mother and child illustrates one form of emergent literacy, in which young children become engaged in literacy activities through social interactions such as those in joint storybook reading, and thus can increase their knowledge about reading and writing (Christie, 1994; Roskos & Christie, 2001). This exchange also illustrates the kinds of connections children make between story themes and other aspects of their lives. In this case, the mother was reading a story about a postman who delivers mail to famous fairy tale characters. The child recognized the picture of the cow jumping over the moon from a well-known nursery rhyme, and interestingly, he related it to a television show. In the following example, the same mother and her son were exploring the play materials provided by the researchers. Mother: So what do you want to do? This is the post office. Remember how we do this at the children’s museum? Child: Yeah. Mother: This looks like the shirt that the postman would wear. You want to be the postman?

In this example, the mother linked the current play activity to a past event they experienced together, a visit to a children’s museum. She reminded the child of what they usually do at the museum, and made suggestions for pretend play in the current context as well. Later in the play she asked the child, 93

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“What does Mommy do when I put mail in the mailbox that the postman needs to pick up? Remember?” By reminding her son to put the red flag up on the pretend mailbox, she used the play as a context to teach her child about the world. At the end of this play session, the child looked out the window, and told his mother, “Mommy, you have a mailbox just like I do!” Through these social exchanges, the parent and child have established connections between the on-going activities and their daily lives. Rogoff (1990) referred to these interactions as components of a process called guided participation, an essential component of collaborative learning in social context, in which parents and others share knowledge with children during culturally important routines and activities.

LITERACY AND PLAY The focus of the present research was parental guidance of preschoolers’ emergent literacy and play, two activities that are viewed by many parents and educators, depending on parental and cultural beliefs (see Roopnarine, Shin, Jung & Hossain, 2003), as mutually beneficial, and as important foundations for children’s language use and early literacy behaviors in school (e.g., Bergen & Mauer, 2000; Christie, 1994; Pellegrini & Galda, 1993, 2000; Sonnenschein, Baker, Serpell & Schmidt, 2000). The relationship between literacy and play has been studied extensively in the past few decades, with the underlying assumption that play activities will lead to enhanced literacy competence. Roskos and Christie (2000) summarized the major findings from two decades of research in four main points: first, children incorporate literacy into their play quite naturally; second, they do so more often when literacy materials are introduced into the play settings; third, adult guidance also enhances the frequency of literacy play; and finally, there are common underlying cognitive processes at work in both literacy and play activities of preschoolers. In a subsequent critical analysis of empirical research on literacy and play, Roskos and Christie (2001) found supporting evidence for claims that play “serves” literacy by providing a context for language use that builds connections between written and spoken modalities. Play also provides a physical context in which other skills are explored and opportunities for children to learn and for others to teach them (Roskos & Christie, 2001). Researchers have long established that children’s early childhood experiences at home are extremely important for future success in school literacy programs (e.g., Morrow & Young, 1997; Wood, 2002), but the exact nature of the processes involved in the play-literacy interface has not been examined frequently in the home. One activity that has been studied often in the home is

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parent-child storybook reading (Wood, 2002), though it has seldom been connected with play activities. Storybook reading is associated with children’s subsequent language and literacy development (DeBaryshe & Binder, 1994; Snow, Barnes, Chandler, Goodman & Hemphill, 1991; Torr, 2004; Wood, 2002). Neuman (1997) suggested that storybook reading is one of several mutually engaging activities for parents and children with the highest potential for supporting early literacy development. Green, Lilly and Barnett (2002) explored the ways that families shared reading activities, and found that “parents used literature to entertain, explain events, and extend enjoyment of stories as part of their daily routines” (p. 260). Research on emergent literacy has shown that reading storybooks with young children exposes them to advanced language and concepts that they might not otherwise encounter (Sulzby & Teale, 1991; Torr, 2004). Reading aloud promotes talk about the story involving open-ended questioning, which is related to vocabulary and literacy gains, and may have positive effects on children’s interest and motivation for literacy and play activities (DeBaryshe & Binder, 1994). Dodici, Draper and Peterson (2003) noted that observed parent-child interactions were better predictors of early literacy skills than were parent reports of home literacy experiences. Parental beliefs about the importance of play vary widely across cultures, which affects the types of interactions and experiences they provide for their children (Roopnarine et al., 2003; Vandermaas-Peeler, 2002). Parents who believe that play is important for development often provide an enriched environment for play, and may also become involved in parent-child play activities. For example, Haight, Parke and Black (1997) found that EuropeanAmerican parents in their study viewed play as important for creativity and cognitive development, and engaged in pretend-play activities with their toddlers. Studies examining parental guidance of play have found that American parents in higher socioeconomic brackets tend to be highly responsive and didactic in their play interactions with young children (e.g., Farver, 1993; Vandermaas-Peeler, et al. 2002). Damast, Tamis-LeMonda and Bornstein (1996), for instance, found that primarily college-educated, middle class mothers with more knowledge about play tended to provide higher levels of play responses to their children. Vandermaas-Peeler et al. (2002) described middle-class parents’ use of guided participation to create zones of proximal development during play with their preschool-aged child. They found that the majority of parents’ teaching in pretend play consisted of sharing conceptual knowledge about the world. However, parents varied widely in the types of guidance employed and how they integrated it into play. Despite a plethora of research in preschool settings demonstrating that play can support children’s emergent literacy, much less is known about this

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relationship in the home context (Roskos & Neuman, 1993; Sonnenschein et al., 2000). Thus, the focus of the present study was an examination of the guidance that occurred in dyadic interactions between middle-class mothers in the U.S. and their preschool children in reading and play activities. The primary goals of this study were to describe ways that parents facilitated children’s learning and enjoyment in storybook reading, and dramatic and literacy-related play activities at home, and to observe any connections made by parents and children between the reading and the play activities. Additionally, we assessed parental beliefs and the home literacy environment in self-report measures, in order to examine any relationships between beliefs, environment, and parental guidance behaviors. There were two experimental conditions related to the story content of the book that was read by the parents. In the thematic condition, the book and play materials were thematically linked, in that both story and play related to the post office and mail delivery. In the non-thematic condition, the storybook was unrelated to the play post office materials. Given that direct connections between books and play often are established by American teachers and children in classroom settings (e.g., Paley, 2000; Rowe, 2000), we expected that parents and children would facilitate more connections between literacy and play when the book and play were thematically linked. METHODS Participants Twenty-six four-year-old children and their mothers were recruited through local preschools and the community. There were 14 boys and 12 girls, with a mean age of 51.85 months (SD  6.84). The mothers’ mean age was 35.28 years (SD  4.16). It was a highly educated sample, with 80% of mothers having college or graduate degrees. Twelve-percent of the mothers worked fulltime outside the home, 46% worked part-time, and 42% were full-time homemakers. One dyad was African-American and the rest were Caucasian. The families lived in a small city in the southeastern United States. Materials Researchers brought the stories, play materials, video equipment, and surveys to the participants’ homes. The story for the thematic condition was The Jolly Postman (Ahlberg & Ahlberg, 1986), in which a postman delivers mail to several well-known fairy-tale characters (e.g., Goldilocks and Cinderella).

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The letters are included in built-in envelopes on every other page in the book. The story for the non-thematic condition was The Seven Silly Eaters (Hoberman, 1997), a story of seven children who each eat only one particular food, much to the dismay of their overworked mother. Both stories rhymed and were approximately the same length (32 to 38 pages) and reading difficulty. The play materials related to the theme of the post office and included the following: a standard black mailbox, a mail carrier bag, a postal shirt, a large stuffed bear, a cash register, miniature mailboxes with pictures of the storybook characters mentioned in the Jolly Postman, cards and paper, envelopes of many sizes, stickers, stamps and markers. There were five surveys included in this study. A brief demographic survey provided basic information about those living in the home (age, education, occupation, ethnicity). The Home Literacy Environment Scale or HLE (Burgess, Hecht & Lonigan, 2002) included 12 questions designed to assess how often children and parents read books and watched television. Parents also completed the Parental Reading Belief Inventory or PRBI (DeBaryshe & Binder, 1994), a 42-question survey of beliefs about emergent literacy rated on a 4-point scale. On another survey developed for use in this study, parents rated the familiarity and enjoyment of the activities—for themselves and for their child—on a 4-point scale ranging from “does/did not enjoy” to “enjoyed a lot.” The parents were asked to respond based on current and typical engagement with the activities. Finally, there was a survey of parentchild weekly activities that mothers were asked to complete in the week after the interview, including space for the parents to record any connections made by the child between the book read during the interview and subsequent play activities, and/or any other literacy-related play activities. Procedure After recruitment, dyads were randomly assigned into the thematic condition (story and play materials related to a post office) or non-thematic condition (story unrelated to post office play) and contacted by a researcher to schedule a home-based interview. Parent-child dyads were videotaped at home as they read the story and then completed the 15-minute play activity. For the reading activity, the mothers were asked to “please read this story with your child as naturally as possible.” No further instructions were given, as the aim was to assess typical dyadic interactions during storybook reading. Dyads took approximately eleven minutes to complete the reading activity (no differences across conditions). For the play activity, parents were told, “we would like for you to play with (child’s name) with these toys related to the Post Office

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however it is most comfortable and natural for you.” If siblings were present, a second interviewer played with them in another room. After the play activity was completed, the parent was asked to complete the survey packet described above. At the conclusion of the interview, the mother was given the survey to complete over the coming week and a stamped self-addressed envelope in which to return it. Coding Videotapes were transcribed and the coding was then completed by viewing the transcriptions and the videos simultaneously. The reading and play activities were coded as separate events, and proportions were used as the unit of analysis (unless otherwise indicated) to account for differences in the length of each activity. Coding Parental Guidance A coding scheme to evaluate parental guidance during the reading and play activities was developed from prior research (Vandermaas-Peeler, Way & Umpleby, 2003; Verba, 1998) but modified significantly to incorporate special features of these particular activities (see Table 6.1). The four categories of guidance included comprehension, or behaviors performed in order to further the child’s understanding of the specific activity or general knowledge; activity maintenance, behaviors that developed or extended the activity in progress; feedback, in which parents responded to the child in order to encourage or modify behavior; and making connections, in which parents or children made a connection that extended the on-going activity to a larger context, such as building bridges to prior experiences, making a joke, or connecting the book and play. Some guidance behaviors in each category could be coded as either parent-initiated or child-initiated, except in the feedback category. For example, in comprehension guidance, the parent might have spontaneously explained a picture in the story (parent-initiated), or she might have been responding to a question posed by the child (child-initiated). The only category that contained no child initiations was the feedback category, because the actions were all inherently parent-initiated behaviors. Including child initiations was a significant modification of extant coding schemes. This was done in order to incorporate the child’s active participation in the dyadic activity rather than merely focusing on the parent’s behaviors as in prior research. Reliability of the guidance-coding scheme was established by dual coding of 20% of the sample, at an overall rate of 78% agreement across events and categories.

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Table 6.1. Four Types of Guidance Categories and Examples Type of Guidance Comprehension Asking questions Pauses so child completes sentence Explains the activity, words or illustrations Models a behavior Activity Maintenance Suggests an activity Gives choices

Example What does that look like? Jack and the _______? This is where you write the address. Shows the child how to do something so the child can do it subsequently.

Simplifies the task Parent takes over the task Instructs/directs

Would you like to write a letter? Do you want to make a letter or do you want to play with the cash register? Holds the paper while the child writes. Writes the g for the child. Get the pen so we can write.

Feedback (parent to child only) Provides encouragement Corrects the child Redirects child’s suggestions Repeats and extends child language

That looks good! No, write it like this. Why don’t we color instead? Yes, a party, that is a birthday party.

Connections Laughs and jokes Social links Builds bridges/links to prior experiences Makes connections to other stories (reading) Makes direct connection between book and play (play) Makes indirect connection between book and play

Maybe we should send mail to the moon! Would you like to drink green tea? You’ve gotten letters before too. Who lives up on a beanstalk? Do you want to write something to Goldilocks? Do you want to make a birthday invitation?

Coding Play Four types of play were coded, based on a post-hoc review of the dyadic play sessions. The operational definitions for each type were based on Bergen and Mauer (2000), but modified for the present study. Exploratory play was often seen at the beginning of a session, or in transition to a new form of play, and included play that focused on exploring the materials (e.g., looking in the bag and talking about the materials). Pretend play was coded when the play partners established a make-believe scenario and/or adopted roles signifying an imaginative transformation (e.g., “let’s play post office and I’ll be the cash register person”). Literacy play was coded when the parent or child used materials for writing, drawing and/or reading in their play (e.g., writing a letter). Numeracy play was focused on the use of numbers or math-related

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play, such as adding on the cash register or counting money. Both literacy and numeracy play could be embedded within a pretend-play episode, and were coded separately in those cases. If the dyad never engaged in any joint play activities during the entire session, they were coded as asynchronous. Only one dyad was classified in this way. Reliability of the play-coding scheme was established by dual coding of 20% of the sample, at an overall rate of 85% agreement. Coding Engagement The dyadic interactions were also coded for engagement in the reading and play activities. Engagement was defined as active participation and interest in the on-going activity (Vandermaas-Peeler et al., 2003), through direct action (e.g., verbal interest expressed) or indirectly (e.g., attentive listening). Level of engagement was measured on a scale of 1 (low engagement) to 3 (high engagement). Each member of the dyad was rated separately during the reading and the play activities, and jointly as a dyad during each activity. Reliability of the engagement-coding scheme was established by dual coding of 20% of the sample, at an overall rate of 80% agreement. Surveys The total PRBI score was derived by summing responses to the 42 questions after reverse weighting of the appropriate questions. Questions from the remaining surveys were used primarily to describe the characteristics of the sample.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION Parental Guidance in Reading and Play In order to account for the differences in time spent on each activity across dyads, proportions of the mean total parent-initiated (PI) guidance and total child-initiated (CI) guidance were calculated by dividing the total PI and CI guidance by the number of minutes the dyad engaged in the reading and play activities, respectively. All significant differences reported are at p  .05. Paired samples t-tests indicated that overall, PI guidance during play was more frequent than PI guidance during reading, t (25)  4.81, p  .0001, with an average of 5.25 parent initiations of guidance per minute during play (SD  2.39) compared to 3.15 per minute in reading (SD  1.99). The play activity may be seen as less structured and therefore allowing for more par-

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ent intervention. With regard to CI guidance, a similar pattern was obtained, though at much lower frequencies, t (25)  4.49, p  .0001, with a mean of .89 CI interactions per minute (SD  .72) in play compared to .27 interactions for reading (SD  .27). The amount of parental guidance provided within each of the four main categories (comprehension, activity, feedback and connections) was also examined. The means and standard deviations for each of these variables are presented in Table 6.2. For these analyses, the mean total proportion of guidance in each of the four categories for each activity was employed as the dependent variable in a series of paired samples t-tests comparing differences in reading and play. During the reading activity, guidance provided in support of children’s comprehension was the most frequent type of guidance provided by parents (45%) and also elicited by children (77%). The comparisons for PI comprehension guidance indicated significantly more guidance of this type provided during reading, t (25)  4.14, p  .0001; CI comprehension guidance comparisons yielded similar results, t (19)  2.89, p  .009. It should be noted, however, that although there was more CI comprehension in reading than play, CI guidance for comprehension during play still accounted for half of the total proportion of CI interactions in play (51%, see Table 6.2). Thus, guidance in support of children’s understanding of the activity, and also of general world-knowledge, was of primary importance to parents and children Table 6.2. Mean Proportion of Guidance Provided During Reading and Play Activities. Categories of Parental Guidance†

Reading

Play

Comprehension Parent-initiated* Child-initiated*

.45 (.20) .77 (.35)

.28 (.09) .51 (.28)

Maintaining the activity Parent-initiated* Child-initiated*

.13 (.13) .06 (.15)

.43 (.15) .42 (.30)

Feedback Parent-initiated Child-initiated Connections Parent-initiated* Child-initiated* †

.22 (.17) .21 (.08) No instances of child-initiated feedback .20 (.20) .17 (.29)

.08 (.05) .02 (.04)

Standard deviations in parentheses *statistically significant differences between reading and play, p  .05 or lower.

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in this study. Asking questions and providing explanations (both CI and PI) were the most frequent types of guidance within comprehension. Guidance provided in support of maintaining the activity was much more frequent for both parents and children in the play than the reading activity, t (25)  6.77, p  .0001 for PI and t (19)  –5.25, p  .0001 for CI activity maintenance. Offering suggestions for play was by far the most frequent behavior within this category. Whereas only 13% of PI interactions and 6% of CI interactions during reading maintained the on-going activity, approximately 45% of both PI and CI interactions in play accomplished that goal. Feedback was the only category in which there were only PI interactions, and also the only category in which no significant differences between reading and play were obtained. Approximately 21% of the interactions during reading and play were classified as feedback to the child. Within this category, the two most common types of guidance were providing encouragement to the child, and repeating and extending the child’s answer. Finally, guidance in support of making connections was more frequent in the reading activity than in play overall, t (25)  3.02, p   .006 for PI and t (19)  2.38, p  .03 for CI connections. This type of guidance constituted nearly 20% of PI and CI interactions in reading but 8% or less in play. Laughing and joking, making social links, and building bridges (see Table 6.1 for examples) were the most frequent types of connections. Types of Play Of the four types of play coded in this study, literacy play was the most frequent type of play in mean seconds, compared with pretend, exploratory, and numeracy play (see Figure 6.1). There were also significantly more episodes of literacy play than the other types (M  2.68, compared to 1.6 for pretend, 1.2 for exploratory, and .56 episodes for numeracy play). A repeated measures analysis of the total guidance provided in the four types of play indicated that significantly more guidance was provided during literacy play. Pretend play was the next most frequent type of play, but guidance was not coded in pretend play if the dyad was actively “in the role.” Thematic Condition There were few significant differences between the thematic and non-thematic conditions in the analyses of parental guidance and types of play observed. Parents in the thematic condition initiated more guidance during reading (M  4.19 per minute thematic, 2.09 per minute in non-thematic condition). The Jolly Postman book was more interactive and parents employed more strategies to involve their child, such as suggesting that the children open the

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Figure 6.1. Mean seconds of play by type of play.

envelopes and pull out the letters to be read. The other significant finding was that the parents in the themed condition made more direct and indirect connections between the book and the play. However, the means indicated that parents made less than one connection on average per 15 minutes of play. Gender Differences Each of the primary dependent measures was analyzed for differences due to the gender of the child. There were no differences in parental guidance due to child gender. The primary finding with regard to gender and play was that girls engaged in significantly more literacy play than boys, M  383.5 seconds or 6.39 minutes and M for boys  213.23 seconds or 3.55 minutes out of 15 total minutes of play. Although none of the other comparisons were significant, the mean time playing was higher for girls in all play types except exploratory play. Engagement Paired samples t-tests on the mean ratings of engagement for each activity indicated that there were no significant differences in dyadic engagement

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during reading versus play (overall M  2.35) or in parent engagement in each activity (M  2.79). Children were rated as significantly more engaged in play than reading, with M  2.19 for reading and M  2.5 for play. One-way ANOVAs yielded no significant differences in dyadic engagement or in children’s engagement in the activities due to the thematic or non-thematic condition, and no differences in parental engagement during reading due to condition. This indicated that both stories were equally engaging for parents and children. However, parent engagement during the play activity was significantly higher in the non-thematic condition: M  2.46 for thematic and M  3.0 for non-thematic. This finding was contrary to expectations that engagement might be higher in the thematically linked condition and also unexpected given that the theme of the play materials was the same in both conditions. Surveys The HLE assessed how often children and parents read books and watched television. The mothers reported that both they and their children watched between 1.5 and 2 hours of TV a day. Mothers began reading to their child before the age of one year (M  4 months). The mothers reported that they read approximately three books a month themselves, and their partners/spouses read one a month. The majority of mothers strongly agreed that they believed that reading to the child was important for both skills and entertainment. Thus, the participants in this study strongly supported an emergent, parentinvolved view of literacy. The HLE questions were not correlated systematically with parental guidance, with a few exceptions. Age at which the mother began reading to her child was positively correlated with PI activity maintenance guidance provided in play, r (26)  .389, p  .05, and negatively correlated with feedback guidance in play, r (26)  .53, p  .006. Amount of television watched by the child was negatively correlated with CI comprehension guidance in reading, r (26)  .48, p  .013. The mean score on the PRBI was 148, with values ranging from 124 to 161. The highest score that can be obtained is 168. This score supported the conclusion that the parents in this study strongly supported the emergent literacy perspective (e.g., the importance of reading aloud to young children). The total amount of guidance provided in reading and in play was not correlated with the PRBI. The only HLE question that was correlated with the PRBI was “I perceive reading to a child to be important for entertainment,” r (26)  .64, p  .0001, supporting prior research by Sonnenschein et al. (2000) that middle class families value literacy for the sake of entertainment.

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When asked if their child enjoyed the reading and play activities today, 81% of mothers reported that their children enjoyed them or enjoyed them very much; 92% reported that they enjoyed the reading activity themselves, and 85% reported that they enjoyed playing post office with their child. With regard to “typical” enjoyment of reading and play activities with a parent, 100% of the mothers reported that their children enjoy them a great deal, and all but one parent reported that they typically enjoy reading and playing with their child a great deal. Maternal report of child’s typical enjoyment of being read to was significantly and positively related to the proportion of CI comprehension guidance in reading (but not to PI comprehension guidance in reading), and negatively correlated with CI activity guidance in reading. This suggested that children who enjoyed reading with their parent asked more questions related to comprehension of the story, and made fewer initiations that led to maintaining the activity. None of the children had read either story beforehand, and only 5 of 26 children had ever played post office before. Most parents (92%) reported that they read frequently to their child, and also that they played together daily (92%). Only 50% of the families in each condition returned the surveys after one week, so no statistical analyses of these data were performed. Five parents reported that their children continued to play the post office theme in subsequent play episodes. Here is one example: “(Child’s name) played postal worker for two hours after your interview. Later that evening, he delivered letters to the neighbors. (Child’s name) has played postal worker more than once every day. He talked about our mail lady and noticed her work more.” The play theme was more salient in these reports than any play-literacy connections, although one parent reported her child mentioned an activity from the non-thematic storybook; she wanted to make the lemonade pink “like in that story.” Literacy and Play Connections Building bridges between known and new experiences is one important aspect of guided participation (Neuman, 1997; Rogoff, 1990). Making connections was more common in the reading than in the play activity, as noted earlier. In addition to remembering prior events, parents and children also made connections between the fairy tales depicted in the Jolly Postman book and other stories or rhymes they knew. Children and parents who read Seven Silly Eaters were more likely to make social links, such as discussing food they liked or didn’t like (in conjunction with the theme of this story). Thus, parents in both conditions used storybook reading as a time to connect with

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their child, expand on the themes in the story, and help the child build bridges between the story and real life. At the outset of the study, we anticipated that parents and/or children in the thematic condition would make more connections between the book and the play materials. Given that connections made during play were extremely infrequent in both conditions, this proved difficult to analyze. Eight of the 13 mothers in the thematic condition made some connection between the book and the play, with a mean of .69 (total number, not proportion) direct connections to the book and .30 indirect connections to the book, compared to 0 of the 13 parents in the non-thematic condition. Overall, we were surprised that parents in the thematic condition made so few connections between the book and play (less than one on average). Below are several examples of the kinds of connections that were made. In the following example, the mother and child were writing letters. She picked up the Jolly Postman book and began to look through it for characters to whom they could write letters during the play session. M: Do you want to write something to Goldilocks? C: No. M: What about to the three bears? Would you like to write to Baby Bear? C: No M: Remember that? They lived in the woods in the gingerbread cottage.

The mother makes several more suggestions, each declined by the child. In the next example, another mother suggests the child draw a picture from the book. M: (looking at child’s drawing) Who is that? C: Smiles and points to Mother. M: Me? What about the Postman? Can you draw a postman bringing us the mail? C: No.

In both examples, the parents make an attempt to connection the literacy play activity to the book, but the children were already engaged in other writing and drawing activities and rejected the suggestions. The example at the beginning of the paper illustrated a child-initiated connection, between the book and a television show. The following is an example of a child-initiated con-

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nection between the book and the play. The mother and child have decided that the child will be the mailman. M: You’re the mailman! Well, do you have any mail for me? C: (picks up the mail bag) I have to deliver it, I’ll be right back. M: You have to deliver it, well where are you going to put it when you deliver it? C: (looks into bag) Mommy can I take this stuff out? M: uh-huh C: (removes envelopes from bag) M: Well where are you going to deliver the mail to? C: You are gonna be little red riding hood Mommy. I want to take the mails out of the book.

In this case, the child has assigned the mother a role from the storybook in his play. However, the mother became sidetracked by the plan to take the mail back out of the book, and the child became distracted by the cash register, and several minutes later they finally settled on writing a letter to the child’s grandmother. The majority of the playtime was spent with the mother helping the child write different letters of the alphabet or with the child drawing pictures independently. As illustrated in the example above, much of the playtime was spent writing letters. This coincided with the post office theme, and was often embedded within the play context of eventually mailing the letters in the pretend mailbox. Within literacy-related play, comprehension, activity maintenance and feedback guidance were all provided at relatively high levels. Although connections were less frequent than the other three types of guidance (p  .0001), there were more connections made during literacy play than the other types of play (M  1.16 for literacy play and less than 1 for the other three types of play, p  .0001). This supports prior research on the importance of literacy-enhanced play for a child’s development and in connecting his or her experiences to the written word.

CONCLUSIONS As in prior research (Vandermaas-Peeler et al., 2002), parental guidance during literacy and play activities was provided at a high level by these middle-class, highly educated mothers, and the survey of parental beliefs

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supported the findings that these parents valued literacy activities highly for both educational and entertainment purposes. Mothers in this study used both the reading and the play activities as tools for teaching their children about the world, supporting Rogoff’s (1990) theory of guided participation in culturally relevant routines. Both children’s and parents’ initiations of guidance behaviors were coded in the present research. This was an important methodological difference from many prior studies of guided participation, and highlighted the importance of considering children as active participants in their own development. Our findings indicated that parents provided different amounts and types of guidance in each activity. Although parents provided more guidance overall in play than in reading, joint storybook reading fostered more guidance for comprehension, and in particular this involved asking questions and explaining the story or the illustrations. In addition, parents and children made more connections during the reading activity than they did in play. These findings support and extend prior research on storybook interactions, in which parents used reading as a context to introduce concepts, and to engage their children in talk about the story and the world at large (DeBaryshe & Binder, 1994; Green et al., 2002; Roskos & Neuman, 1993). Guidance provided during play, on the other hand, was more likely to be focused on maintaining the activity, with parents making frequent suggestions for what to play or how to do an activity. The different structure of the activities may have contributed to this result, given that play is open-ended and allows for many more types of interactions. Roskos and Christie (2000) concluded that there might be similar cognitive processes underlying play and literacy activities. Our results show that parents provide some different types of guidance in each type of activity, but little is known about the possible effects of these different types of guidance on outcomes for children. Longitudinal research is needed to assess the role of differing parent-child interactions in reading and play activities on cognitive and social development of preschoolers. As noted by Roskos and Christie (2001), there are numerous operational definitions of play in the literature, and indeed, what constitutes play to an adult may well differ from a child’s view of play. We let parents and children determine their own course of “play” in this study, with a wide variety of materials related to the post-office theme. We included materials that would support pretend and literacy-related play (e.g., a large stuffed bear, dress-up clothes, and a cash register, in addition to pens, envelopes, stamps and paper), and materials that were directly related to the themed story (e.g., the mailboxes with story characters drawn on them), but observed much less pretend play than in past research with different materials (Vandermaas-Peeler et al., 2002). When parents and their four-year-old children “played” post office,

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they often worked on making the letters of the alphabet, or drawing and writing, rather than playing a postman delivering mail in a fantasy world as in the story they had just read. Roskos and Christie (2001) noted that little is known about how literacy-enhanced play, especially as supported by adults, affects children’s play life. Roskos and Christie asked an important question: does literacy play enhance or detract from children’s sociodramatic play? Our results would suggest that the presence of literacy materials in the post office theme fostered more literacy-related play and diminished sociodramatic play. However, it is also noteworthy that the play materials were novel to the children and the majority of them had never played post office before. There may have been inherent appeal in the mailing envelopes and stamps (one mother commented that “I never let her play with stamps!”) that superceded sociodramatic play in the short term. Long-term effects of provision of literacy materials in sociodramatic play contexts should be examined. Vivian Paley has written prolifically about her work with kindergarteners in connecting fantasy play and storytelling (e.g., Paley, 1984, 1992, 1997, 2000). In her classrooms, children wrote a story and acted it out with classmates every day. Paley provided an opportunity, through guided participation, for shared experiences with writing, telling, and playing stories, sometimes in the context of fairy tales, but often just from the children’s own imaginations (Wiltz & Fein, 1996). Reading the rich descriptions of the children’s integrated connections in Paley’s classrooms led to the examination of the literacy-play interface in mother-child interactions in this study. Although we did not instruct parents to make connections across the story and the play, in order to observe more naturalistic interactions, we assumed that some parents and children would naturally do so. Over half of the mothers in the thematic condition did make one connection between the story and the play, but the connections were relatively infrequent and did not lead to integrated and engaged literacy-enhanced play episodes as in Paley’s classroom observations. It is possible that our play materials were too literacy-oriented and de-emphasized the dramatization of story. Research is in progress with new story and play materials to test this possibility, and also to extend the findings to include low-income families. It is also possible that the play period was too short to facilitate literacy-play connections, or that adults facilitate these types of interactions in more subtle ways than those observed in the present research. Roskos and Neuman (1993) observed day-care teachers’ facilitation of literacy in play, and concluded that these behaviors may require more sophistication than the types of guidance provided in storybook reading. Play involves multiple roles, more complex behaviors, and critical timing (Roskos & Neuman, 1993). Perhaps, as observed by Rowe (2000), book-related dramatic play experiences are initiated by children sporadically in the home,

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but brought to the forefront in classroom settings where children have a wide variety of opportunities for play and social interaction with peers, and where the same literacy themes are apparent in many of the activities throughout the day. Whether or not facilitation of literacy-play connections is an important priority for parents in home-based literacy experiences remains to be seen, and further research on parent-child interactions during literacy and play activities is needed to address this question.

NOTE 1. We are deeply grateful to the families who agreed to participate in the study. We thank the Undergraduate Research Program of Elon University, for funds in support of this research provided to Jackie Nelson and Melissa von der Heide. We also thank Lauren Simmons, Laura Wulf, Charity Bumpass, and Melissa Taylor for help with data collection and coding.

REFERENCES Ahlberg, J. & Ahlberg, A. (1986). The Jolly Postman, or other people’s letters. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company. Bergen, D. & Mauer, D. (2000). Symbolic play, phonological awareness, and literacy skills at three age levels. In K. A. Roskos & J. F. Christie (Eds). Play and literacy in early childhood, research from multiple perspectives (pp. 45–62). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Assoc. Burgess, S. R., Hecht, S. A., & Lonigan, C. J. (2002). Relations of the home literacy environment (HLE) to the development of reading-related abilities: A one-year longitudinal study. Reading Research Quarterly, 37, 408–426. Christie, J. F. (1994). Literacy play interventions: A review of empirical research. Advances in Early Education and Day Care, 6, 3–24. Damast, A. M., Tamis-LeMonda, C. S. & Bornstein, M. H. (1996). Mother-child play: Sequential interactions and the relation between maternal beliefs and behaviors. Child Development, 67, 1752–1766. DeBaryshe, B. D. & Binder, J. C. (1994). Development of an instrument for measuring parental beliefs about reading aloud to children. Perceptual and Motor Skills, 78, 1303–1311. Dodici, B. J., Draper, D. C., & Peterson, C. A. (2003). Early parent-child interactions and early literacy development. Topics in Early Childhood Special Education, 23, 124–136. Green, C. R., Lilly, E., & Barnett, T. M. (2002). Families reading together: Connecting literature and life. Journal of Research in Childhood Education, 16 (2), 248–262.

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Farver, J. M. (1993). Cultural differences in scaffolding pretend play: A comparison of American and Mexican mother-child and sibling-child pairs. In K. MacDonald, (Ed.), Parent-child play: Descriptions and implications. (pp. 349–366) Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Haight, W. L., Parke, R. D., & Black, J. E. (1997). Mothers’ and fathers’ beliefs about and spontaneous participation in their toddlers’ pretend play. Merrill-Palmer Quarterly, 43, 371–290. Hoberman, M. A. (1997). The Seven Silly Eaters. San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace & Co. Morrow, L. M., & Young, J. (1997). A family literacy program connecting school and home: Effects on attitude, motivation and literacy achievement. Journal of Educational Psychology, 89, 736–742. Neuman, S. B. (1997). Guiding young children’s participation in early literacy development: a family literacy program for adolescent mothers. Early Child Development and Care, 127–128, 119–129. Paley, V. G. (1984). Boys and girls: Superheroes in the doll corner. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Paley, V. G. (1992). You can’t say you can’t play. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Paley, V. (1997). The girl with the brown crayon. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Paley, V. G. (2000). The kindness of children. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Pellegrini, A. D. & Galda, L. (1993). Ten years after: A reexamination of symbolic play and literacy research. Reading Research Quarterly, 28, 163—175. Pellegrini, A. D. & Galda, L. (2000). Cognitive development, play and literacy: Issues of definition and developmental function. In K. Roskos and J. Christie (Eds.). Play and literacy in early childhood, research from multiple perspectives (pp. 63–74). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Assoc. Rogoff, B. (1990). Apprenticeship in Thinking: Cognitive development in social context. New York: Oxford University Press. Roopnarine, J. L., Shin, M., Jung, K., & Hossain, Z. (2003). Play and early development and education. The instantiation of parental belief systems. Contemporary Perspectives in Early Childhood Education, 115–132. Roskos, K. A. & Christie, J. F. (Eds.) (2000). Play and literacy in early childhood. Research from multiple perspectives. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Assoc. Roskos, K. & Christie, J. (2001). Examining the play-literacy interface: A critical review and future directions. Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 1 (1), 59–89. Roskos, K. & Neuman, S. B. (1993). Descriptive observations of adults’ facilitation of literacy in young children’s play. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 8, 77–97. Rowe, D. W. (2000). Bringing books to life: The role of book-related dramatic play in young children’s literacy learning. In K. Roskos and J. Christie (Eds.). Play and literacy in early childhood, research from multiple perspectives (pp. 3–25). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Assoc.

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Snow, C., Barnes, W. S., Chandler, J., Goodman, I.F. & Hemphill, L. (1991). Unfulfilled expecations: Home and school influences on literacy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sonnenschein, S., Baker, L., Serpell, R., & Schmidt, D. (2000). Reading is a source of entertainment: The importance of the home perspective for children’s literacy development. In K. Roskos and J. Christie (Eds.). Play and literacy in early childhood, research from multiple perspectives (pp. 107–124). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Assoc. Sulzby, E., & Teale, W. H. (1991). Emergent literacy. In R. Barr, M. L. Kamil, P. Mosenthal, & P. D. Pearson (Eds.), Handbook of reading research (Vol. II, pp. 727–757). New York: Longman. Torr, J. (2004). Talking about picture books: The influence of maternal education on four-year-old children’s talk with mothers and pre-school teachers. Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 4 (2), 181–210. Vandermaas-Peeler, M. (2002). Cultural variations in parental support of children’s play. In W.J. Lonner, D. L. Dinnel, S. A. Hayes, & D. N. Sattler (Eds.), OnLine Readings in Psychology and Culture, Western Washington University, Department of Psychology, Center for Cross-Cultural Research Web site: HYPERLINK “http:// www.ac.wwu.edu/~culture” http://www.wwu.edu/~culture. Vandermaas-Peeler, M., King, C., Clayton, A., Holt, M., Kurtz, K., Maestri, L., Morris, E., & Woody, E. (2002). Parental scaffolding during joint play with preschoolers. In J. Roopnarine (Ed.) Conceptual, social-cognitive, and contextual issues in the fields of play. Play and Culture Studies, 4, 165–181. Vandermaas-Peeler, M., Way, E., & Umpleby, J. (2003). Parental guidance in a cooking activity with preschoolers. Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 24 (1), 75–89. Verba, M. (1998). Tutoring interactions between young children: How symmetry can modify asymmetrical interactions. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 22 (1), 195–216. Wiltz, N. W. & Fein, G. G. (1996). Evolution of a narrative curriculum: The contributions of Vivan Gussin Paley. Young Children, March, 61–68 Wood, C. (2002). Parent-child preschool activities can affect the development of literacy skills. Journal of Research in Reading, 25 (3), 241–158.

Chapter Seven

All In a Day’s Work: Children’s Views on Play and Work at the Fifth Grade Level Michael M. Patte

A major source of stress in many schools can be linked to the heightened demand for teacher and student accountability and measurable outcomes for school programs as outlined in the No Child Left Behind Act (U.S. Department of Education, 2002). The pressure for schools to meet their Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP) goals run high and are felt by all stakeholders in the school system. Inevitably, schools eliminate or reduce programs they view as impediments to academic progress. Ironically, such programs are often the ones that children enjoy the most. What messages are children taking away from all of this and what sense are they making of it? The elementary school in which I taught for twelve years followed just such a pattern. Many extracurricular activities that provided outlets and enrichment for both students and faculty fell by the wayside in favor of additional time for structured academic learning. I was interested in finding out what effect this ever-increasing academic school climate would have on fifth grade students’ perceptions of play and work at school. Here I will share my experiences as an elementary school teacher working in an accountability-driven environment where time devoted to play was decreasing, and also share the results of a research study examining fifth grade students’ perceptions of play and work at school in such a strongly academic environment. My focus is not with any preconceived benefits of play or work. Instead, I want to unearth what children actually think about these things— what they see as play or as work, what attributes they believe both have, and their observations of their own teachers’ attitudes toward play and work. I am also interested if the strong academic school environment of which they were a part affects their own attitudes concerning play and work at school. Why is such information important? Certainly any information we can learn from and about children can assist in enriching our understanding of 113

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them and then our understanding of the issues involved. Also, this information can shed light on how the current educational climate may be affecting children’s thinking about work and play at school. Recent federal legislation in the United States stressing the heightened demand for teacher and student accountability and measurable outcomes for school programs suggest an often critical view of the idea of play as learning. On the other hand, even though a great deal of early childhood philosophy has affirmed the centrality of play in the curriculum, Bennett & Kell (1989) suggest that the role of play in educating young children has almost attained the status of a commandment, but it is a commandment observed far more in the telling than in the doing. A variety of messages are being advanced and received by children about play. What they themselves believe about play and work, and the value of both, will be affected by these messages. As teachers of children, an understanding of their attitudes may help us reaffirm our own beliefs, and may be useful to us in articulating a rationale for the inclusion of play in our own practice. As Fein (1981) points out, one problematic aspect of studying play comes from the lack of a precise behavioral definition. The primary impetus for this work, then, is a curiosity and interest in children’s definitions of play and work in a school climate marked by increasing academic rigor, although the ideas and remarks of children in this study are, of course, not intended to be seen as representative of all children.

CHILDREN’S PERCEPTIONS OF PLAY AND WORK When researchers study children’s perceptions of play, they typically examine perceptions of work as well in order to offer a contrast. Many important ideas about children’s perceptions of play and work have been revealed from these investigations including: (1) the perceptions of children and adults concerning play and work are often different; (2) the attitudes of children concerning play and work change with age; (3) some school activities are not easily categorized as play or work; and (4) the classroom environment endorsed by teachers may impact student perceptions of play and work. Robson (1993), for example, found from talking with children about their perceptions of play and work that they had learned through experience to associate play with their own self-initiated tasks, contrasting this with formal work involving teacher direction. Keating, Fabian, Jordan, Mavers, & Roberts (2000) supported this view by highlighting how children had a clear awareness of the difference between play and work, specifically with reference to varying learning opportunities inherent in them. In addition, two vital play elements identified by children in a study by King (1979) were the abil-

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ity to choose and then to direct the activity. In a study of kindergarten and first/second graders’ perceptions of play in a suburban primary school, Wing (1995) found that teachers tried to make work seem “play like,” but children recognized this as disguised work. Both choice and direction were necessary components for an activity to be labeled as play for children in the present study as well. Children’s definitions of play and work change dramatically as they progress from kindergarten through fifth grade (e.g. King, 1982a). Studies of classroom interaction show that kindergarten children focus on the social context of their experiences. They label all required activities as work, while only voluntary activities are called play. By fifth grade, however, children focus primarily on the psychological context of their experience. According to King (1982a), pleasure becomes the most important criteria on differentiating play from work. In fifth grade, the category of play becomes much broader and includes both required and voluntary activities that the children enjoy. The category of work, on the other hand, becomes much narrower and includes only required activities that the children find difficult or tedious. According to Holmes (1991), children easily identify some activities as either play or work, but other activities are more difficult to classify. For instance, kindergartener’s perceptions of play were broad in an ethnographic study of a full-day kindergarten in a low-income neighborhood (Cooney, 1995). Children in this study had trouble differentiating play activities from work activities and tended to label all of their classroom activities as play. Similarly, Johnson (1997) reported that after preschool, children were confused about using the labels work and play and made distinctions about different parts of an activity. Finally, some activities in King’s (1979) study were labeled as both play and work by kindergarten children depending on the context. The classroom environment endorsed by teachers appears to impact student perceptions of play and work. For example, Johnson (1997) stated that the educational program and its philosophy influence children’s perceptions of play and work. He hypothesized that children who labeled activities as both play and work were more likely to be enrolled in programs valuing children’s input. Similarly, Karrby (1989) compared children’s perceptions of play and work from two distinct settings and highlighted how children from a child-initiated, play based environment displayed broader perceptions of learning, describing learning in both child-initiated and teacherdirected tasks. Children from the structured setting clearly distinguished between play and learning, and consistent with the findings of King (1979), these children described teacher directed activity as learning and childinitiated activity as play. These children also stated that learning did not

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occur through play. An additional in-between category in perceptions of play and work called, smushing play and work together, was highlighted by Perlmutter and Burrell (1995) who studied perceptions of play in a K–3 multiage classroom in the rural south. They found a busy and exciting classroom environment encouraged activities that children could define as either work or play. Therefore, a better understanding of children’s and teacher’s perspectives of play and work can help improve learning environments for children in three particular areas: the selection of materials and activities, the contexts in which they are used, and the ways the children are guided in their activities (Cunningham & Wiegel, 1992).

METHODS The present study was conducted during the 2003–2004 school year in a rural elementary school located in central Pennsylvania. Classroom and playground observations and interviews with fifth grade students were used to generate the data on perceptions of play and work activities taking place. Field notes and interview transcriptions were coded and analyzed to discern emergent themes. Setting of the Study The elementary school served a mostly professional clientele drawn to the area by two large hospitals, a private university, and two federal penitentiary complexes. Although a substantial portion of the school population was upper-middle class, there was also a growing portion of lower-middle class and a small portion of middle-class residents in the community. The elementary school, with 320 students, was somewhat unique as the entire building only housed grades four and five. The school climate can perhaps best be described as warm and welcoming, creating what Tonnies (1957) called a “community of kinship” where people are part of a tightly knit web of meaningful relationships that share a common place, and over time come to share common sentiments and traditions that are sustaining (Patte, 2002). Participants of the Study The convenience sample included 20 fifth grade children (10 boys and 10 girls). My dual role as both a researcher and a teacher in the elementary school enabled me to access a variety of potential study participants. However, to obtain a reasonable and workable number of students for the study,

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all participants came from my homeroom class. From this class of 25 students, 20 were selected. The children who were not included in the study did not return a signed parent consent form or chose not to engage in an interview when the researcher extended an invitation. Children were observed during daily recess and their activities were documented using expanded field notes to document the types of play activities that the children exhibited. Recess was chosen as the optimal time to observe children because two vital elements of play were consistently present: children were free to choose and direct activities without teacher intervention. Observations were completed prior to the interviews to provide the researcher with an informed perspective necessary to conduct effective interviews. Children participated in a 15-minute semi-structured interview with the researcher. Role of the Researcher Lincoln and Guba (1985) have stated that, although objectivity is the goal of traditional research, it is mostly an illusion. They further note that attempting to maintain objectivity while studying human interaction fails the researcher in two ways. First, it does not safeguard the data from the researcher, and second, it prevents the researcher from examining the most relevant data. Patton (1990) asserts that a researcher’s ability to remain neutral with regard to the phenomenon under study is the vital issue. Rather than trying to prove or to manipulate data to arrive at a particular perspective, the researcher has an obligation to understand the world as it is, to recognize the multiple perspectives and complexities as they emerge, and to balance the reporting of the data. I had a dual role as both classroom teacher (insider) and researcher (outsider). As both classroom teacher and researcher, I made decisions affecting the development of the study including its purpose, e.g. which participants to select, what questions to pose during the interviews, what characteristics to highlight during observations, and what data to select. Therefore it is relevant to discuss my personal involvement to provide a thorough understanding concerning my role as the researcher of this study. My dual role presented several benefits and drawbacks during the study. As a teacher who taught in the elementary school for twelve years, I had first hand knowledge of the inner workings of the school culture. This eliminated the need to spend large amounts of time getting acquainted with the vernacular or routine, as would have been the case if I conducted the study in an unfamiliar setting. It also fostered a sense of trust between the participants and myself. Another benefit was easy access to the study participants. Working

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daily with students made the job of interviewing and observing multiple participants manageable. My engagement provided a foundation for credibility in the study and allowed me to build trust and rapport with the participants. Several drawbacks adhere to being teacher and researcher. Even though I accounted for confidentiality and anonymity, it was possible that participants told me what they thought I wanted to hear, instead of what they truly believed. An additional difficulty in my role as a researcher (outsider) was making the everyday familiar routines, interactions, and settings in the elementary school seem strange (Erickson, 1986). Working in a particular setting with the same people for an extended period of time can create intellectual and organizational complacency. Interviews Interviews can be thought of as a “conversation with a purpose” (Webb & Webb quoted in Burgess, 1982, p.107). The researcher interviewed each participant once individually during the last period of the school day known as homeroom. The interview format was semi-structured and had four research questions: (1) What do you like doing at school?, (2) What are play and work and how are they different?, (3) When do you play and work?, and (4) Does your teacher play/work? A comfortable, relaxed, and informal environment was created by conducting the interviews in a familiar setting (homeroom class) with a trusted adult (classroom teacher). The researcher made it clear that the questions asked had no right or wrong answers. The interviews provided the children and me with opportunities to travel back and forth in time. They encouraged me to delve into emerging issues and gave the children the opportunity to clarify the meanings they were creating. Notes were taken during each interview and expanded immediately afterwards. The use of a tape recording devise was not employed during the interview process due to school district policies. Participant Observation Data obtained from observing phenomenon is called participant observation. In this study I became a participant in my role as an observer. I collected data from the field during the 2003–2004 school year, highlighting the elements suggested by Taylor and Bogdan (1984), including the setting, the participants, activities and interactions, frequency and duration, and other subtle factors. Such an immersion allowed me to “hear, see, and begin to experience reality as the participants do” (Marshall & Rossman, 1995, p.79). Where interviews allowed me to travel back and forth in time, observations permitted me to unearth the “here-and-now inter-workings” of the multiple environments through the use of the sensory spectrum (Erlandson, Harris, Skipper, & Allen, 1993, p.94). Participant observation allowed me to expand

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my knowledge and to develop a sense of what was important. I realized the insider’s challenge of combining participation and observation for understanding fifth grade students’ perceptions of play and work in order to then describe their perceptions for outsiders (Patton, 1990). Each fifth grade student was observed two times for the study during the 2003/2004 school year in two distinct settings by the researcher: an academic classroom during formal instruction and on the playground during recess. After generating data on site, I recorded field notes of what transpired. Patton (1990) writes that field notes should contain everything the researcher has observed and believes is worth noting. My field notes also included a reflective aspect that demonstrated a more personal account of the time spent on site. My emphasis focused on speculations, feelings, problems, ideas, hunches, impressions, and prejudices. This part also clarified and corrected mistakes or misunderstandings (Bogdan & Biklen, 1992). Data Analysis Strauss and Corbin (1990) define the analysis of data as the operations by which data are broken down, conceptualized, and reconstructed in new ways. Observation checklists, interview notes, and field notes were used to generate data to attempt to answer the research questions concerning student’s perceptions of play and work. Data analysis proceeded in five phases: (1) initial reading; (2) second and third readings to begin to extract themes and patterns; (3) creation of meaningful categories and subcategories; (4) construction of data displays; and (5) reporting of initial findings. During the initial reading, all data were read in their entirety in order to develop a holistic sense of the data, as well as to check for information that might have been missing. The observational checklists, interview notes, and field notes were all read a second time to begin to extract themes and patterns. Codes and labels were used to assign units of meaning to the descriptive information collected during the study. Beginning codes were named and defined. The data were then cut into segments, each containing potentially important aspects, and taped to index cards, which were labeled by broad category. Index cards were created to reduce the data into manageable units for contrasting, comparing, and cataloging. Once the data index cards were completed, the themes and patterns of student’s perceptions of play and work were examined within each category. Similar responses were counted to identify the prevalence and consistency of occurrences of specific topics. Categories continued to be refined during the process. Various data displays were constructed and altered throughout the course of analysis. Concept webs were also employed to help view the findings in context.

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At the completion of the analysis phase, an outline was developed to frame the study in an effort to develop a clear sense of the study and create a picture of the student’s perceptions of play and work. The findings formed the foundation for the outline and data were cross-referenced to the outline. This provided the primary conceptual structure for the study. The outline was expanded to include excerpts from interviews, notes, and observations. Quotations that were representative of the themes contained in the outlines were chosen from the original data set. I included in the findings those quotations that provided the richest illustration of the themes. This expanded outline served as the foundation for the findings of the study.

RESULTS Fifth grade student’s ideas and responses to the research questions have been synthesized here into various categories denoted by the questions that head each section. Pseudonyms were used in place of student’s names to protect their identity. What Do You Like Doing at School? Responses provided by students to this question offered insights into how they categorized what they did. The responses of the fifth grade students frequently mentioned playing at recess. They viewed daily recess as a right that should not be infringed upon, as one of the few times during the day when they were free to choose what they wanted to do without undue influence from their teachers. A common frustration among teachers and students alike concerning the amount of time devoted to daily recess was well articulated by Kevin. “We can barely get a game started in the time we have for recess. Before you know it, the teacher is blowing the whistle for us to line up and head back inside. I wish we had more time for recess.” One prominent activity observable during recess included organized games and activities including soccer, four-square, kick ball, tag/you’re it, catch, king of the hill, knock out, dodge ball, and wall ball. Kyle expressed his enjoyment for organized games by saying “I love playing soccer at lunch recess because we get to choose our own teams, call our own fouls, and spend time with our friends.” Maddie expressed similar feelings “We enjoy playing four-square at recess because it is challenging and we get to make our own rules like electric fences and no watermelons.” Joe and his friends enjoyed playing wall ball because “it is a challenge to hit the wall from far distances which allows us to strengthen our throwing arms for baseball.” Erin and her

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group of friends sped around the playground daily engrossed in a game of tag/you’re it. She expressed her enjoyment for the game by sharing “We love to run around during recess and get our hearts pumping really fast. It lets us burn off some energy.” A second prominent recess activity included walking, talking, and socializing. Not all children were engaged in strenuous exercise during recess time, some just enjoyed being with their friends. During my observations of children during recess, I often saw many of them engaged in walking/ talking/socializing. Bobby was one such child who loved walking alone around the playground. He shared, “My favorite part of the school day is walking through the field during recess. I look for butterflies and birds in the springtime and enjoy hearing the snow crunching under my feet in the winter.” Kathryn also enjoyed walking and talking with her friends. “Recess is one of the few times during the day when I can talk to my friends. We love spending time together walking around the fields and talking.” Andy explained why recess was his favorite part of the day “Recess is the only time of the day when my friends and me can sit around and talk without getting in trouble. It is a great time to talk about anything we want to.” An additional activity many fifth grade students liked at school included participating in specials (classes including art, gym, and music). Michael describes his love for art class this way, “Mrs. Wagner lets us use a variety of different materials to create pieces of art. She encourages us to use our imaginations. Last week I made a picture frame using buttons of different shapes and sizes. That was a cool project.” Alice described gym as an “extra recess period where Mr. Spangler challenges us through neat games like running through an obstacle course and working together as a team in the game capture the flag.” Todd expressed enthusiasm about music. “I love to sing and make music. Mrs. Lowry let us play around with a variety of instruments until we find one we like the best, then she teaches us how to play it.” Why might students identify more traditional classroom activities as work, but identify activities from special classes as play? Interestingly, many fifth grade students reported having more freedom to choose activities in which they showed an interest in special classes compared to their academic classes. Endorsing such a constructivist teaching philosophy appeared to cause a blurring of the lines between play and work for the children. Perlmutter and Burrell (1995) found that a busy and exciting classroom environment encouraged activities that children might define as either play or work. Furthermore, Johnson (1997) concluded that children’s perceptions of play and work were influenced by the educational program and its philosophy. Not one of the 20 fifth grade students mentioned work as a favorite activity. What was so attractive to children about play? Why were they upset about

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the lack of time devoted to it? The most common reason given for liking play was due in part to the sheer enjoyment they obtained from the experience. This enjoyment was evident on the faces and in the actions of children in my observations of them at recess. My observation field notes in general paint a picture of the daily playground landscape resounding with bursts of shrill laughter and children running to and fro with beaming smiles on their faces while engaging in a wide variety of play activities. The enjoyment the children showed for recess was also evident is the words they used to describe it. Sarah thought recess was “fun,” Ben found it “exciting,” Shana described recess as “active,” MacKenzie saw it as “happy,” Jim believed recess was “joyous,” Barbara found it to be “full of laughter.” Engaging in play seemed to be therapeutic for some students, especially in the present-day climate of greater student accountability. For example, Kathryn described play as a “peaceful part of the day” where she did not have to focus on academics, while Andy described play as a “calming” break from the rigors of a day filled mostly with academic tasks. My observations of students after they had engaged in the daily recess period support the therapeutic nature of play. A entry from my field journal notes: “Upon re-entry to the school following recess, the students appeared to be rejuvenated and ready to tackle the rest of the school day.” What Are Play and Work? How Are They Different? The amount of pleasure associated with an activity did appear to differentiate play from work. As was evident in the last section when fifth grade students described what they liked best about school, all students in the study favored play activities to work activities. This finding was also consistent with what King (1979) found in her study examining kindergarteners’ perceptions of play, that play activities were more significant to children than work activities, and that kindergarten children spoke more spontaneously about their play activities compared to their work activities. Play was viewed as a voluntary activity in the eyes of the fifth grade students. Free choice and self-direction were common characteristics in activities the students defined as play. Play activities involved less standardization than work activities and allowed children more control over what they did. Karen summarized this idea of freedom to choose in play by saying, “Playing at recess is one of the few times during the school day when we have a say in what we are doing.” This finding echoes that of King (1979) who found that kindergarten children identified two characteristics of play activities that sharply divide then from work activities: (1) the voluntary nature of play; and (2) the absence of standardization imposed by the teacher in the play activity.

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The children described fewer of their classroom activities as play. As will be discussed in the next section, the vast amount of time each day spent in school was devoted to work related activities (roughly 310 out of 400 minutes per day). All of the opportunities to play identified by fifth grade students took place during a fifteen-minute recess or during one of the specials (art, gym, or music). How, then, did children define work? I grouped the work activities identified by fifth grade students into three groups: schoolwork, practice, and school related jobs. The majority of activities students defined as work fell into the schoolwork category and included daily learning associated with all of the major subject areas including reading, math, science, social studies, spelling, writing, and English. Students also identified asking questions relating to any of these subject areas as work. Other activities students identified as work fell into the practice category and included completion of homework, studying for quizzes and tests, and practicing on their musical instruments. Students identified the completion of various school jobs assigned by the teacher as work. These jobs included cleaning desks and cubbies, erasing and washing the chalkboards, cleaning chalkboard erasers, picking up trash, emptying the pencil sharpener, watering plants, feeding pets, cleaning out pet cages, straightening up shelves, sweeping, and dusting. In contrast to the words used by the students to describe play, work was often seen as mandatory; “work is something you have to do” was a popular comment. Fifth grade students expressed strong opinions about work and classified most of their daily activities at school as work. Some students identified work in a negative light. For example, Todd found work to be “no fun”; Erin thought it was “tough”; Jim described work as “hard”; Morgan called it “boring”; Kyle labeled work as “something you don’t do for enjoyment”; Alice reflected that work was “something you get tired of doing”; Joe identified it as “almost anything you don’t want to do”; Sarah equated work with “getting up early”; and Ben defined work as “anything other than eating, playing, or sleeping.” Other students had a more positive outlook concerning work. For example, Robbie described it as “putting effort into something; Barbara found work to involve “thinking”; Michael saw work as “using your brain”; Karen thought it took “mental energy”; Bobby equated work with “helping others”; and Kathryn viewed it as “something you do to get better.” The difference between play and work in the eyes of children aligns with Froebel’s (1877) view that play is what children are involved in when they initiate a task, and work is what they do when they complete a task required by an adult. Atkin (1991) argues that the message “if it is play then it cannot be work” is received early by children in their lives at school. This certainly seems to be the case with the majority of fifth grade students participating in this

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study. With little exception, decision making in the elementary school tended to be seen by the children as resting in the hands of the teacher, with their opportunities limited to only certain parts of the school day (recess and some special classes). Much of what fifth grade students said about labeling an activity as play or work revolved around ideas of control and decision-making. When Do You Play and Work at School? The amount of time devoted to daily free play in fifth grade was small according to the students. They reported ten to fifteen minutes devoted each day for playing at recess and thirty minutes each day for specials (art, gym, and music) compared to 310 minutes devoted each day for schoolwork. Kindergarten children in King’s (1979) study also described most of their daily experiences at school as work. Since the students received ten to fifteen minutes for daily free play at recess, they were very protective of what they viewed as a precious commodity. Many of the students voiced concern about the ever-decreasing amounts of time devoted for playful activities. For example, Todd complained “When I was in third grade we played on the playground at least three different times every day. Now we only get ten minutes.” Maddie added “If you don’t rush eating your lunch, you are lucky to even get ten minutes of recess each day.” Ben recalled that, “In the past, teachers would dedicate the last twenty minutes of the school day to recess. But in fifth grade all we do now is prepare for the PSSA Test.” Sarah agreed “We spend so much time in remediation class, we never have time anymore for anything fun.” As mentioned in the introduction, one cause for the decreasing amounts of time devoted to play at the elementary school can be linked to the heightened demand for teacher and student accountability and measurable outcomes as outlined in the No Child Left Behind Act (U.S. Department of Education, 2002). District administrators are feeling pressure to meet their Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP) goals. In order to accomplish these goals, schools eliminate or reduce programs they view as impediments to academic progress. Unfortunately for fifth grade children, time for playful activity outside of the structured learning environment is seen as one such impediment to the academic goals of the classroom. Ironically, such activity is often what the children enjoy the most. Does Your Teacher Play/Work? When asked about the role of their teacher in school play and work, students were clear that teachers were often viewed as work partners but rarely viewed as play partners. All twenty fifth-grade students mentioned their teacher’s role in assigning, monitoring, and evaluating work. Kevin highlighted this

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notion stating that “The teachers do not seem to have time to play. They are busy working. During lunch recess an aide monitors us so the teachers can work.” Barbara touched on the same issue by sharing that “My teachers are nice and helpful in class. They are good teachers, but we almost never see them outside on the playground. Sometimes when they do come outside, they stand around and talk to each other.” In contrast, none of the fifth grade students saw their teachers as being involved in play. The general perception held by fifth grade students, then, was of working with their teachers and playing with their friends. Michael summed up this notion well by stating that in his school “Teachers assign work and students play.” The fifth grade students believed that work related activities were more important to their classroom teacher than play activities for three reasons. First, time devoted to daily play was small compared to time devoted to daily work. Second, teachers were much more likely to interrupt children during their recess time than during their work time. Finally, fifth grade teachers seldom engaged in play with their students during recess, which devalued play in the eyes of their students. Children from King’s (1979) study also believed play was less important because the teacher was more likely to interrupt them while they were playing than working. King attributes such attitudes to the teacher’s lack of involvement in play activities. Scholars like Hutt, Tyler, Hutt, & Christopherson (1989) have endorsed the crucial need for adults to become involved in children’s play if one of our goals is to utilize its potential for learning. Teachers may be denying themselves valuable opportunities to observe, support, and extend children’s play if they are absent. In addition, adult guidance may be important for supporting children’s development and for scaffolding their understandings (Vygotsky, 1978). Others have suggested the benefits for both children and teachers when teachers serve as playmates (Lally, 1991). When teachers are not consistently involved in play activities, they may be reinforcing the idea that play has little worth and value in the important business of school. One of the major goals of this work was to unearth fifth grade student’s perceptions of play and work at school. The data indicate that the perceptions of students are that their teachers do not play with them. Students were left to play, while teachers worked with other students. In addition, teachers who are role models for their children are not seen as engaged in play. Implications of the Study for Teachers Three major implications for teachers emerged from this study. These implications include: blurring the lines between play and work; examining the teacher’s role during play; and treating play as a serious activity.

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Blur the Lines Between Play and Work Fifth grade students participating in the study articulated a clear distinction between activities they defined as play and work. All of the student participants associated positive feelings and emotions toward play, described play as a voluntary activity in which free choice and self-direction were common, found play included less standardization than work activities, and thought play provided more control over what they did. In contrast, student participants exhibited mixed feelings toward work. Some students described work as “boring,” while others described it as “something you do to get better.” Two common characteristics of work identified by fifth grade students included a high degree of standardization imposed on them by the teacher and having no choice to direct their own activities. Such findings suggest the potential benefits of endorsing a constructivist approach to teaching that blurs the lines between play and work. Constructivists often endorse activities that challenge the thought process of children so they can construct more elaborate understandings about concepts (DeVries & Zan, 1994). From the point of view of a constructivist, playfulness is a vital element in any activity, be it play or work. In Wing’s (1995) study examining primary student’s (K-3) perceptions of play and work, the children identified an in-between category called “smushing play and work together”. The idea of blurring the lines between play and work was also addressed by Perlmutter and Burrell (1995) who examined (K–3) student’s perceptions of play in a multiage classroom. They found that an engaging and exciting classroom environment encourages activities that children might label as either play or work. Johnson (1997), in a study with children 4 to 6 years old, also concluded that perceptions of play and work were affected by the educational program and its philosophy. He concluded that children who described activities as both play and work were more likely to be enrolled in programs that valued children’s ideas and interests concerning curriculum and activities. Examine the Teacher’s Role During Play Teachers are often engaged in a variety of activities during playtime including talking to colleagues, assessing student work, or meeting with parents. According to King (1982a), teacher’s activities during playtime transmit powerful messages to children about the importance of play. If teachers do not require or assign play activities and do not direct or participate in them, it is not surprising that play activities would seem less important than work activities from the child’s point of view (King, 1979). Hohmann, Banet, & Weikert (1979) suggest strategies teachers can employ to stress the im-

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portance of play including giving children attention and having small and large group discussions on what children do during free play. Availability and attention on the part of the teachers are the most crucial elements, not teacher direction. Treat Play as a Serious Activity According to King (1982b), teachers need to create a context that includes characteristics of both playfulness and work. She believes teachers should promote enjoyable activities including voluntary and self-directed activities. When teachers take play as seriously as other activities in class, they enhance the quality and intensity of children’s play. One way in which teachers model the importance of play is through planning adequate chunks of time for children to become deeply immersed in activities. Hohmann, Banet, & Weikart (1979) suggest that a one hour time block is necessary for children to engage in self-selected activities. Others recommend at least a half hour block of time for play (Christie & Wardle, 1992). Children should be afforded ample time to select an activity, engage in the activity, and bring the activity to closure. Teachers can integrate the voluntary and self-directed characteristics of play into daily programs by exhibiting a playful disposition. An attribute frequently identified in the literature as necessary for success in the fast paced 21st century is a playful disposition. “Playfulness is a precious gift that will provide priceless opportunities for children to think, plan, and enjoy life with all of the incipient changes and challenges offered by the 21st century” (Boyer, 1997/1998, p. 95).

FINAL REMARKS An alarming trend toward the elimination of recess during the school day is affecting many school districts across the United States. This practice is being implemented with the advent of increased school accountability and student testing procedures, and the belief that time could be better spent on academics. This upsetting phenomenon has little research to back it up, and is actually counterproductive to increasing the academic achievement of students (Skrupskelis, 2000). Educational organizations, school personnel, and parents are becoming increasingly concerned with this current trend. In a 1989 survey conducted by the National Association of Elementary School Principals, 90% of the school districts reporting offered some form of recess (Pellegrini, 1995). Most of the responses indicated that recess occurred

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once or twice per day and lasted fifteen to twenty minutes. Since that date and with the increased pressure from a number of sources to improve achievement, increase test scores, and cover an increasingly demanding curriculum, nearly forty percent of the nation’s 16,000 school districts have either modified, eliminated, or are considering eliminating recess from the daily elementary school schedule (American Association for the Child’s Right to Play, 2004). This trend seems to be increasing yearly. This trend was also apparent in the rural elementary school serving as the setting of this study. The amount of time devoted to recess had decreased in recent years from thirty minutes per day to fifteen minutes per day due in large part to the heightened demand for teacher and student accountability and measurable outcomes for school programs as outlined in the No Child Left Behind Act (U.S. Department of Education, 2002). Such a decrease in time devoted to play may have caused a large portion of fifth grade students to view activities identified as work in a negative light. Fifth grade students participating in this study associated a wide range of positive emotions to their playful activities at school. These positive emotions concerning play were due in part to the sheer enjoyment children obtained from play and in part to the voluntary nature of their play activities. In fact, when asked what they liked best about school, most of the fifth grade students described play. Since the students received roughly fifteen minutes for unstructured play each day, it was viewed as “a precious commodity.” While all of the fifth grade students expressed positive feelings toward play, many of them associated negative feelings toward work. These negative feelings may have been caused by the 310 minutes students were typically engaged in work related activities on a daily basis at school. The daily time devoted to play has decreased in recent years due in part to the heightened demand for student and teacher accountability outlined in the No Child Left Behind Act (U.S. Department of Education, 2002). Students may express mixed emotions toward participating in work activities at school due to high level of teacher control associated with such activities. The impetus for this work was a curiosity and interest in children’s definitions of play and work in an increasingly segregated school climate of academic rigor. The results indicate that by fifth grade, students spend most of their school day engaged in work related academic pursuits at the expense of play. Some might think that a tendency to work more as children mature prepares them for adult life after their school careers. But observations and interview data of this study, together with twelve years seeing and listening to fifth graders as their teacher, testify to the importance of also allowing children to engage in daily, voluntary, playful activities as they progress through upper-elementary school. We need to help children balance or blend their

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student work and play roles, especially when the general educational climate seems overly academic with inordinate pressures to perform well on narrowly focused, state-mandated achievement tests.

REFERENCES American Association for the Child’s Right to Play. (2004). Recess news. Retrieved from http://www.ipausa.org/recess.htm. Atkin, J. (1991). Thinking about play. In N. Hall & L. Abbott (Eds.), Play in the Primary Curriculum (pp. 29–36). London: Hodder & Stoughton. Bennett, N., & Kell, J. (1989). A Good Start: Four Year Olds in Infant Classes, Oxford, UK: Basil Blackwell. Bogdan, R.C. & Biklen, S.K. (1992). Qualitative research for education: An introduction to theory and methods. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Boyer, W.A.R. (1997/1998). Playfulness enhancement through classroom intervention for the 21st century. Childhood Education, 74(2), 90–96. Burgess, R.G. (Ed.). (1982). Field research: A sourced book and field manual. London: Allen & Unwin. Christie, J., & Wardle, F. (1992). How much time is needed for play? Young Children, 47(3), 28–32. Cooney, M.H. (1995). The rules, roles, and rituals of play in a full day kindergarten program for at-risk children. (Doctoral dissertation, University of Wyoming, 1994). Dissertation Abstracts International, 55(7), 1817A. Cunningham, B. & Wiegel, J. (1992). Preschool work and play activities: Child and teacher perspectives. Play & Culture, 5, 92–99. DeVries, R. & Zan, B. (1994). Moral classroom, moral children: Creating a constructivist atmosphere in early education. New York: Teachers College Press. Erickson, F. (1986). Qualitative methods in research on teaching. In M.C. Wittrock (Ed.), Handbook of research on teaching (3rd Ed.) (pp. 119–161). New York: Macmillan. Erlandson, D.A., Harris, E.L., Skipper, B.L., & Allen, S.D. (1993). Doing naturalistic inquiry: A guide to methods. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications. Fein, G. (1981). Pretend Play in Childhood: An Integrative Review. Childhood Development, 52(4), 1095–1118. Frobel, F.W. (1877). The education of man. New York: Appleton. Hohmann, M., Banet, B., & Weikart, D. (1979). Young children in action: A manual for preschool educators. Ypsilanti, MI: High/Scope Press. Holmes, R.M. (1991). Categories of Play: A kindergartner’s view. Play & Culture, 4, 43–50. Hutt, S.J., Tyler, S., Hutt, C., & Christopherson, H. (1989). Play, exploration, and learning. London: Routledge. Johnson, J. (1997). Work and play judgments in early childhood education. Paper presented at International Council for Children’s Play, Lisbon, Portugal.

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Keating, I., Fabian, H., Jordan, P., Mavers, J., and Roberts, J. (2000). Well I’ve not done any work today. I don’t know why I came to school. Perceptions of play in the receptions class, Educational Studies, 26(4), 437–454. Karrby, G. (1989). Children’s conceptions of their own play. International Journal of Early Childhood Education, 21(2), 49–54. King, N.R. (1979). Play: The kindergarteners’ perspective. The Elementary School Journal, 80(2), 81–87. King. N.R. (1982a). Work and play in the classroom. Social Education, 46(2), 110–113. King, N.R. (1982b). School uses of materials traditionally associated with children’s play. Theories and Research in Social Education, 10(3), 17–27. Lally, M. (1991). The nursery teacher in action. London: Paul Chapman. Lincoln, Y.S., & Guba, E. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. Newbury Park: CA: Sage. Marshall, C. & Rossman, G.B. (1995). Desiging qualitative research. (2nd Ed) Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Patte, M.M. (2002). Defining parent involvement in rural elementary school through the eyes of parents, students, teachers, and administration: A case study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, The Pennsylvania State University, University Park. Patton, M.Q. (1990). Qualitative evaluation and research methods. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Pellegrini, A.L. (1995). School recess and playground behavior: Educational & developmental roles. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Perlmutter, J.C., & Burrell, L. (1995). Learning through “play” as well as “work” in the primary grades. Young Children, 50(5), 14–21. Robson, S. (1993). “Best of all I like choosing time” Talking with children about play and work. Early Childhood Development and Care, 92, 37–51. Skrupskelis, A. (2000). A historical trend to eliminate recess. In R. L. Clements (Ed.), Elementary School Recess: Selected Readings, Games, and Activities for Teachers and Parents (pp. 124–126). Boston: American Press. Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. (1990). Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory and practices and techniques. California: Sage Publications. Taylor, S.J., & Bogdan, R. (1984). Introduction to qualitative research methods. (2nd Ed.) New York: Wiley. Tonnies, F. (1957). Community and society (gemeinschaft and gesellshchaft). (C.P. Loomis, trans. and Ed). New York: Harper & Row. (Originally published in 1887). U.S. Department of Education. (2002). Executive Summary of the No Child Left Behind Act. Retrieved http://www.ed.gov/print/nclb/overview/intro/execsumm.html. Wing, L. A. (1995). Play is not the work of the child: Young children’s perceptions of work and play. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 10(2), 223–247. Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society. Cambridge. MA: Harvard University Press.

Chapter Eight

Measuring Playfulness and Extracurricular Involvement Marianne B. Staempfli

It is generally understood that a person’s manifestation of playfulness is a result of the interrelationship between genetic make-up and environmental circumstances, and the experience gained from these relationships (Barnett, 1991; Glynn & Webster, 1992). Some researchers propose that personality traits (playfulness or otherwise) are responsible for the majority of a person’s behaviour (Lykken & Tellegen, 1993). Others maintain that child-rearing practices and the larger social and physical context in which a child lives and develops are superior influences on individual differences in behaviour and development (Bronfenbrenner & Ceci, 1994). Individual behaviour and experiences seem to be especially sensitive to contextual circumstances during adolescence (Emmons, Diener & Larsen, 1986; Lieberman, 1975). The premise of the present study, therefore, was to further investigate the personality-environment relationship by focusing on adolescent playfulness across different activities engaged in at school. More specifically, the objective was to examine the degree to which playful adolescents are involved in extracurricular activities and if a difference exists in their perceived level of satisfaction while engaged in these activities. The conceptualization and development of this study was guided by developmental theory (e.g., Bronfenbrenner & Ceci, 1994) and the notion that personality traits interact with environmental experiences thus influencing personal development and psychological outcomes. As such, people’s behaviour and experiences can best be understood by considering both the influence of the social situation, in this case school, and what the person brings (personality disposition, personal experiences) to the situation.

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REVIEW OF LITERATURE Over the years, play has been studied widely in children, in adolescents and to some degree in adults. Playfulness in contrast, has gained much less attention. Yet in order to gain a comprehensive understanding of play it is important to also focus on the internal qualities of the individual that make play possible (Barnett, 2005). For that reason increased attention has been given to the measurement of playfulness in order to better understand a person’s playful disposition and play behaviour. According to Barnett (1991b), a person with a playful disposition “is guided by internal motivation, an orientation towards process with self-imposed goals, a tendency to attribute their own meaning to objects or behaviours, a focus on pretence and non-literality, a freedom from externally imposed rules, and active involvement” (p. 52). Measuring Playfulness From its inception, playfulness research focused primarily on children ranging in age from infancy to pre-adolescence (Barnett, 1990; Barnett & Kleiber, 1982; Bundy, Nelson, Metzger, & Bingaman, 2001). Playfulness has been examined in adult populations to a much lesser extent and even less frequently in adolescent populations. Traditionally, research on play and playfulness with children was based on observational measures. Studies considered frequency counts of specific behaviours of children at play (Barnett, 1991b; Bundy, 1997; Lieberman, 1967; Saunders et al., 1999), or assessed the environmental support available to children at play (Bundy, 1999; Roger, Impara, Frary, Harris, & Meeks, 1998). Some studies looked at the specific skills of the child at play (Bledsoe & Shepherd, 1982), or focused on people’s developmental history (Takata, 1974). Measures for playfulness in adults are typically based on self-report scales (Bundy, 1992; Glynn & Webster, 1993). In contrast, a review of the published literature revealed that there is an apparent lack of an age appropriate instrument to assess playfulness in adolescents and little or no data have been reported. Observations from past research with children and youth suggest that to effectively capture human perceptions or experiences it is essential to develop measurement instruments taking into account the vantage point of the participants one intends to research (Lightfoot, 1997). In terms of personality research it is particularly beneficial to use everyday language and laypersons terms when describing a particular construct (Matthews, Deary & Whiteman, 2003). For that reason, and for the purpose of this study, a playfulness scale was developed from the vantage point of teens, as it is expected that an age

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appropriate scale would be superior in capturing this specific personality trait. In the context of this study, adolescents are defined as young people between the ages of thirteen and eighteen years old. Playfulness and School Personality traits become more noticeable when social situations are familiar, informal, or private and instructions are minimal. In comparison, the stronger the demands of a social situation, the less likely individual differences and personality traits influence experience and behaviour (Mannell & Kleiber, 1997). Research confirmed that adolescents are particularly expressive of their playful tendencies during familiar social interactions (Graham & Jardine, 1990; Lieberman, 1967; Truhon, 1983). It is believed that activities that fulfill this need of social togetherness result in higher satisfaction due to the need-satisfying properties of these activities (Tinsley & Eldredge, 1995). Since various activities do not all meet the psychological needs of the participants, it is hypothesized that social activities, compared to other activities, would result in notably higher satisfaction for playful teens. In the context of school, adolescents exhibit different types of playful behaviour (Graham & Jardine, 1990; Lieberman, 1967; Truhon, 1983). Lieberman (1967) distinguished between academic playfulness and social-emotional playfulness, whereas Truhon (1983) differentiated between playfulness-intelligence and playfulness-fun. Graham and Jardine (1990) observed that in-class playfulness typically takes the form of verbal comments exchanged during lessons, symbolizing a type of playful resistance to the teacher’s authority. Teachers typically perceive verbal resistance as not being constructive to the learning environment due to its disruptive nature (Lieberman, 1967). As a result, students are typically socialized to be less demonstratively playful during class time. During out-of class time a more overt type of playfulness may be exhibited in the form of ludic actions. It is assumed that adolescents who engage in playful verbal resistance in-class and who receive negative feedback from class members or teachers are less likely to have a positive school experience. Research supports that a negative in-class experience often results in a lower level of involvement in extracurricular activities and to noticeably reduce the students overall satisfaction with school (Gifford & Dean, 1990; Holland & Andre, 1987; Staempfli, 2000). For that reason it is hypothesized that the degree to which playful teens experience school satisfaction is, among other factors, dependent on the fit between a need for playfulness and the opportunities perceived by the teen for playful expressions.

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FOCUS OF THE PRESENT STUDY The focus of this study was to assess if playfulness as a specific personality trait enhances extracurricular activity involvement and if such engagements lead to higher levels of school satisfaction. The analyses were in part guided by previous research. It was hypothesized that playful teens would particularly seek out extracurricular activities that would promote opportunities for social interaction. It was further hypothesized that if adolescents’ playful needs are realized then they would experience higher levels of school satisfaction compared to teens whose needs could not be satisfied. METHOD Research Participants Data were collected from a total of 236 adolescents who participated in the study, 93 females (40%) and 143 males (60%). Two individuals did not indicate their gender but were included in the data set. All participants were students enrolled in physical education classes in a junior high school and a senior high school in a southwestern Ontario city. Data was collected through convenience sampling. The age of participants ranged from 13 to 18 years old. For the purpose of certain analyses adolescents were grouped into three different age categories; 13 to 14 years old (35%), 15 to 16 years old (27%), and 17 to 18 years old (38%). This categorization was done because a review of the literature suggested that different age groups are typically involved in different patterns of extracurricular activities. Since the local school board decided which schools and which classes would participate in the study and since individual student participation was voluntary, an unequal distribution of age and gender occurred. Instrumentation The study followed a multi-phase, multi-method approach. First, a scale was developed to assess adolescent’s ratings of playfulness. For that reason, a purposive sample of twelve students age 13 to 18 (8 girls, 4 boys) were interviewed to gain a better understanding of playfulness from the vantage point of the youth. A semi-structured interview process was followed (Kirby & McKenna, 1989) in which students were asked to describe the meaning of playfulness and if they could identify any gender specific manifestations of this trait. All interviews were transcribed and the responses content analyzed, categorized and transformed into short, verbal statements, and subsequently included in the item pool from which the 5-point Likert scale was created.

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The list of initial items was evaluated for content and face validity. Adjustments were made to reduce redundancy of statements and to clarify wording and content of items. Finally, the reduced item pool was pilot-tested with sixty junior high school and high school students ranging in age from 13 to 18 years old. Participants for the pilot test were chosen by convenience sampling and were not included in the second phase of the study. Psychometric qualities of the preliminary scale were evaluated, including internal consistency of the playfulness scale (alpha reliability coefficient r  .90) and item-total correlations (ranged from .42 to .69). At last, 20 items with good corrected item-total correlations were selected to construct the Adolescent Playfulness Scale. These items included: • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I like to play and horse around with my friends When I hang out with friends, we usually like to play around. I like to be physically active. Being physically active keeps me stimulated and motivated. By being playful it is easier to get along with people. I like to interact with people in a playful way. I like to make people laugh. I feel comfortable joking around with others. I like to imagine myself and other people in funny situations. I like to play with ideas. I have an active imagination. I like to imagine myself as being different people or different characters. I like to sing and hum out loud when I am happy. I laugh and smile a lot. My friends can tell when I am having a good time. In most situations I express my emotions freely. I like to clown around. I can usually find something to laugh and joke about in difficult situations. I can find something comical or humorous in most situations. I like to tell funny stories.

A survey questionnaire was also developed to assess and distinguish between different levels of playfulness and to investigate the relationship between adolescent playfulness, extracurricular involvement and school experience. Extracurricular involvement was assessed by the number of activities engaged in and by number of hours of engagement per week. School satisfaction was measured by looking at an overall school attitude score (a composite measure including four variables: “I like to go to school,” “It is important to do well at school,” “I like to go to College or University,” “I am satisfied with my school performance”), students’ overall grade point

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average, and students’ perceived opportunity to be playful during class time. Adolescent playfulness was measured with the APF20. The APF20 is based on a 5-point Likert-type response format ranging from 1 ‘almost never true for me’ to 5 ‘almost always true for me.’ Also, a number of questions referring to the participants’ general demographic background were included such as age, gender and volunteer work in the community. A process of active consent was used to select individual students for participation. After securing parental and student consent, the questionnaire was administered by classroom teachers to students in physical education classes in three junior and two senior high schools. RESULTS First, an overview of the semi-structured interviews will be provided, followed by a detailed description of the qualitative analyses of the relationship between playfulness and extracurricular involvement. Interviews The purpose of the interviews was two-fold: first to gain a better understanding of playfulness from the vantage point of adolescents and secondly to develop an item pool for the subsequent development of an adolescent playfulness scale. At the beginning of the interviews adolescents mentioned that they had never really thought about the importance of play or playfulness in their lives but were excited to learn more about this topic in relation to their own personality. The self-described playful teens got very excited talking about this topic, while the non-playful teens were rather surprised to learn that they had no real desire to be playful and that they had a low tolerance for playful people in their life. Some teens mentioned that any person at any age could be playful and that everyone is playful to some degree or another. Others considered playfulness to be exclusively a characteristic of children (and animals) and not something that would characterize adults. When asked about the different forms of playfulness one youth said that wittiness with words is a particular type of playfulness, while others considered playfulness as a means for emotional or physical expression. A high level of self-confidence was identified as being an important pre-requisite for youth to express this trait feely. They believed that a shy person is not likely to express playfulness unless s/he is in the company of very close friends and in an unstructured or familiar environment. The youth were rather specific about gender difference. They agreed that boys use a physical, rough slap-on-the-back, sexual type of playfulness that was considered universal among most boys. In contrast, girls seem to

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engage in an emotional, flirtatious, caring, touchy-feely-type of playfulness believed to be very individually different and more reflective of an individual’s personality. Just as distinctive are playful expressions across different contexts. The respondents mentioned that at school, a playful teacher generally encourages a playful classroom environment, which makes for a more comfortable learning environment. However it was collectively agreed that in-class time is primarily a time for work. As such, playful behaviour should be engaged sparingly to prevent the distraction of pupils and teachers alike. Even during recess, or while participating in extracurricular activities, a specific code of conduct is preventing a free expression of playfulness. Playfulness is most feely expressed during leisure yet the teens mentioned that their behaviour is still people and situation dependent. By and large, adolescents felt that being playful is an important means for relaxing, for making and interacting with friends, for socializing and for being socialized into culture specific behaviour codes of conduct. Information from these interviews was used to create an item pool from which a playfulness scale was developed that was incorporated into the survey questionnaire. Extracurricular Involvement The purpose of the second phase of the study was to examine the relationship between playfulness and extracurricular involvement. Overall, the youth participated in one to two extracurricular activities per week, with a time commitment of approximately 6 hours per week. One-third of the teens did not participate in any extracurricular activity (20% males, 10% females). Fortytwo percent participated in one activity (30% males, 12% females), 19% in two activities, 7% in three activities and a few in four activities or more. Participation in sports teams was the activity most frequently engaged in (53.3%), followed by drama/theatre clubs (8.3%) and outdoor clubs (8.3%), student council (7.9%) music band /orchestra (6.6%), and choir (2.9%). Other activities were math and science club, games club, dance, yearbook, debating, photography, language club, social issues, martial arts and robotics club. A number of gender and age differences were observed in relation to type of activity and degree of involvement. Overall, females were significantly more involved compared to males (r  .163, p  .05) but no significant difference was observed in terms of age of youth and their level of involvement. Participation in sports teams for males increased steadily from age 13 to age 18. For females, participation in sports teams was lowest at age 15 to 16 and highest for the youngest age group. Participation in outdoor clubs, choir and student council was generally lower for males, yet slightly more males took part in music bands and orchestras (See Table 8.1).

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Table 8.1. Extracurricular Involvement by Age and Gender Age Type of Activity

Gender (%)

Sport teams

Female Male Female Male Female Male Female Male Female Male Female Male

Drama/Theater Outdoors club Student Council Music (Band/orchestra) Choir

13–14

15–16

30 14 3 3 6 0 5 2 2 2 5 0

9 18 2 1 1 4 3 0 1 1 0 0

17–18 15 21 3 4 4 2 2 2 1 5 2 0

Overall (%) 53.3 8.3 8.3 7.9 6.6 2.9

Playfulness and Extracurricular Involvement Playfulness was measured with the APF20 based on a 5-point Likert scale format. The average measure of playfulness was 3.67 (range between 1–4.95). Thirty-five percent of teens were rated as not very playful (pf level between 1–3.4) and thirty-three percent as very playful (range between 3.96–5.0). Playful teens were significantly more involved (r  .18, p  .001) in extracurricular activities and for longer hours (r  .17, p  .05) compared to less playful teens; their involvement, however, was activity specific. The only activity in which playful teens were significantly more involved at school was sports teams (r  .22, p  .01).1 No significant difference was observed for all the other extracurricular activities. Hierarchical regression analyses were carried out to assess the relationship between extracurricular activities and playfulness when controlling for gender, age, and hours of involvement, grade point average and level of self-confidence. Total level of involvement does not seem to be affected by age of the teens and their level of self-confidence. But significantly more females (  .16, p  .05) were involved in extracurricular activities Also, grade point average (  .23, p  .05) and overall hours of involvement (  .20, p  .05) seem to significantly reduce the number of activities playful youth are engaged in at school. Playfulness and School Satisfaction Analyses for school satisfaction and playfulness revealed that students with a positive school attitude showed significantly higher levels of extracurricular involvement (r  .26, p  .001). Yet the only extracurricular activity

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that significantly enhanced a positive school attitude was an involvement in physical activity and sports teams (r  .15, p.  .05). Playful teens like to go to school (r  .19, p.  .05)), they take school seriously (r  .16, p.  .05) and regard secondary education as important (r  .25, p  .001). They also perceive to have adequate opportunities to be playful during class (r  .30, p  .001) and have a high level of self-confidence (r  .33, p  .001). Playfulness was positively related to school attitude (r  .24, p.  001) but unrelated with school performance (GPA). However, hierarchical regression analyses showed that GPA (  .50, p  .001) was almost five times as likely to negatively effect school attitude compared to age (  –.18, p  .05) and gender (  .15, p  .05) or playfulness. Younger students (  .17, p  .05) and female students (  .14, p <.05) had a more positive attitude towards school (See Table 8.2).

Table 8.2. School variables and playfulness (Means, correlations, and regression) Mean (1–5)

Playfulness (r)

School attitude (overall).

3.7

.24**

Overall GPA.

3.0

NS

Are you satisfied with school performance?

3.4

NS

Is it important to go to college or university.

4.2

.25**

I like to go to school.

3.1

.19*

It is important to do well in school.

4.3

.16*

Self-confidence

3.7

.30**

Do you have the opportunity to be playful during class?

3.1

.30**

School Variables

1

**p < 0.001 *p < 0.05

2

Regression Coefficient (Standardized Beta values) gender age PF gender age PF gender Age PF gender age PF gender age PF gender age PF gender age PF gender age PF

                       

                       

.18**1 .21** .22** .15*2 .00 .06 .13* .14* .05 .19* .19* .15* .13* .02 .19* .13* .19* .15* .15* .06 .32** .03 .18* .30**

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DISCUSSION Results from interviews showed that adolescents have a clear understanding of playfulness as well as the different manifestations of this trait across gender and context. Lieberman (1971) made similar observations. She concluded that during adolescence obvious variations in the expression of playfulness exists across context. In addition, observations with children revealed that playful children show attributes of being physically active, adventurous and that they express positive attitudes and humour in their social interactions (Singer & Rummor, 1973). Findings from the present study suggest that playful teens seem to particularly enjoy, or have a need for, physical activity and social togetherness. In fact, physical activities and sports were the only activities that playful teens were significantly more involved in at school than less playful teens.2 These findings are contrary to the hypothesis that playful teens would be particularly attracted to activities that offer opportunities for social togetherness. Although sports team participation provide opportunities for social togetherness it appears that first and foremost playful teens have a strong need to be physically active. Furthermore, it was assumed that school satisfaction would be significantly higher for playful teens that experience a balance between their need for playfulness and the perceived opportunities to be playful at school. Correlational analyses support this assumption. Although playful teens appeared to have plenty of opportunities in-class as well as during extracurricular activities to be playful, interviews showed that they were well aware that such behaviour is not always appropriate due to its potentially disruptive nature. This realization might be part of the reason why they seem to take school and their future education seriously despite not having better grades or being more satisfied with their school performance compared to less playful teens. What appears to have a particularly strong influence on school attitude, regardless of level of playfulness, is the students overall grade point average; the lower the grade point average the less positive the students attitude towards school, particularly for older students and for males. One may speculate that an improvement in GPA would change a students’ attitude towards school, however the sequence of such events is impossible to interpret without the engagement of a longitudinal, follow-up study. It was interesting that during interviews self-confidence was identified as being an important pre-requisite for an expression of playfulness. Although a positive correlation between playfulness and self-confidence was measured, level of self-confidence did not seem to influence extracurricular involvement or school satisfaction for this sample group.

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CONCLUSION The purpose of the study was to gain a more in-depth understanding of playfulness from the perspective of youth and to evaluate the relationship between playfulness and extracurricular involvement. For that reason, playfulness was assessed qualitatively by way of interviewing teens, as well as quantitatively with the newly developed playfulness scale. What could be learned is that adolescents have a clear understanding of playfulness and its different manifestations across gender and context. Analyses revealed that, contrary to expectations, playfulness appears to have a positive direct relationship with extracurricular involvement and school satisfaction but only in terms of physical activities and sports team participation. It is important to note a possible limitation of this study. Research participants were chosen from a sample of physical education students, which could have resulted in an overrepresentation of students who enjoy physical activities. Future analyses should include adolescents from different educational backgrounds and activity preferences. It would also be beneficial to conduct longitudinal studies to further explore the relationship between personality and environmental variables and the role of playfulness across context and developmental stages.

NOTES 1. A similar trend was observed for leisure involvement: the only activity where playful teens were significantly more involved compared to non-playful teens was in regards to physical activities. 2. This finding was true for leisure time as well.

REFERENCES Barnett, L. (1990). Playfulness: Definition, design, and measurement. Play and Culture, 3, 319–336. Barnett, L. (1991a). Developmental benefits of play for children. In B. L. Driver, P. J. Brown, & G. L. Peterson (Eds.), Benefits of leisure. State College Pennsylvania: Venture Publishing Inc. Barnett, L. (1991b). The playful child: Measurement of a disposition to play. Play and Culture, 4, 51–74. Barnett, L. (2005). Focusing on the player: Defining and measuring playfulness in young adults. Unpublished document.

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Barnett, L., & Kleiber, D. (1982). Contaminants of playfulness in early childhood: Cognitive abilities and gender. The Journal of Genetic Psychology, 141, 115–127. Bledsoe, N., & Shepherd, J. (1982). A study of reliability and validity of a preschool play scale. American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 36, 783–788. Bronfenbrenner, U., & Ceci, S. (1994). Nature-nurture reconceptualized in developmental perspective: A bioecological model. Psychological Review, 101(4), 568–586. Bundy, A. (1992). Assessment of play and leisure: Delineation of the problem. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 47(3), 217–222. Bundy, A. (1997). Play and playfulness: What to look for. In L. Parham, & L. Fazio (Eds.), Play and occupational therapy for children, (pp. 52–66). St. Louis: Mosby. Bundy, A. (1999). Test of environmental supportiveness. Ft. Collins, CO: Colorado State University. Bundy, A., Nelson, L., Metzger, M., & Bingaman, K. (2001). Validity and reliability of a test of playfulness. Occupational Therapy Journal of Research, 21(4), 276–284. Emmons, R., Diener, E., & Larsen, R. (1986). Choice and avoidance of everyday situations and affect congruence: Two models of reciprocal interactionism. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 51, 815–826. Gifford, V. D., & Dean, M. M. (1990). Difference in extracurricular activity participation, achievement, and attitudes toward school between ninth-grade students attending junior high-school and those attending senior high school. Adolescence, 15(100), 799–802. Glynn, M. A., & Webster, J. (1992). The adult playfulness scale: An initial assessment. Psychological Reports, 71, 83–103. Glynn, M. A., & Webster, J. (1993). Refining the nomological net of the adult playfulness scale: Personality, motivational, and attitudinal correlates for highly intelligent adults. Psychological Reports, 72, 1023–1026. Graham, P., & Jardine, D. (1990). Deviance, resistance, and play: A study in the communicative organization of trouble in class. Curriculum Inquiry, 20(3), 283–304. Holland, A., & Andre, T. (1987). Participation in Extracurricular Activities in Secondary School: What Is Known, What Needs to Be Known? Review of Educational Research, 57(4), 437–466. Kirby, S., & McKenna, K. (1989). Experience, research, social change: Methods from the margins. Toronto, Canada: Garamond Press. Lieberman, J. N. (1967). Personality traits in adolescence: An investigation of playfulness-nonplayfulness in the High school setting. ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED 032584, 1–97. Lieberman, J. N. (1971). Playfulness and creativity: Some developmental and situational aspects. ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED 050368, 1–10. Lieberman, J. N. (1975). Playfulness, cognitive style, and leisure, or “Do we need to educate for leisure”? ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED 119070, 1–12.

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Lykken, D. T., & Tellegen, A. (1993). Heritability of interests: A twin study of mate selection. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 65, 56–68. Mannell, R. C., & Kleiber, D. A. (1997). A social psychology of leisure. State College, PA: Venture Publishing, Inc. Matthews, G., Deary, I., & Whiteman, M. (2003). Personality Traits. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Roger, C., Impara, J., Frary, B., Harris, T., Meeks, A., Semanic-Lauth, S. et al. (1998). Measuring playfulness: Development of the child behaviours inventory of playfulness. Play & Culture Studies, 1, 121–135. Saunders, I., Sayer, M., & Goodale, A. (1999). The relationship between playfulness and coping in preschool children: A pilot study. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy, 53(2), 221–226. Singer, D., & Rummo, J. (1973). Ideational creativity and behavioural style in kindergarten aged children. Developmental Psychology, 8, 154–161. Staempfli, M. (2000). The association between extracurricular involvement, selfesteem and leadership skills among University peer leaders. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Guelph, Guelph, ON, Canada. Takata, N. (1974). Play as a prescription. In M. Reilly (Ed.), Play as exploratory learning, (pp. 209–246). Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Tinsley, H., & Eldredge, B. (1995). Psychological benefits of leisure participation: A taxonomy of leisure activities based on their need-gratifying properties. Journal of Counselling Psychology, 42(2), 123–132. Truhon, S. (1983). Playfulness, play, and creativity: A path analytic model. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 143, 19–28.

Chapter Nine

The Red Hat Society®: An Exploration of Play and Masking in Older Women’s Lives Careen Mackay Yarnal, Deborah Kerstetter, Garry Chick, and Susan Hutchinson “Serious scholars typically ignore play: the exceptions also find themselves ignored.” (Burghardt, 2005, p. 6)

Do older women play? Does masking (i.e., disguise that conceals face and identity) by wearing red hats and purple outfits facilitate older women’s play? Why should we care? First, there are many misconceptions about play (Rieber, 1996). One of the foremost is that play is for children not adults (e.g., Burghardt, 2005; Provost, 1990; Sutton-Smith; 1997). In fact, Rieber (1996) suggests that, “There is a sense of risk attached to suggesting an adult is at play. Work is respectable, play is not” (p. 2). There is an extensive literature on the benefits of children’s play, including documentation on motor and physiological development, better social skills, improved cognitive abilities, and greater creativity (e.g., Berlyne, 1960; Ellis, 1973; Piaget, 1951; Schwartzman, 1978; Sutton-Smith, 1997). Is it possible that play has similar functions for older adults (Cheang, 2002)? Second, we should care because we know little about the role of play in life transitions and successful aging of older women (Heuser, 2005; Wearing, 1995). This is unfortunate because by 2030 one in four American women will be over the age of 65. And, women who reach the current retirement age of 65 will, on average, live an additional 19 years (CDC: Center for Disease Control, 2004). How will older women manage their years beyond sexual maturity and paid work? Third, we should care about the role of masking in older women’s lives because it may facilitate play for older women (Ulrich, 1989; Ware, 2001). Ulrich (1989) argued that masking is critical to play because it fosters role 144

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reversal, identity change, and the opportunity for creative, experimental behavior. [On Halloween] when a child puts on a vampire costume, you can bet that sometime, somewhere, someone’s going to get bitten. Masks transform adults in a similar way . . . I have seen a group of fully grown women cackle all night behind witches images . . . In play these children and adults are able to become something they are not; something they cannot be. How much more powerful, then, must a mask be when the transformation is considered ‘real’? (p. 2)

In short, important, unanswered questions remain about older women’s play and the role of masking in play. Thus, the primary purpose of this study is to use the Red Hat Society® as a context for examining the meaning of play in older women’s lives. A secondary purpose is to explore the role of masking in older women’s play. The Red Hat Society® is a leisure-based social group for women over age 50. With a membership of over 1,000,000, the Society’s mission is to play, be silly, and foster women’s friendship (Cooper, 2004). We begin by laying out the conceptual framework for evaluating this group through a brief overview of the literature on play and masking. Descriptions of the Red Hat Society® context and data collection and analysis procedures follow. After discussing the results of the study, we conclude by considering the findings in the context of literatures on women’s aging, play, and masking, and by suggesting directions for future research.

PLAY’S MEANING AND THE MEANING OF PLAY Defining Play There is limited agreement on how to define play and its purposes (e.g., Babcock, 1972; Burghardt, 2005; Schechner, 1988; Schwartzman, 1978; SuttonSmith, 1997; Turner, 1982). However, there is consensus that play exhibits certain characteristics that differentiate it from other types of activity (e.g., Bekoff & Byers, 1998; Chick, 2001; Spariosu, 1997). In the field of leisure studies, for example, one of the most widely referenced texts on play is Homo Ludens: A study of the play element in culture (Huizinga, 1950). As Henricks (2002) notes, “More successfully than anyone else, Huizinga brought play into view as a key element in the make-up of society” (p. 36). Thus, we adopt Huizinga’s play framework in this manuscript for two reasons. First, it serves as a heuristic, a place to start, an organizing mechanism, because as Rieber (1996) pointed out, “Play is a difficult concept to define. Play appears to be one of those constructs that is obvious at the tacit level but extremely

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difficult to articulate in concrete terms” (p. 44). In addition, Huizinga’s work is unusual because of its focus on adult play. Second, Huizinga provides an easily understood list of characteristics that conceptually separate play from other types of activity (Henricks, 2002). So, what did Huizinga (1950) think was central to play? First, he argued play is not ordinary life. Play only occurs outside of, and separate from, obligatory day-to-day activities like work; a separate sphere with its own spatial and temporal rhythms play does not conform to the rational structures of mundane life (Burghardt, 2005; Sutton-Smith, 1997). Second, play is symbiotic; the act of engaging in play fosters “stepping out” (Huizinga, 1950, p. 8) of everyday life and distancing from normal life fosters play. Third, play is voluntary; force is not conducive to play. Fourth, play is fun, and often involves publicly playful, exaggerated behavior. By signaling, “this is play,” (Huizinga, 1950, p. 8) players recognize it is only pretend or make believe (e.g., Deflem, 1991; Pelligrini, 1995). Yet, it is a misconception to assume that play is only pretend and trivial or merely the polar opposite of seriousness or work. Play often has significant consequences for players and audiences alike. Huizinga linked play to pleasant activities like poetry and dance, but he also linked play to serious activities like religious ritual, war, and the law. He argued, for example, that the court of law bears marked resemblance to a tennis court. “Both are consecrated spots, cut off from the ordinary world by costume, rules, and terminology” (Henricks, 2002, p. 45). Both involve play, playful behaviors, and masking: judges adjudicate in courts of law, use gavels, and dress in wigs and robes; tennis players play on courts, use racquets, and wear “whites.” Fifth, with an uncertain outcome, the ambiguity of play makes it an engrossing, even dangerous activity. Paradoxically, freedom from the constraints of mundane life means players can focus on playing; yet, complete absorption in play means players are vulnerable to the unpredictability of the outside world. Injuries, even death, occur in the context of play (Burghardt, 2005). Sixth, governed by rules, play embraces order. Huizinga argued, however, that the rules of play are different and may not make sense in mundane life. He further contended that this is one of the liberating qualities of play. Once players accept the rules, players trust each other and they become “relatively relaxed and secure” (Spinka, Newberry, & Bekoff, 2001, p. 144). In addition, accepting the rules means that individual play can be unscripted, tense, exciting, unexpected, and exploratory. Thus, play is a context for disorder, muddle, and inversion of roles and identities (e.g., Chick, 2005; Chick & Dong, 2005; Spinka, et al., 2001). Finally, as Huizinga sees it, play is social, in that, “[Play] creates social awareness between players and even between players and . . . an admiring public” (Henricks, 2002, p. 38).

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Play also allows players and the public to explore the tensions created by society’s value systems (Roberts & Sutton-Smith, 1962). Play, therefore, “tends to either reaffirm basic societal values or to oppose them in (typically) sanctioned ways” (Henricks, 2002, p. 42). Inconsistencies thread their way through Huizinga’s (1950) work, however (e.g., Chick, 2001; Duncan, 1988; Gruneau, 1983; Yarnal, 2004). For example, there are criticisms of Huizinga’s focus on male play; women, children, and the elderly are not part of Huizinga’s “rarefied” play sphere (Duncan, 1988, p. 42). Similarly, Sutton-Smith (1986) notes that Huizinga’s insistence that play is apart from ordinary life is “romantic” and idealized; play can erupt anywhere, anytime, and can vary in duration from telling a joke to a life time hobby of collecting vintage clothing, for instance (p. 4). Others observe that Huizinga’s study is on play as an “agonistic” (i.e., socially competitive) form of play and disregards social, cooperative, bonding styles of play (Bekoff & Byers, 1998; Yarnal, 2004). Sutton-Smith (1997) also challenged Huizinga’s emphasis on rule-bound play at the expense of spontaneous play. The purpose of this paper therefore, is to present (a) a correction to Huizinga’s initial agonistic framework and (b) an effort to develop a more inclusive conceptualization of play that recognizes the contributions of older women. Facilitating Play Through Masking Huizinga stressed that players frequently set themselves apart from non-players by masking, which may include distinguishing dress or costumes, different use of language or ways of referring to one another, and the adoption of playing equipment or adornments (e.g., Sawin, 2001; Ware, 2001). Huizinga explained, “The disguised or masked individual plays another part, another being. He is another being” (Huizinga, 1950, p. 13) He goes on to write that, “Even for the cultured adult of today, the mask still retains something of its terrifying power . . . The sight of the masked figure carries us beyond ‘ordinary life’ . . . to the world of play” (p. 26). Henricks also notes the importance of masking when he writes that, “The theme of disguise is especially important [to play], for masking facilitates both the departure from the old world and the creation of an altered identity that is necessary in the new one” (2002, p.13). Caillois (1961) extended Huizinga’s thinking on masking. Caillois argued that uniforms are the complete antithesis of masks. Because they cover the face, masks symbolize play, freedom, and individuality. The face behind a mask can assume any form. In contrast, because uniforms leave the face uncovered, they symbolize servitude, authority, and conformity. “The bare face behind a uniform “[must] reveal nothing but rationality and calm” (p. 132).

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Why Do People Wear Masks? The literature on masking is extensive (e.g., Crocker, 1982; Lindhal & Ware, 1997; Nunley & McCarty, 1999; Sawin, 2001; Toll, 1974; Wissler, 1950). Masks are often defined as disguise that partially or completely cover the face. Pernet (1992) stressed, however, that this conceptualization limits our understanding of the potential power of masks. He contends that masks can also include: painting on the head or body; tattoos, headdresses, hats, or ornaments worn on the top of the head; helmets that surround the head leaving the face uncovered; a costume that distracts attention from the face; and, entire or partial disguises of the body or face. In addition, Nunley and McCarty (1999) added that masking is much more than simply donning a mask. Masking is a public social process that involves creators or artists, a context or setting, performance and/or entertainment, and possibly instruction of participants and audiences about the masking process. Theories about why masking occurs fall into six categories (Nunley & McCarty, 1999). First, individuals wear masks during cycles of renewal to mark seasonal changes such as the planting of new crops or the advent of a new year. Second, masks are involved in rites of passage during times of change or transition, such as the evolution from adolescence to adulthood. Third, individuals don masks for transformation, a way to change, reveal, or disguise personality, identity or role. Some cultures believe that spirits and creatures have powers humans do not have. They hope masks will transform them into a wise owl, strong bear, or fast deer. Fourth, masks act as protection, a shield against harm. Threatened communities will sometimes call upon shamans to don “armor” to battle evil forces. Fifth, masks are worn for social control; some African dancers wear masks representing visiting deities as a way to remind audiences of moral order. Finally, individuals wear masks for dramatic, theatrical effect, a way to act out of character, have fun, and “play” with ordinary life. Ancelet (1989) writes that, “[In wearing a mask] otherwise serious people can be transformed into clowns and timid people into leaders” (p. 2). Most literature on masking deals with male masking because “men dominate masking practices” (Nunley & McCarty, 1999, p. 16). For instance, Dogon society forbids men and women to converse about masks, and women must not express doubt about explanations given by men for male masking practices (Pernet, 1992). In other societies, women are associated with mask preparation and/or the care and preservation of masks. Women care for masks used in the Yehbechai ceremony among the Navajo (Newcomb, 1956). Similarly, wives of chiefs and wives of heads of initiation societies are sometimes privy to the secrets of masks (e.g., Bastin, 1984). Pernet (1992) noted, however, that examples of women creating masks for personal adornment

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are limited. Furthermore, “little information exists about these ceremonies or about the symbolism and the exact meaning of the masks that perform on these occasions” (p. 147). A study by Ware (2001) supports Pernet’s argument. Ware stated that in the long history of Cajun Mardi Gras, the presence of female maskers is a recent phenomenon. “Women were once limited to the sidelines . . .. Years ago masking was a male art, but now many female Mardi Gras create [and wear] their own masks every year” (p. 225). Ware (2001) found that women wear masks for disguise, playing with gender roles, inverting age and race, and playing with feminine ideals. She also argued that far from insignificant, women’s masking is a public way of making social commentary; it enables women to cross social boundaries that would otherwise be “at odds with traditional expectations of women’s behavior and appearance” (p. 240). This finding stands in stark contrast with much of the previous gendered theorizing about masking (Mitchell, 1995; Tokofsky, 1999; Ware, 1995). In essence, the significance of and reasons for women’s masking have yet to be uncovered. CONTEXT AND SETTING The Red Hat Society® is an international organization of women, most of whom are over the age of 50. The Exalted Queen Mother, Sue Ellen Cooper, founded the Society in 1999 after reading the poem “Warning” by Jenny Joseph. The poem begins, “When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn’t go.” It continues, “[I shall] run my stick along the railings . . . make up for the sobriety of my youth . . . learn to spit” (Cooper, 2004, p. xiii). With a mission to play, be silly, and build relationships with other women over 50, the Society now has over 1,000,000 members in 40,000 local chapters in 22 countries. The group’s central tenets include, no rules, no jobs, no responsibilities, and no penalties. Individuals or groups of women form chapters. Although suggested chapter size is 20, many groups have membership in the hundreds. Each chapter registers with the Red Hat Society® after self selecting a “fun” chapter name, like “Crones and Cronies,” and the “Purple COWS (Creative, Outgoing, Wise and Sexy).” Chapters select a “Queen” who is the titular head of the group.1 Alternatively, an individual may start a chapter and concomitantly assume the role of Queen. The Exalted Queen Mother “rules” over the Queens of the various chapters who, in turn, rule over their members. Although there are no conventions about where and when to meet, or who can be members (other than you must be female), there is a dress code. Members over 50 are encouraged to attend events wearing “full regalia” which includes, at minimum, red hats and purple outfits. Other adornments sometimes include red and purple shoes, jewelry, hatpins,

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scarves, feather boas, and red and purple handbags. Members under 50 wear pink hats and lavender outfits. At age 50, a Pink Hatter officially “Reduates” to a Red Hatter because she has learned “how to accept the aging process in good spirits” (Cooper, 2004, p. 105). Events and activities range from the familiar such as trips to local restaurants, to the unusual such as a weekend in New York City; from the conservative, such as a trip to a museum, to the outrageous, such as attending a male striptease act. For many chapters, emphasis is placed on trying new or different activities and/or outings because the “interplay and sharing among women who were formerly strangers can be very stimulating and lead to brand new interests and explorations” (Cooper, 2004, p. 10). Planning for activities takes place in a variety of ways. In some chapters, the Queen Mother plans and organizes the events. In other chapters, members take turns. A secretary and an event planner are often part of the more formalized structure of larger groups. Meetings usually occur on a monthly basis, with some groups meeting as often as weekly.

METHODS Data Collection In an effort to understand the relationship between play and masking in the Red Hat Society® we adopted an interpretive paradigm (e.g., Creswell, 2003; Denzin & Lincoln, 2000; Maxwell, 1996). More specifically, we used a qualitative method because, “. . . not much has been written about the topic or the population being studied and the researcher seeks to listen to participants and build an understanding based on their ideas” (Creswell, 2003, p. 30). We used three types of data collection: focus group interviews, participant observation, and informal individual interviews (Bernard, 1994). Adopting multiple methods of data collection “[Brings] evidence to bear from several sources—triangulation—[which] enriches the evidence and guards against potential errors” (Creswell, 1998, p. 210). First, we conducted six focus groups with members from several different chapters. Conducted in a small city in the northeastern US, a total of 23 women between the ages of 50 and 85 participated in discussions that lasted approximately one and one-half hours. The interviews were audio-taped with participant consent. An open-ended interview protocol guided our questioning. Open-ended responses afforded us the flexibility to pursue topics that emerged during the course of conversation (Bernard, 1994; Creswell, 2003). Basic questions included, when and why did you join the Red Hat Society®, what do you get out of being a member, and what might cause you to cease membership?

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Second, the female authors attended the “Birthday Bash” in New York City, during the summer of 2004. The Birthday Bash celebrated Sue Ellen Cooper, The Exalted Queen Mother, who was turning 60. Over 400 women participated in the two-day event that included a parade down Constitution Avenue, a formal dinner, a “pajama” breakfast, a cocktail party, and “hanging out.” Throughout the two-day period, we observed and participated in several events including the parade, formal dinner, cocktail party and pajama breakfast. We talked informally with participants and we took photographs of Red Hat Society® members in various Birthday Bash contexts and settings. Our goal was to explain behavior from the participants’ point of view (Bernard, 1994). Our final data collection step involved informal individual interviews with women who approached us at the Birthday Bash and who wanted to “share their stories” about Red Hat Society® membership. We did not write notes while conducting informal interviews or while casually interacting with members at the celebration. Instead, we wrote notes later in the day from memory, an accepted practice in participant observation (Creswell, 2003). Although we did not collect demographic data, general observations gleaned from the focus groups and informal interactions at the Birthday Bash suggest that the majority of participants were Caucasian, over 50 years of age and middle class. Most were or had been married on at least one occasion. Many had children and had worked, or were currently working, outside the home. Although the majority of participants at the Birthday Bash came from the surrounding states of New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, others came from Texas, Louisiana, Florida, and California. Two women attended from Australia.

Data Analysis We transcribed data from the focus groups. We then read the transcribed interviews and listened to the tapes. We used both open and axial coding, and identified themes by a process of interactive consensus (Creswell, 2003; Henderson, 1991; Miles & Huberman, 1994). We paid particular attention to interesting words/sentences that did not “fit” our original conceptualization of the data. Several authors have noted that it is important to pay attention to divergent data because it can lead to a more complete understanding of the context or setting (e.g., Creswell, 2003; Emerson, Frantz, & Shaw, 1995; Marshall & Rossman, 1995). We continued this process until no new themes emerged (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). The themes provided a framework for linking to the theoretical literature. Although we allowed the data to speak by building “up” from the database, “most approaches to qualitative research

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also work ‘down’ from theory. They incorporate, explore, and build on prior theoretical input” (Richards & Richards, 1994, p. 446). Thus, emerging themes were fused with theoretical perspectives to help us understand the meaning of the Red Hat Society® experience. We recognize the possible limitations of our study due to the homogeneity of the sample and our method. The Red Hat Society® is largely comprised of white, middle class women and as such it may not reflect the diversity of older women’s leisure groups. Furthermore, Red Hat Society® membership is mostly comprised of women over 50. Thus, the results may not reflect the multiplicity of women’s play and leisure experiences. In terms of our method, we used participant observation of a large group of people over a short span of time as one form of data collection. We acknowledge that this does not mesh with the time-frame of most participant observation studies (Bernard, 1994). In addition, during the Birthday Bash, we wrote field notes from memory later in the day and as such might have been limited by our memory. However, in short term contexts such as a weekend trip, the method is appropriate (Bowen, 2002). Further, the focus groups came from chapters in a small city in the northeastern United States. Hence, the results may not reflect differences between or among urban, suburban, or rural chapters, or regional differences between, for example, chapters in the Midwest and the Southeast. Finally, our study was limited to an exploration of the meaning of older women’s play, and how masking, in one particular context, fosters it. The findings may not be representative of other types of masking, nor of older women’s play experiences in other contexts.

RESULTS Masking—the donning of red and purple outfits associated with Red Hat Society® membership—was central to the meaning of, and created opportunities for, play. Further, women gave themselves permission to be silly through experimentation, including a return to the playfulness of earlier times. Women exhibited this playfulness through participation in spontaneous, immediate pleasures that revealed the importance of play at this stage in their lives. Playing Alone and Playing Together Dressing up in their Red Hat outfits provided many of the women in this study with an opportunity to act differently than they would in every day life,

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and to “have fun” and “good times,” which many remarked was “unusual” for them. In essence, abetted by masking, many women felt that Red Hat Society® membership afforded them a separate context in which they could be playful. Masking gave them the “permission to be silly”; “a license to have fun.” For many, this enabled a return to the playfulness of their youth: “It’s the adult version of dress-up, I think. As little girls you played with friends and did sort of grown up things and I think that the Red Hat Society® affords you that kind of atmosphere so you can kind of do whatever it is you decide to do,” and “I looked in the mirror one day and realized when I put my hat on, I’m a girl.” Wearing red and purple gave women an opportunity to experiment with playfulness, something they might not have done before. “You have the nerve to do something that you might not ordinarily do [as older women],” and “I did not want to do this at first. I am like, ‘I can’t believe I am going to do this.’ But, as soon as you get into it they [onlookers] don’t laugh at you, they laugh with you. That was a surprise to me. I was afraid of that. After doing it a few times it has gotten to be fun,” and “We learn to do all things we haven’t done before.” In contrast to this positive cast, a few members remarked that they “hated” shopping for and wearing red and purple, and that wearing hats was “ridiculous.” “The hats are a pain. We usually wear them [for events] and then you can’t drive with them.” One group creatively solved this problem by giving the job to a member who “loved to shop.” The beneficiary of this largesse said, “I’m happy, she’s happy. We just tell her our sizes and she does it all.” When asked why they continued to participate given their dislike for wearing red hats, the majority responded, “It’s all about the friendship.” Dressing up (i.e., masking) also enabled women to be “silly” in public spaces, to visibly display themselves in ways that purposely brought attention, and permitted playfulness in ways that brought pleasure. “You kind of take on a persona when you are wearing [a red hat],” “Other events like Thanksgiving, get togethers with friends from high school are pleasant events. They are fun, but it is not the same. It is not carefree. You put that hat on and you are different,” and “It’s fun seeing how people react when you go into restaurants.” At the pajama party during the Birthday Bash in New York, for example, “silly” dress ranged from elegant, demure two piece pajama sets with matching bathrobes to outrageous, provocative negligees complete with feather boas, fish net stockings, spiked purple high heels, and red and purple hair curlers. Often referred to as “props,” many women found great pleasure in this elaborate form of play. For instance, props fostered creative masking. Some groups developed signature outfits with all members dressing alike, complete with coordinating dresses, shoes, gloves, and feather boas. Other groups preferred self-expression with each chapter member

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wearing a unique outfit. Several chapter “Queens,” for example, wore identifiers that clearly differentiated them from other individuals in their chapter, including jewel encrusted crowns, elbow length satin gloves, and diamond crown-shaped lapel pins. Other members had unique, inexpensive costumes that were either hand-made and/or “flea-market” finds. “I made this hat in 20 minutes from an old piece of netting. Cute don’t you think?” Others spent large sums of money on store bought items such as Chapter Queen gold and red fabric crowns that towered over two feet tall, complete with large jewels and brocade trim. Props also fostered easy-going, laughter-filled interaction among Red Hat Society® members. Conversation was not difficult to initiate, particularly because outfits were a source of comparison and show-casing. “Love your shoes. Where did you get them?” “Oh look at her, doesn’t she look great?” At the pajama breakfast, for example, many of the most creative outfits were handmade, suggesting serious thought had gone into their making. One member garnered much attention and admiration because she had constructed a purse made entirely from a frilly red brassiere. Happy to explain that it was as simple as sewing the two cups together, leaving an opening at the top, “and see, it’s even got straps,” several members laughed uproariously that this would be a “wonderful project” for their chapter. Props were also a source of playful interaction with onlookers. For instance, while waiting in the hotel lobby before the start of the “Full Regalia Red Hat Society® Parade” along Constitution Avenue, one of us had a conversation with two members dressed elaborately with copious amounts of flashing-light plastic jewelry, large wide-brimmed hats and long, gaudy purple dresses, and carrying kazoos, the official Red Hat Society® instrument. We asked the two members why they were participating in the Birthday Bash. One of the women replied, “Nobody knows you here in New York, so we can be silly. We are never going to see these people again.” During the parade itself, where responses from onlookers were positive including many smiles, catcalls and whistles, I observed the same two women, estimated to be around 70 years of age, approaching two young men watching the parade. Giggling almost uncontrollably, legs weak from laughter, and holding tightly on to each other’s arms as if to prevent themselves from falling over, the women said, “We’re available. Are you?” The joking reply was, “Sure, see you later. Give us a call.” In addition, although the weather did not cooperate and the parade route was wet, the marching women seemed to be proud representatives of the Society and to enjoy the attention/questions they received from onlookers. Some wanted to be at the front of the parade, next to the Exalted Queen Mother. Others were content to march behind and carry banners for their individual chapters. Even with several photographers and TV cameras

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present, the majority of participants were not camera shy and readily posed for media coverage. Many women also indicated that Red Hat Society® membership was an entrée into a temporary, communal world with it’s own meaning. Red Hat Society® members clearly articulated that “being apart together” was a central social element of the play experience that differentiated it from other group activities. For example, the opportunity for camaraderie, fellowship, and bonding fostered a sense of “sisterhood. ” “It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, or income. . . . The sisterhood it brings to your life is absolutely blissful.” “Love the bonding of women of all ages. I have never been over 50 before, how am I supposed to behave?” “There is camaraderie in this. Somehow it is different.” Some said that sisterhood meant more to them than just fun, however. For instance, several mentioned the emotional support that Red Hatters offer each other in times of need like illness and death. “Red Hat is about “Sisterhood” and supporting others in their life as a woman. . . . fun and silliness can be a part but so are hugs and understanding.” One woman noted, “I am a breast cancer survivor. I believe I got cancer because I was depressed and that lead to a poor immune system. I strongly believe that laughter is the best medicine . . . .I use the Red Hat Society as part of my survival tactic. I also believe that women need women for unconditional love and support.” Another said, “A series of life events was leading me into a depressive state. The fun and sisterhood involved has given me a renewed sense of being. Other women said that the company of other Red Hatters” provided encouragement to do things they would not otherwise do. One member said that she had done a zip-line tour2 on a cruise with other Red Hatters, “It was the highlight of my cruise and has convinced me to try more adventurous activities for a lady of 62. I don’t believe I would have tried that tour before joining the Red Hat Society®.” Revealing Their True Selves . . . At a point in their lives where they “didn’t give a damn,” many members expressed that they had spent large portions of their lives not just caring for others, but also playing a variety of responsible roles ranging from partner to employee to community volunteer. The net result was limited, if any, time for play. Membership in the Red Hat Society® with its “dress-up” requirement enabled play and playful self-expression. “To go out to lunch wearing our hats and being silly and enjoying people with no strings attached, no responsibilities. It meets a real need for me,” and “. . . Now it is my turn. I am going to let my husband know who I am . . . I have played many roles and this is something I want to do . . . and I so enjoy doing it.” As a result, Red

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Hat Society® membership was seen as compensation, an opportunity to capitalize on deferred happiness, a chance to loosen the socio-cultural bonds of conformity, and express the feelings of liberation and freedom that arose from reaching this stage in their lives. “A whole aspect of that kind of fun and play has been out of my life for the 18 years I’ve been a mom . . . now I am going to go back to being me again,” and “I taught school and could not imagine going to school dressed like an idiot and it would be inappropriate so I didn’t do it. But now [that I am retired] I really don’t care.” One member playfully captured those feelings when she remarked, “[wearing red and purple] is a nice way to rebel that won’t get you in jail.” Several said Red Hat Society® membership was more than a context for self-expression. Dressing in red and purple was an act of defiance; a refusal to be limited by other people’s ideas about appropriate behavior for older women, a need to “break the stereotypes,” a desire to be visible rather than “invisible.” One woman said, “Now there is a little bit of rebellion that says you know I really don’t have to care. I am not pleasing my husband. I am not pleasing my mother. I am not pleasing my kids. In fact, if it irritates my kids that’s OK. You know what I mean?” Another said, “By wearing your red hat and purple ensemble, people know you are 50 at a minimum. In a youth obsessed culture it is almost a stigma to be wrinkly . . . and here, it’s almost a celebration of who cares.” Masking also played a central role in being able to “let your hair down,” in being spontaneous, also often missing from many members’ lives. “I am really pleased and proud of my kids but I have suppressed me, you know. Probably the most spontaneous thing I’ve done during the time I have been a mom is curse.” Although “dressing up” meant donning red hats and purple outfits, for some women it also meant they could unmask. Red Hat Society® membership was an opportunity to reveal personalities they kept hidden from public view. One said, “I thought it was really me [dressing in purple and red]. I mean even if I don’t think people would know that.” Another said, “[when I put my red hat on] I’m saying I’m not mom, I’m me.” Another acknowledged, “I am shy and I joined because it lets me not be shy.” One member mentioned that as a teenager she did not date boys in her high school because “pigeonholing” was common. “You were a geek or a cheerleader.” Instead, she dated boys from distant schools who did not know who she was. “That way I could be myself.” She felt that membership in the Red Hat Society® had the same effect; she could be herself. “No pretending.” Another mentioned that although she regularly hosted parties for her husband, “It is not a party for play. [Not] like in high school or college where you invite your friends over and have a good time. I haven’t had a party like that since we started having our [Red Hat Society®] luncheons.” In contrast, some participants indicated

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that although participating in the Red Hat Society® allowed them to express a part of their personality that they valued, they characterized the exuberance and euphoria of Red Hat Society® meetings as “exhausting.” One member admitted, “I couldn’t do it all the time.” If Not Now, When? Several members also mentioned a growing awareness of getting older that led them to the realization that “life is very short. Why not enjoy it.” Indeed, a few had experienced a traumatic event that opened their minds to enjoying their remaining years and playful self-expression through Red Hat Society® membership was one way to do that. “It really hit me in the ambulance, I am a 70 year old woman here, my time is flitting away . . . so now I’m a Red Hat Society® member!” Another member mentioned reading a book about permission points in life that explained when it was socially acceptable to do the unexpected. “[Turning 50] is a permission point. Watch out because you have done most of it and you can really say now I am going to do what I need to do. The real commonality is people who join the Red Hat Society® say rules are bad. We will do whatever we need to do.”

DISCUSSION Although there is an extensive literature on children’s play, what sets this study apart is the focus on older women’s play, hitherto uncharted territory by leisure researchers (e.g., Cheang, 2002; Wearing, 1995, 1998). We find this lack of interest in older women’s play to be odd, first, because older women represent a rapidly growing segment of the US population, and second, because it tacitly assumes that older women and play are not compatible concepts (Sutton-Smith, 1997). Using the context of the Red Hat Society®, a group for women over 50, our primary goal was to examine the meaning of play in older women’s lives. In addition, the role of masking in play is theoretically underdeveloped and the limited work that is available has principally focused on male participants (Henricks, 2002; Huizinga, 1950; Ware, 2001). Thus, a secondary goal was to extend masking literature by including perspectives from older women. Play had many meanings for Red Hat Society® members. More specifically, the types of behaviors observed and described by the women in the Red Hat Society® are strongly consistent with definitions of play as time and space apart from ordinary life (Huizinga, 1950). From playful chapter names, to dressing up, to the use of props, “players” visibly, publicly, and

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expressively set themselves and their social context apart from “non-players” (Henricks, 2002). In addition, and paralleling several other studies (e.g., Cheang, 2002; O’Neill, 1993; Yarnal, 2004), we found substantial support for many of Huizinga’s propositions on play, including play as fun, voluntary, and free from constraints. We found both support for, and refutation of, Huizinga’s (1950) contention that rules are central to play. Many members expressed that the lack of rules was central to the meaning of the experience. Hampered by obligations and constraints through their lives, this cohort clearly articulated that the lack of duties and responsibilities, pressures and expectations, associated with Red Hat Society® membership enhanced their enjoyment of this play experience. For many this was both liberating and antithetical to expectations about older people’s behavior (Cheang, 2002; Freysinger & Flannery, 1992). At the same time, rules and expectations about how to behave and dress abound in the Red Hat Society®. Members must wear red and purple; recommended chapter size is 20; the official instrument is the kazoo; red hats and purple outfits can be reversed to purple hats and red outfits during birthday months; and, members under 50 must wear pink hats and lavender outfits, to name but a few. Yet, members readily embraced these requirements and saw them less as “rules” and more as vehicles for enabling “fun.” Life was highly constrained and rule bound. In contrast, Red Hat Society® membership was not. Thus, our results provided support for Huizinga’s (1950) argument that once players buy into the rules of play the constraints of mundane life disappear. Yet, we also found Huizinga is incorrect in assuming that transitioning out of mundane life into play is equally accessible to all throughout the life course. Many women expressed ambivalence about their play, frustration about limited opportunities for play earlier in life and relief at being able to play now. We also found strong support for Turner’s (1982) definition of play as a context for communitas.3 “As an alternative, more liberated way of being socially human” (Spariousu, 1997, p. 44) that is usually unattainable because of the rigidity of mundane life, communitas is marked by spontaneous, open, non-ordinary behavior, genial interaction, interest in each other’s activities, and a sense of belonging. The women in this study clearly articulated that having the freedom from socio-cultural expectations and freedom to socialize, “dress-up,” “have fun,” “act silly,” and build relationships with other women was central to their enjoyment of the experience. Indeed, our study showed considerable overlap between Huizinga’s conceptualization of play as social and Turner’s conceptualization of play as communitas; in both cases the relational, bonding, and out of the ordinary, self-expressive elements of this play experience appeared to be particularly meaningful to society members.

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Masking (i.e., “dress-up”) was also found to be central to the Red Hat Society® experience; it afforded play. For many, red hats and purple outfits gave them the courage to be silly, something they had not done since childhood, if at all. The “silliness” of the garb lent a playful, fun, non-serious air to the Red Hat Society® experience. For others, the dress code allowed outrageous self-expression, creativity, and even identity change in a harmless, publicly visible manner. We found strong support for Ware’s (2001) argument that far from insignificant, women’s masking is a public way of making social commentary; it enables women to cross social boundaries that would otherwise be “at odds with traditional expectations of women’s behavior and appearance” (p. 240). Several women at the New York Birthday Bash Pajama Breakfast, for example, took great pleasure in the hyper-femininity of their outfits. By choosing to wear spiked heels, mesh stockings, garter belts, low necklines, red and purple wigs, and voluptuous false red lips, they were, in effect, playing with cultural norms for older women. We also found strong support for Ware’s (2001) contention that a woman publicly playing with ideals about femininity is more than just funny; it is “shocking and unexpected” (p. 240). Our study extended her assertion to show that not only did these women create positive public reaction wherever they went, which they thoroughly enjoyed, but also the group effect of their costumes on the public was particularly powerful. In an expansion of Huizinga’s (1950) work, Turner (1982) notes that group bonding through communitas does not mean the loss of individual identity. We found strong support for his argument. While bound by Red Hat Society® expectations about colors for attire, individual and group chapter identity differed markedly. For many women this was a significant part of the pleasure of participating. Creating a chapter or individual identity was an opportunity for markedly different forms of self expression ranging from sensible to silly, from conservative to outrageous, from simple to complex, from conformist to rebellious. In essence, perhaps plasticity and flexibility may be a key element of older women’s play. Paradoxically, however, although masking choices were often creative and individual, the vibrancy and consistency of the red and purple “dress-up” colors simultaneously created uniformity, conformity, and group cohesiveness. Caillois (1961) has argued that uniforms are the antithesis of masks. Muted uniforms stress control and discipline, while facial visibility and lack of expression shows compliance. In contrast, masks shield the face and allow individuality and self-expression, while facial invisibility allows noncompliance. In an interesting twist to this dichotomy, our results suggest that one of the reasons Red Hat Society® “dress-up” is so successful is because it challenges

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the distinction between masks and uniforms. Red Hatters faces are uncovered and visible, like those who wear uniforms. Yet, facial expressions were frequently animated, lively and full of self-expression. In addition, members’ outfits were sometimes so garish, so visible, that they acted as a distraction from the face, a type of group mask that provided anonymity for individual members. Furthermore, by flamboyantly distinguishing themselves from the outside world, rather than becoming invisible, masking created space for group resistance to aging and group resistance to social roles and norms (Shaw, 2001). Many women expressed great pleasure in having this positive, publicly noticeable mechanism for older women’s self-expression. Finally, Turner (1982) argued that liminal play is serious, obligatory, and active; it compels participation and elicits group loyalty. In contrast, liminoid play is entertaining, voluntary, and passive, a commodity to be watched rather than actively participated in. Our results dispute this distinction. Although Red Hat Society® membership is voluntary and a commodity, it is far from passive. Members enjoy actively displaying their outfits and the public attention it garners. Similarly, although membership is entertaining, “deliciously decadent and absurdly playful” and “all about fun” for some, for others it performed a serious role. From opportunities to discover or rediscover play, to chances to meet other women, to contexts for making new friends, to time apart from other role obligations, our study found that the Red Hat Society® appealed to a surprisingly diverse group of women with a variety of wants and needs. In essence, we found strong support for the arguments that while play is ambiguous, elusive, and challenging to define, nonetheless it captures certain elements not reflected in other types of behavioral activity (Burghardt, 2005). Spinka, et al., (2001) argued, for example, that emotional excitement and pleasure in a relatively relaxed context are unique to play and “produce the complex emotional state we refer to as ‘having fun’” (p. 144). While we agree that “having fun” is important to play, on the other hand, this conceptualization fails to capture the importance of the social, relational, and bonding elements of the experience that were so evident from the Red Hat Society® experience. Nor does it capture the power of masking in facilitating play. Perhaps this is because, until this study, no-one has thought to ask older women about their play, a serious oversight in the literature. Put simply, we need further investigation of the role of play in older women’s lives so that we can (a) understand what it means to them and (b) work towards a more holistic conceptualization of play that corrects the oversight of authors like Huizinga (1950). Schaie (1996), for example, argued that cognitive abilities and well-being link with constructs like life-style, health, gender, and economics rather than age. Building off his argument, Steptoe, Wardle, and Marmot (2005) found that positive affect in middle-aged men

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and women both at work and leisure is associated with increased happiness and reduced cortisol, a key stress hormone. Missing from their work and the larger literature, however, is a focus on play and its relationship to cognitive abilities and well-being. It was apparent from our study that although women had varied experiences across the life course, Red Hat Society® membership was able to meet their diverse needs by providing a context for play through masking. In the future, researchers might consider the relationships between play, masking, and older women’s cognitive abilities and well-being. In addition, we need further investigation of the role of play in older women’s lives because we found Red Hatters challenging the notion that (a) they are not entitled to leisure (b) their options for play are limited and (c) they should feel guilty for “having fun” (Freysinger & Flannery, 1992; Green, 1998; Henderson, 1991; Piercy & Cheek, 2004; Roberto, 1996). We also documented that women see play as affording possibilities for selfdetermination, personal empowerment, and resistance (Freysinger & Flannery, 1992; Green, 1998; Shaw, 1999; Wearing, 1995). Thus, researchers might consider how constraints to play ebb and flow throughout the life course, how those fluctuations intersect with older women’s play and whether play through masking offers a context for older women’s empowerment that may have beneficial outcomes beyond the play context. Researchers might consider contrasting our findings with other contexts where there is variation in play, masking and rules. For example, in order to establish whether the outcomes of the Red Hat Society® experience are unique, attention could be given to rule-bound contexts where men mask and play, such as the Shriners; or to contexts where men play, but do not mask, such as bowling; and to contexts where women play but do not mask, such as bridge clubs. The results of our study also suggest that not only did masking afford enjoyment of this play experience, but also that the relative freedom from rules made the experience particularly meaningful. Finally, we need to look more closely at older women’s play because research shows discrepancies between what constitutes a “successful lifestyle” (defined in terms of material goods and leisure activities) in people’s minds and people’s actual lifestyles, including how they can and do play (e.g., Dressler, 1999; Dressler, Bindon & Neggers, 1998). The size of the discrepancy between perceived and actual lifestyle correlates with measures of physical and mental health (Dressler, 1999). The more people’s perceived “successful lifestyle” diverged from their actual lifestyle, the worse their measures of mental health (e.g., stress, depression) and physical health (e.g., blood pressure, BMI). Researchers might consider whether women who join organizations such as the Red Hat Society® are more playful than other women. If so, do women who join “playful” organizations such as the Society enjoy better mental and physical health?

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NOTES 1. We are grateful for the comment from one reviewer who wrote, “ ‘Queens’ are an odd touch for such a purportedly egalitarian society.’ One his/her recommendation, we will explore Queens’ roles in the society further. 2. A zipline tour (or “canopy tour” above or through the trees) is an adventure tour that involves clipping into safety gear consisting of a harness, lanyards, carabiners, and a zip pulley on a heavy-duty steel cable. Trained guides send and receive participants across the cable from one landing platform to the next. Ziplining offers a sightseeing alternative for those who aren’t satisfied with staying on the ground. 3. See Yarnal (in press) for links between older women’s play and communitas.

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Mitchell, R. (1995). All on a Mardi Gras day: Episodes in the history of the New Orleans Carnival. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Newcomb, F. (Ed.). (1956). Navajo symbols in sand paintings and ritual objects. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Nunley, J., & McCarty, C. (1999). Masks: Faces of culture. New York: Harry Abrahams. O’Neill, G. (1993). A night out with the girls. Women having a good time. London, UK: The Women’s Press. Pelligrini, A. (1995). The future of play theory: A multidisciplinary inquiry into the contributions of Brian Sutton-Smith. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Pernet, H. (1992). Human Masks. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press. Piaget, J. (1951). Play, dreams and imitation in childhood. New York: Norton. Piercy, K. W., & Cheek, C. (2004). Tending and befriending: The intertwined relationship of quilters. Journal of Women and Aging, 16(1/2), 17–33. Provost, J. (1990). Work, play and type: Achieving a balance in your life. Palo Alto, CA: Consulting Psychologist Press. Rieber, L. (1996). Seriously considering play. Educational Technology Research and Development, 44(2), 43–58. Richards, T., & Richards, R. (1994). Using computers in qualitative research. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 445–462). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Roberto, K. A. (1996). Friendships between older women: Interactions and reactions. Journal of Women and Aging, 8(3/4), 55–73. Roberts, J., & Sutton-Smith, B. (1962). Child Training and Game Involvement. Ethnology 1,166–185. Sawin, P. (2001). Transparent masks: The ideology and practice of disguise. Journal of American Folklore, 114(452), 175–203. Schaie, K. (1996). Intellectual development in adulthood. In J. Birren & K. Schaie (Eds.), Handbook of the Psychology of Aging. (4th ed.) (pp. 266–286). San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Schechner, R. (1988). Playing. Play and Culture, 1(1), 3–19. Schwartzman, H. (1978). Transformations. New York, NY: Plenium Press. Shaw, S. (1999). Gender and leisure. In E. L. Jackson & T. L. Burton (Eds.), Leisure Studies: Prospects for the twenty-first century (pp. 271–281). State College, Pennsylvania: Venture Publishing. Shaw, S. (2001). Conceptualizing resistance: Women’s leisure as political practice. Journal of Leisure Research, 33(2), 186–201. Spariosu, M. (1997). Play, liminality and the study of literature. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Spinka, M., Newberry, R., & Bekoff, M. (2001). Mammalian play: Training for the unexpected. The Quarterly Review of Biology, 76(2), 141–168.

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Steptoe, A., Wardle, J., & Marmot, M. (2005). Positive affect and health-related neuroendocrine, cardiovascular, and inflammatory processes. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 102(16), 6508–6512. Sutton-Smith, B. (1986). The idealization of play. In C. Rees & A. Miracle (Eds.), Sport and social theory (pp. 85–102). Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics. Sutton-Smith, B. (1997). The ambiguity of play. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Tokofsky, P. (1999). Masking gender: A German carnival custom and its social context. Western Folklore, 58(3–4), 299–318. Toll, R. (1974). Blacking up: The Minstrel Show in nineteenth century America. New York: Oxford University Press. Turner, V. (1982). From ritual to theatre. The human seriousness of play. New York: Performing Arts Journal Publications. Ulrich, G. (1989). Masks. LORE, 39(3), 2–9. Ware, C. (1995). “I read the rules backward”: Women, symbolic inversion, and the Cajun Mardi Gras run. Southern Folklore, 52(2), 137–160. Ware, C. (2001). Anything to act crazy: Cajun women and Mardi Gras disguise. Journal of American Folklore, 114(452), 225–247. Wearing, B. (1995). Leisure and resistance in an aging society. Leisure Studies, 14, 263–279. Wearing, B. (1998). Leisure and feminist theory. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Wissler, C. (1950). Masks. New York: The American Museum of Natural History. Yarnal, C. (2004). “Are we having fun yet?” A playfully serious look at a group cruise tour. Leisure Sciences, 26(4), 349–372. Yarnal, C. (in press). The Red Hat Society®: Exploring the role of play, liminality, and communitas in older women’s lives. Journal of women and aging.

Chapter Ten

Conceptualising a Pedagogy of Play: International Perspectives from Theory, Policy and Practice Elizabeth Wood

In the international community of play scholarship, substantial funds of knowledge confirm the role and value of play to young children’s learning and development. The commitment to play can be traced through ideology, theory, and research into early childhood curricula and practice across international contexts (Broström, 1999; DeVries, Zan, Hildebrandt, Edmiaston & Sales, 2002; Docket and Fleer 1999; Johnson, Christie and Wardle, 2005; Krogh and Slentz, 2001; Saracho, 2002; Saracho and Spodek, 2003; Van Hoorn, Nourot, Scales & Alward, 2002; Wood and Attfield, 2005). This commitment is also embodied in policy texts, discourses and strategies that emanate from a variety of groups, at national and local levels, including government education departments, early childhood associations and interest groups. Conceptual frameworks for identifying play-based learning, and developing a curriculum that incorporates play activities, are embedded in international discourses. There is sustained evidence that young children learn through play, which is related to the domains of development (psycho-motor, cognitive, socio-affective) and to the subject disciplines (Frost, Wortham & Reifel, 2005; Marsh and Millard, 2000; Rogoff, 2003; Roskos and Christie, 2000; Worthington and Carruthers, 2003). Play is also progressive: play choices and activities change, and children’s play skills develop with age and experience, typically resulting in more sustained, complex forms of play (Broadhead, 2004; Johnson et al., 2005; Sutton-Smith, 1997). Play activities are socially and symbolically complex, and involve social reciprocity which is the core of affective and personality development (DeVries, 1997). However, evidence about the role of teachers, and other adults, is more contentious, in terms of what roles (if any) they should take in children’s play; whether play can (or should) be used for educational purposes; whose purposes and intentions are paramount; and what are the 166

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modes, intentions and outcomes of adult intervention. These debates also relate to continued efforts to define play. DEFINING PLAY Providing a comprehensive definition of play remains a theoretical challenge because there are multiple forms of play, which have different functions and characteristics, multiple players and multiple play contexts (Sutton-Smith, 1997). Play has been defined according to behavioral factors, to internal mood states and dispositions, and to the social contexts that typically permit or provoke play activities (Johnson et al., 2005; Wood & Attfield, 2005). Some of the defining characteristics of play include intrinsic motivation, positive affect, symbolic activity and representations, non-literality, active engagement, dependence on internal rather than external rules, control and autonomy, and attention to means rather than ends. The themes and goals of some forms of play (particularly free play) can be changed and modified by the players. In contrast, rule-bound play (such as sports and contests) provides the pleasure of learning and abiding by the rules and demonstrating competence, even where the distinction between play and work may not be clear (Sutton-Smith, 1997). Pellegrini (1991) has argued against a play-work dichotomy, and has proposed that play can be categorized along a continuum from pure play to non-play: the more play characteristics and dispositions that can be identified, the more playful the episode or event. In addition, early childhood specialists may have their own definitions of play, based on their pedagogical epistemologies, personal theories, values, beliefs, life experiences, and professional development. In early childhood, all forms of play are seen as contributing to adaptation, learning and development (Frost et al., 2005). What distinguishes play from other educational activities is that children have the freedom and autonomy to make choices based on their personal needs and interests, which enables them to control or direct play activities. However, as will be argued here, such freedoms have been equated with chaos and indeterminate educational outcomes, which has created pressures for more coherent approaches towards educational play. One of the key weaknesses in curriculum models that incorporate play is the lack of clarity about a pedagogy of play (Wood, 2004). Furthermore, this concept presents challenges to all adults who work in early childhood settings because of the traditional commitment to encouraging free play, independence, choice, and autonomy (Bennett, Wood and Rogers, 1997; Lillemyr, 2003; Moyles, Adams and Musgrove, 2002). Whilst many of the claims about the efficacy of play do have empirical foundations, they are not a sufficient justification for elevating play as the most effective way of learning. The

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established pedagogy of play is one of listening, observing and facilitating children’s learning and development. However, current debates about the role of adults are informed by theoretical and conceptual frameworks, which propose that a range of strategies can be used in different contexts, and for different purposes (Anning, Cullen & Fleer, 2004; Johnson, et al., 2005; Wood and Attfield, 2005). Contemporary directions in policy frameworks also indicate a pro-active role for teachers in their pedagogical framing (curriculum planning, management and implementation, and assessment) and their pedagogical strategies. These policy orientations also rest on the assumption that what counts as play in early childhood settings is qualitatively different from play in other contexts, because play is expected to contribute to children’s progress and achievements, and provide evidence of learning outcomes. The aim of this chapter is to explore these issues, drawing on international studies of play and classroom practice, and the policy frameworks that shape provision. The term early childhood is applied to different age ranges, typically birth to five, or birth to eight, depending on each country’s education system, and the age at which children start compulsory education. In this chapter, early childhood includes from birth to eight years, in order to encompass some of the issues around transition, progression and continuity across pre- and compulsory school phases. Because of the diversity of early childhood provision, adults who work with children have a wide range of qualifications, including graduate-level teachers, practitioners with vocational qualifications, as well as untrained personnel, and parents. The terms teacher and practitioner are used here to reflect these different levels. The first section examines contemporary policy frameworks and curriculum guidelines in order to identify current trends in developing a pedagogy of play. The second section reviews research evidence on the role of teachers and practitioners in relation to pedagogical framing and strategies, and juxtaposes these with conceptualisations of pedagogy and learning in policy frameworks. Although there are ongoing tensions between the rhetoric and reality of play, research evidence indicates that good quality play is central to a high quality curriculum, and to effective provision. However, this aspiration needs to be considered from the perspective of critical pedagogy in relation to what purposes, and whose purposes are being privileged (Grieshaber & Cannella, 2001; Ryan & Grieshaber, 2005; Yelland, 2005). The final section sets out a research agenda that aims towards advancing theory and improving practice.

POLICY CONTEXTS: NATIONAL AND LOCAL PERSPECTIVES Early childhood education is a significant site for expansion in developed and developing countries. Improving the quality and quantity of provision is

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an international policy aspiration which is informed by research that demonstrates the efficacy of high quality provision in improving children’s learning outcomes and life chances in the immediate and longer terms (Olmsted, 2000; Sylva and Pugh, 2005). In order to bring about such improvements, many countries have developed policy frameworks that include guidance on curriculum content, pedagogy and assessment practices. These developments have taken place at state or regional level, for example in the U.S.A., Australia and Italy, or at national level, for example in England, Norway, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, and New Zealand. Developments in one country may also have international currency: for example, the Reggio Emilia approach in Italy has been cascaded to other countries via study visits to the region, dissemination reports, and guidelines for adaptation (Abbott and Nutbrown, 2001; Cadwell, 1997). Similarly, Developmentally Appropriate Practice (DAP) (Bredekamp and Copple, 1987, 1997), crossed international and cultural boundaries because the approach encompassed the powerful ideology of Progressivism and child-centered education. Contemporary policy frameworks continue to value play as a medium for learning; however, as the following examples show, there are different emphases in international movements in play pedagogy. In Aotearoa (the Māori name for New Zealand), the early childhood curriculum, Te Whaariki, embodies the concept of culturally appropriate education, which combines developmental and socio-cultural perspectives, and reflects a bi-cultural partnership between the minority Māori, and majority Pākehā (white European) communities (New Zealand Ministry of Education, 1996). The key principles, goals, and strands constitute a flexible, holistic curriculum framework, which is not aligned to traditional curriculum subjects. The curriculum is not transmitted but is experienced through each child’s interests, agendas, dispositions and needs, which can be expressed through authentic activity (for example building and creative arts projects) and through play (Nuttall, 2003). Pedagogy is child-centred: children’s interests inform practitioners’ interactions and support for learning. In spite of a long-standing commitment to play-based learning in Aotearoa/New Zealand (May, 2001), there are few explicit references to play in the policy documents. Play is not privileged, but is one of many modes of activity and interaction in which children engage individually, and collaboratively with peers and adults. Hedges & Cullen (2005) express concerns about the lack of clarity about appropriate content and conceptual knowledge for young children, and whether practitioners can recognise the potential learning in play experiences. This unresolved tension in play pedagogy is evident in other national policy frameworks. In the Reggio Emilia approach, play arises from children’s inner needs, questions, and interests. Play activities are valued alongside authentic, collaborative activities, for example long- and short-term projects that can be

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initiated by the children or adults (Cadwell, 1997; Edwards, Gandini & Forman, 1998). Teachers are co-constructors: they play and work with children, developing and extending themes and interests by listening, observing, talking and documenting children’s learning journeys. In the atelier, or art studio, the children work with the atelierista on projects that involve authentic materials, resources, tools and activities. There is an emphasis on enquiry, discovery, problem solving, symbolic representations and knowledge construction. Teachers have a key role in designing the learning environment in order to support educative encounters, communication and relationships, and to extend children’s working theories and conceptual understanding. Choice and interdependence are encouraged in a richly resourced learning environment, with opportunities for children to combine, explore and play with ideas and materials. Group projects, rather than free or spontaneous play activities, are the main contexts for learning. The revised version of Developmentally Appropriate Practice (Bredekamp and Copple, 1997) positions play as a highly valuable developmental activity. In the original version (Bredekamp and Copple, 1987) the commitment to play and free choice was interpreted to imply child-centred permissiveness, with adults adopting a predominantly non-directive and facilitative role. This led to an inadequate distinction between teachers following children’s needs and interests (which may be narrow and repetitive), and teachers stimulating these needs and interests in relation to a broad and balanced curriculum. DAP was criticised for ignoring or misunderstanding the influence of culture on children’s development, and on what and how they learn; for obscuring what was appropriate for individual children, and for relying on hegemonic western theories of child development (Krogh and Slentz, 2001; Wasik, Bond and Hindman, 2002). In response to these critiques, the revised position statement (Bredekamp and Copple, 1997) incorporates socio-cultural influences on learning and development, a clearer focus on combining children’s self-initiated learning (including play) and adult-directed activities, and a pro-active role for adults (Wasik, et al., 2002). The curriculum frameworks for early childhood education in England reflect a pragmatic approach to play. The Curriculum Guidance for the Foundation Stage (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority/Department for Education and Employment, 2000) is designed for children age 3–5 in all types of pre-school provision, including private and government-funded centers. Although the age of starting school in England is the term before the child’s fifth birthday, in practice the majority of four- and five-year-old children attend full-time school in the Reception class of the Primary school. The curriculum has been influenced substantially by the subject orientation of the National Curriculum (age 5–16), and is organized around six areas of

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learning: personal and social education; communication, language and literacy; mathematical development; creative development; knowledge and understanding of the world; and physical development. The Curriculum Guidance articulates key principles about how young children learn, with explicit advice on the role of teachers and practitioners. The principles that underpin a play-based pedagogy include an emphasis on well-planned, purposeful play (both indoors and outdoors); a continuity between play and work; allowing time for children to become engrossed and to work in depth; engagement between children and adults; and provision of a wide range of creative and imaginative activities to stimulate the development and use of language. The role of teachers and practitioners includes: • • • • • • •

planning and resourcing challenging learning environments supporting children’s learning through planned play activity extending and supporting children’s spontaneous play extending and developing children’s language and communication in play assessing children’s learning through play ensuring continuity and progression combining adult-directed and child-initiated activities.

These principles endorse integrated pedagogical approaches. However, it can be argued that play serves an agenda which privileges content coverage, which contrasts with the more flexible, experiential approaches in Te Whaariki, Reggio Emilia and DAP. While many early childhood professionals have welcomed this guidance, from the perspective of critical pedagogy there remain questions about who is responsible for the planning, and whose purposes are being served (the child, the adult, the curriculum), and what forms of knowledge are being privileged. These four models demonstrate international movements in play pedagogy, and reflect wider international debates about appropriate curriculum content, instructional methods, readiness for learning, and responsiveness to diversity among learners in terms of culture, ethnicity, and special or additional needs. There are trends towards a bi-directional relationship between play and the curriculum, as described by Van Hoorn et al., (2002). Curriculum-generated play experiences can be planned intentionally to help children learn specific skills and concepts, and play-generated curriculum activities can emerge from children’s spontaneous interests and activities. This integrated approach arguably avoids the work/play dichotomy, and the parallel subject-centered/child-centered dichotomy. However, such flexibility places considerable emphasis on the professional knowledge of teachers and practitioners to formulate educational aims and goals on the

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basis of their observations and documentation of children’s interests and activities, to connect children with substantive curriculum content, and to address diversity and equity issues. Thus it can be argued that in order to maximise the educational potential of play, early childhood educators need a sophisticated pedagogical repertoire, and a theoretical knowledge base that goes beyond established developmental orientations. The pedagogical issues raised in the foregoing policy frameworks resonate across many contemporary early childhood curriculum models. Although the value of play is inscribed in policy texts, discourses, and strategies, its real value is related to achieving (or at least contributing to) the educational outcomes that are valued in curriculum and policy frameworks. The models described here all value certain culturally approved forms of play. However, as Sutton-Smith (1997) argues, the emphasis on play as progress has tended to obscure the ways in which children use play for their own affairs of power, how they construct personal and shared meaning, and how they establish multiple roles and identities. Institutional cultures approve some freedoms and choices, but disapprove others. A consistent feature of the models is that play in schools is qualitatively different from play in other contexts and environments. Learning through play is not left to chance, but is channeled through complex reciprocal and responsive relationships, and is situated in activities that are socially constructed and mediated. While children’s agendas remain central to a playbased pedagogy, Lillemyr (2003) argues that adult involvement in play, and the development of children’s interests and independence, are not mutually exclusive. Similarly DeVries (1997) raises the question of how adults can appeal to children’s interests, and engage their purposes, while ensuring that they learn what is valuable in human knowledge. Although contemporary curriculum models endorse a pedagogy of play, achieving good quality play in practice remains a considerable challenge: in many countries teachers face competing demands for accountability, performance and achievement, and competing notions of what constitutes effective teaching and learning (Johnson et al., 2005; Wood and Bennett, 2001). The next section examines play in theory and practice, and reviews some of the key studies that problematize and support a pedagogy of play.

ADULTS’ ROLES IN PLAY: PEDAGOGICAL CHALLENGES There is broad agreement, based on sustained empirical evidence, that play contributes to learning and development, and that learning and development can be seen in play (Broadhead, 2004; Frost et al., 2005; Johnson et al., 2005;

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Wood and Attfield, 2005). Until recently, less attention was paid to theorising pedagogy and curriculum, and the policy frameworks described in the previous section can be seen as pragmatic responses to some of the conceptual gaps and dilemmas around play, both in theory and practice. The term pedagogy is itself problematic, because it has multiple definitions, and carries connotations of instructional strategies and direct teaching of defined content, both of which have been construed as problematic in the culture and ideology of early childhood (Siraj-Blatchford & Sylva, 2004). As the following section shows, conceptualising a play-based pedagogy poses a number of challenges to the early childhood community.

THE RHETORIC-REALITY PROBLEM The longstanding belief in the efficacy of play as a medium for learning is combined with a powerful ideology of minimal adult intervention in play (Bennett et al., 1997). However, there are tensions between the rhetoric and reality of play: empirical evidence shows consistently that achieving good quality play remains a challenge. Bennett et al., (1997) provided detailed specification of the relationship between teachers’ beliefs about play and their classroom practice. The study revealed commonly held theories about the nature and benefits of play, and its relationship to learning. The teachers’ theories indicated a broadly Piagetian/developmental orientation to learning which they had interpreted to emphasise choice, independence, intrinsic motivation, discovery, exploration, and hands-on experience. Play was considered to be developmentally appropriate—children know intuitively what they need and meet those needs through play. Because play is intrinsically motivating, children are more likely to remember what they have done and learned. In terms of outcomes, play was seen as most valuable for language and social development, although there was evidence of play contexts being structured to include curriculum-based knowledge, especially in literacy and numeracy. Although their provision and pedagogical framing for play was intentional, the children were expected to construct their learning in predominantly selfdirected ways, based on their needs and interests, thus giving them freedom, independence, autonomy, control and ownership, which were seen as the defining qualities of play. The teachers’ theories had a direct influence on how they conceptualised their role, which was predominantly non-interventionist, with three distinct elements: teacher as provider, observer, and participant. These pedagogical roles included framing the playing-learning environment, observing and interacting with children, and intervening in play where

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necessary. Interventions included demonstrating a technique, teaching a skill, modelling language or checking behaviour, and helping children to develop their ideas, characters, and play themes. Role play proved to be particularly challenging: its spontaneous nature made it difficult for teachers to plan their involvement, and they responded mostly on an ad hoc basis to opportunities for learning. Knowing when and how to intervene, and for what purposes, were problematic issues, and the teachers were concerned about spoiling role play through inappropriate or ill-timed interventions. However, minimal intervention meant that they had little time to understand and assess the meaning of play activities to children. By reviewing videotaped episodes of play, they identified instances of over- or under-estimating children’s skills and capabilities, and identified the constraints that mediate between their theories and practice, including: • Pressures and expectations from parents, colleagues, and school inspectors. • Lack of time for adult involvement. • The structure of the school day (timetabling, fixed times for school assemblies and outdoor play). • Downward pressures from the National Curriculum, and the emphasis on literacy and numeracy. • Space and resources. • High ratio of children to adults. As a result of their involvement in the study, the teachers changed their theories, or practice, or sometimes both, and recognized that play provides opportunities for teaching and learning (Wood and Bennett, 2001). This was not an argument for using play solely for achieving pre-determined outcomes, or privileging teachers’ rather than children’s intentions. Rather the teachers recognized the need for gaining insights into children’s patterns of learning and interaction, which could inform their pedagogy and curriculum planning. In particular, they realized that children need more time to develop sustained bouts of play, and to return to their own themes and ongoing interests. However, significant conceptual and practical changes were needed in order to address the mediating constraints and ensure that they took a more proactive role in supporting and extending children’s play-based activities. The problems identified in this study should, theoretically, have been addressed by the implementation of the English Foundation Stage, which, as noted above, does provide positive validation for child-and adult-initiated play. However, recent studies indicate that developing a pedagogy of play remains problematic because many of the mediating constraints have continued, especially the ’push-down’ pressures to prepare children for com-

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pulsory schooling. In a study of progression and continuity from pre-school to school, Wood and Bennett (2001) found that teachers in Nursery classes (age 3—4) developed a learner-centred curriculum in which they followed the children’s ideas and interests. By the Reception class (age 4–5), play mostly occurred after children had finished their work. By Year 1 (age 5–6), teachers adopted a curriculum-centred approach in which teaching objectives and curriculum content were defined by national curriculum policies, and children had little choice or autonomy. Although there were few opportunities for play, teachers planned some playful activities to engage children’s interest and enthusiasm. These findings have been replicated in subsequent studies: although teachers and practitioners continue to endorse the educational potential of play, they have difficulties with understanding their role, finding time to interact with children, and assessing the outcomes of play-based activities (Moyles et al., 2002). There remain concerns that the focus on literacy and numeracy (which is a key policy emphasis) is resulting in simplistic measures of knowledge acquisition and skills-based competencies, with inappropriate content and instructional strategies (Adams, Alexander, Drummond and Moyles, 2004; Moyles et al., 2002; SirajBlatchford, Sylva, Muttock, Gilden and Bell, 2002). There are clear tensions between what policy texts state, and the pressures that influence teaching priorities, curriculum content, and pedagogical roles. These concerns resonate across international contexts, with remarkably similar evidence about the tensions between the rhetoric of teachers’ theories and their classroom practice (Docket and Fleer, 1999; Johnson et al., 2005; Lillemyr, 2003). Johnson et al. (2005) discuss similar trends and issues in the United States, where an emphasis on standards, ‘academics,’ ‘push-down’ pressures, and a back-to-basics policy agenda all support direct instructional methods, and militate against play. The authors also identify tensions within the community of play scholars in debating the value of ‘educational play’ and free play. The advocates of free play express concerns that play is undermined and disrupted when it is used to achieve academic ends. Similarly, critical theorists argue that educational play disrupts children’s choices and autonomy, and reinforces differential power relations between teachers and children (Cannella, 2005; MacNaughton, 2000; Ryan, 2005). However, free play and free choice are also problematic, especially in relation to equity and diversity issues (Ryan & Grieshaber, 2005). In a collaborative action research study of teachers’ professional development and change, MacNaughton (2000) challenged the theoretical hegemony of developmentally appropriate practice, specifically relating to gendered preferences in play activities and gendered patterns of play. The study revealed that many teaching practices, as well as free play activities, influenced the gendering and stereotyping of

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children’s identities. For example, boys and girls regularly chose to play in different areas, and controlled the space they used in different ways. These practices were challenged and changed through a process of collaborative professional development, resulting in practical guidance on reconceptualizing early childhood pedagogies in relation to considerations about equality. This study revealed possibilities for new readings of the child and for a deeper understanding of knowledge-power relations in early childhood education, particularly the ways in which these are manifest in play contexts and discourses. Brooker (2002) has also raised some critical questions about the relevance of play for children from different cultural and ethnic communities. Brooker studied sixteen children in their transition from home to a Reception class in a primary school. Half the children came from Anglo families, whose parents were born and educated in the United Kingdom and whose home culture was English working class. Three children were of dual Anglo and Afro-Caribbean heritage. The remaining eight children were from Bangladeshi homes, with ‘first generation’ parents, whose home and work lives were almost entirely within the neighborhood Bangladeshi community. In the Bangladeshi homes children were prepared for a formal, transmissive style of education, in which they were required to be passive and to obey the guidance of the teacher. These children, and their families, found it difficult to accommodate to the teachers’ child-centered pedagogical orientations. The pedagogical routines and expectations included free play, choice, independence, and autonomy, all of which were unfamiliar for the children and put them at a disadvantage in relation to their Anglo peers. For example, Brooker documents how one child, Khiernessa, established her agency by resisting play and free choice: . . . she refused to play with the sand or water (she reported that her mother said ‘No, you get cold, you get cough); she rejected all forms of role play, except the domestic (flatly refusing to play in the ‘shoe shop’); and she avoided construction toys (‘No, they boys’), the computer and all the structured table-top activities intended for shape and space, matching, memory, visual discrimination and so on. Despite her bright start to school, she did not conform entirely to the ‘ideal-type’ pupil, nor was she accessing the whole curriculum. In exercising her own agency, she was in these terms restricting her own learning. (Brooker, 2002, p. 92)

Thus it can be argued that there are layers of tensions and challenges in policy and practice, in teachers’ theories and practice, and in philosophical and epistemological orientations. A key outcome of these international trends is that conceptualising a pedagogy of play is clearly established in policy and

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research agendas, but remains challenging in practice. Global trends and discourses have shifted attention to the quality and effectiveness of early childhood education, and its impact on children’s subsequent learning careers. As the following section reveals, there is substantial evidence to support the claim that play is a characteristic of high quality provision, based on a clear conceptualization of the teacher’s role.

LINKING PLAY AND PEDAGOGICAL EFFECTIVENESS The British government’s research agenda in the pre-school sector has been increasingly focused on the ‘effectiveness’ of different settings in relation to pupil learning outcomes and subsequent learning careers. The study on Effective Provision of Preschool Education (EPPE), and its linked projects, are an outcome of this agenda. The EPPE project is a large-scale, mixed-method, longitudinal study tracking the progress and development of 3,000 children over an eight-year period (age 3–11) who have attended different types of pre-school provision (Sylva, Sammons, Melhuish, Siraj-Blatchford and Taggart, 1999). Using an educational effectiveness design employing multi-level modelling techniques, the research has identified the impact of a range of child, parent, home, and pre-school influences on children’s attainment and social behavioural outcomes. The results of the quantitative analyses of effective settings were used to select a small number of case studies for more detailed qualitative investigations of practice. Outcomes from the related study on Researching Effective Pedagogy in the Early Years (REPEY) (SirajBlatchford et al., 2002) have provided detailed understanding of a wide range of pedagogical strategies and techniques that affect child outcomes. The authors distinguish between pedagogical interactions (specific behaviour on the part of adults) and pedagogical framing (the behind-the scenes aspects of pedagogy which include planning, resources, and routines). The findings of Siraj-Blatchford et al. (2002), which are summarised below, relate specifically to conceptualizing the relationship between play-based pedagogy and high quality provision. • Effective pedagogues model appropriate language, values and practice; encourage socio-dramatic play; praise, encourage, ask questions and interact verbally with children. • Effective pedagogy is both ‘teaching’ and the provision of instructive learning and play environments and routines. • The most effective settings provide both teacher-initiated group work and freely chosen yet potentially instructive play activities.

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• Excellent settings tend to achieve an equal balance between adult-led and child-initiated interactions, play, and activities. • The most highly qualified staff provides the most direct teaching alongside the kind of interactions which guide but do not dominate children’s thinking. • Teachers stimulate children’s activity and talk through ‘sustained shared thinking’. Sustained shared thinking can arise in adult- and child-initiated activities, including play: teachers and children engage in meaningful discussions which involve co-constructing meaning and understanding. Teachers respond to, and stimulate children’s interests, ideas and areas of enquiry, which involves shared orchestration of cognitive and social activity. These findings do not propose that play-based learning activities are more appropriate than those which involve teacher direction and direct instruction. Rather it is the mix of activities that contributes to pedagogical effectiveness and child outcomes: The most effective (excellent) settings provide both and achieve a balance between the opportunities provided for children to benefit from teacher initiated group work and the provision of freely chosen yet potentially instructive play activities. (Siraj-Blatchford et al., 2002, p. 43)

The REPEY findings suggest a three-part model of pedagogy that includes adult and child involvement, cognitive (co-constructive) engagement, and the use of instruction techniques such as modeling, demonstrating, explaining and questioning. Other effective strategies include providing feedback during and after activities, and ensuring the provision of challenging yet achievable experiences.

THEORETICAL AND CONCEPTUAL CHALLENGES The foregoing discussion raises a number of key theoretical and conceptual challenges for play scholarship, play policy, and play pedagogy. Johnson et al. (2005) argue that advocates of teacher involvement in play have some steep hurdles to overcome. However, findings from the EPPE projects, and from other advocates of play pedagogy, stand as a counterpoint and challenge to entrenched beliefs about the efficacy of free play and free choice, and a non-interventionist role for teachers and practitioners. First, the traditional free play/choice ideology means that the youngest learners in pre-school settings have the most freedom to control and direct their activities, even though

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they are the least experienced learners in the education system. As Brooker (2002) has shown, such approaches do not benefit all children, especially where these are not consistent with culturally situated child-rearing practices in homes and communities. Ryan (2005) argues that instead of choice being conceptualized as freedom from adult authority, adults’ interactions should focus on helping children to understand the choices offered by different classroom discourses and the power effects of such choices. Focusing on learning, Wood & Attfield (2005) propose that children need to be aware of how to make choices and decisions in order to maximize the metacognitive potential of play activities. Second, play is no longer seen as the principal mode of learning, but is integrated within a broad range of activities. However, the concept of ‘potentially instructive’ play activities, as recommended in the EPPE study, stands as a further challenge to non-interventionist roles, and raises some fundamental philosophical and epistemological issues. Who decides what is a ‘potentially instructive’ moment in play? Where is the locus of control of the instruction? Who controls or manages the direction and content of the instruction? How does instruction influence the subsequent flow of the play? And how do players manage potentially instructive moments in their free play activities without adult involvement? Although teachers’ instructional strategies can be broad and flexible, and related to children’s interests and activities, there remain some debates as to whether instruction should focus on subject knowledge. The English curriculum provides detailed guidance on subject content, in contrast to the more process-led, experiential orientations of Te Whaariki, Reggio Emilia and DAP. Combining adult-directed and children’s self-initiated activities demands complex pedagogical models, and poses challenges to teachers’ pedagogical orientations, curriculum planning, subject knowledge, and assessment strategies. Furthermore, any attempt to conceptualize a pedagogy of play needs to be situated in the practical realities and constraints that teachers face in early childhood settings. From the perspective of postmodern and critical pedagogy, the discourse of school effectiveness can be seen as another means of regulating children’s learning, and professional knowledge and practices, through socio-political structures (educational reform, national curriculum polices and curriculum guidance documents). Third, the findings from EPPE could also be interpreted to privilege teachers’ intentions for learning, thereby reinforcing the policy focus on content coverage and achieving defined learning outcomes. The aspiration that play is an integral characteristic of high quality provision needs to be examined through the lens of critical pedagogy in order to address questions and assumptions about the universal relevance of play across cultural communities and practices, and as well as considerations about diversity and

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equity (Cannella, 2005; MacNaughton, 2000; Ryan, 2005). The curriculum frameworks described earlier all value certain culturally approved forms of play but do not always recognize the complexities of children’s social and cultural worlds. Play can have intended as well as unintended outcomes, which can be both positive and negative. Sutton-Smith (1997) notes that children are allowed much less freedom for irrational, wild, dark or deep play, which is where they typically use play for their own affairs of power, control and agency. As Ryan (2005) argues, children’s play is not a neutral space but rather a political and negotiated terrain, in which children map out multiple discourses, identities, and power dynamics. In order to address these conceptual challenges, a number of play scholars have attempted to define a pedagogy of play, which is grounded in contemporary theory and specifies dynamic, integrated approaches.

DEFINING A PEDAGOGY OF PLAY Drawing on contemporary socio-cultural theories and research evidence, Wood (2004) defines a pedagogy of play as 1) the ways in which early childhood professionals make provision for playful and play-based activities; 2) how they design play/learning environments; and 3) all the pedagogical techniques and strategies they use to support or enhance learning through play (p. 19). This definition provides a pragmatic focus on the teacher’s role. It recognises the significance of educative relationships between children, teachers and other adults, and the interdependence of the child as player/learner, as well as the child in the playing/learning environment. The latter includes all the tools, resources (human and material), artifacts, and symbols that influence children’s learning and development, and provide the motivation for children’s activities (Hakkarainen, 1999). This definition could also encompass a home- or community-based pedagogy of play, but does not fully acknowledge the ways in which children act as playful pedagogues and teach each other during different play activities. However, this definition reflects trends in international play scholarship, which aims to conceptualize a proactive role for teachers while maintaining the integrity of play for children. In an Australian context, Docket and Fleer (1999) also adopt a pragmatic and strategic stance on play and pedagogy. Drawing on socio-cultural theories, they argue that there are degrees of guidance and control, ranging from direct interventions to more indirect influences. A key issue is that teachers make conscious decisions about their pedagogical framing, decisions, and actions, and articulate the values and beliefs on which such decisions are based.

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Johnson et al. (2005) reinforce these perspectives and provide a critical evaluation of research studies that have examined teacher involvement in play, with both positive and negative findings. They note that the current trend is towards more involvement in play, but there remain ongoing concerns about the quality and appropriateness of the involvement: “Problems can occur when adults are totally uninvolved in play or when they get too involved and take over control of the play or try to redirect towards academic goals that are not connected with the play” (Johnson et al., 2005, p. 274). In addressing this issue, the authors provide practical guidance on a range of proactive, facilitative roles such as onlooker, stage manager, co-player, and play leader. They identify the benefits and key characteristics of educational play as positive affect, free choice, non-literality, means-over-ends orientation, making learning meaningful, and balancing the school day. They also highlight the importance of an integrated, connected model of teaching, in which teacher-directed and child-initiated learning experiences reinforce and build on each other. Meckley (2002) reinforces this proactive stance and identifies the following potential roles for teachers: • Planning and setting up the learning environment (including co-planning with children) • Respectful listening and observing • Communicating and questioning • Supervising for safety • Being a co-player • Modelling enthusiasm and inquisitiveness • Evaluating A guiding principle is pedagogical sensitivity in each of these areas. For example, being a co-player should ideally be informed by the teacher’s understanding of the children’s play patterns and routines, by the roles that the children assign, and by the meanings that they co-construct with peers and with adults (Meckley, 2002). Similarly, Wood and Attfield (2005) draw on contemporary socio-cultural theories in order to justify co-constructive approaches to teaching and learning, in which children and adults work and play collaboratively, and share meanings and intentions. Taking a socio-cultural approach to play also requires teachers to appreciate the need for play activities, and for the classroom environment to reflect and support the cultures, values, and beliefs of children from diverse communities. There is also broad agreement that teachers should have specific roles in supporting play for children with special educational

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needs, circumstances, and learning challenges (Dockett and Fleer, 1999; Johnson et al., 2005; Wood and Attfield, 2005). Teachers can develop Individual Play Plans alongside Individual Education Plans (Wood and Attfield, 2005), with the proviso that play-based interventions and interactions need to be finely tuned to specific dispositions and capabilities; all of which demands more specialised attention to the child, the curriculum, the social context, and all aspects of the teacher’s role. Thus a proactive pedagogical role should ensure that all children have access to a high quality curriculum so they can enjoy the benefits of play according to their capabilities. The recommendations from the foregoing studies and theoretical trends can be summarised in a pedagogical model that integrates four pedagogical zones, and values the perspectives and actions of teachers and children. (See Figure 10.1.) This model avoids the dichotomy between work and play, as recommended by Pellegrini (1991), and conceptualizes a continuum between work or non-play activities, and playful or pure play activities. The model focuses attention on how play-based pedagogies can be conceptualised in multiple ways, thereby creating a new form of pedagogical praxis. Each of the four pedagogical zones represents a different, but potentially complementary orientation, incorporating adult and child involvement, cognitive [co-constructive] engagement, and a range of instructional techniques. Working clockwise, zones one and two encompass degrees of playfulness in both child-initiated and teacher-directed activities, which reflects the bidirectional relationship between play-led curriculum and curriculum-led play (Van Hoorn et al., 2002). Zone one includes activities that are closest to ‘pure play,’ and are most likely to reflect the defining essence and characteristics of play (Johnson et al., 2005, pp. 11–16). Play will be child-initiated, with the players exercising choice, control, and freedom; there would be little intervention from adults and no pressure for products or outcomes. In zone two,

Figure 10.1. An integrated pedagogical model

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teacher-directed play activities can have elements of imagination and fun, and will engage children in playful ways with curriculum goals or content. For example, teachers may encourage children to act out a story with puppets, or solve mathematical problems in the context of imaginary situations. Teacherdirected activities can also be a precursor to play, for example telling a story, introducing new materials or artifacts, or demonstrating technical skills. Teacher-directed activities may provide opportunities for development and enrichment for children’s self-initiated play, as documented by Wood and Attfield (2005). In zone three, teacher-directed activities are more controlled, with focused instructional strategies and clearly defined outcomes that relate to curriculum goals. There is no choice or flexibility for the children. In zone four, children may choose or initiate activities that are ‘workful’ in that they pay attention to means and ends, and become involved and engaged in activities that are more literal than non-literal. Such activities may also involve positive affect and social affiliation, because children can demonstrate knowledge, skills, and competencies in meaningful contexts. The model potentially encompasses a progressive cycle: children may use new skills and knowledge to extend their play activities, thus returning to zone 1 at higher levels of competence. Teachers and practitioners can move across zones in order to respond to children’s needs, learning preferences and styles, and to ensure that learning is related to curriculum goals and subject knowledge. A key issue is that teachers maintain a critical and reflexive focus on the child as player/learner in a range of playing/learning contexts. In summary, contemporary research and scholarship repositions teachers and practitioners in a dynamic pedagogical framework that integrates playing, learning, and teaching. This is not an argument for teachers dominating play, disguising work as play, or using play only to fulfill defined educational goals or outcomes. The teacher’s role is subtle, complex, and reciprocal: teachers can both inspire play, and be inspired by the play that they participate in or observe (Wood and Attfield, 2005). A defining, and critical issue is that teachers and practitioners make conscious pedagogical decisions about play provision, rather than working from taken for granted assumptions. Even where teachers adopt a co-constructive role with children in designing play environments, props, and resources, children still invest their own meanings and interpretations, which are not always accessible to adults. Therefore teachers cannot expect that children will consistently use resources in the ways intended or anticipated, or that play will result in defined learning outcomes. All early childhood specialists need to be professionally skilled and knowledgeable to allow for possible outcomes, to interpret actual outcomes, and to be alert to unintended outcomes, which may be positive or negative. The ways in which teachers and practitioners read or interpret play should be

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informed by children’s meanings and intentions, and take account of cultural and contextual factors. At a theoretical level, there is broad agreement that mapping socio-cultural understandings into practice requires active reconceptualization on the part of teachers and practitioners. However, the effort and time needed for this shift has been seriously underestimated because of the dominance of developmental discourses in the field and the challenges that socio-cultural theories provoke (Anning, Cullen and Fleer, 2004; Fleer, 2006; Ortega, 2003; Ryan & Grieshaber, 2005). In addition, policy frameworks are not always consistent with contemporary theoretical advances, particularly where political discourses of standards, outcomes, effectiveness, and performance are privileged (Wood & Bennett, 2006). Furthermore, the recommendations of research are not easily mapped into practice without opportunities for high quality professional development in which teachers have the time, knowledge, and opportunities to generate practice-based evidence, and to engage in reflective, critical dialogues that provoke sustained change. In terms of the bigger picture of play scholarship, the concluding section argues that developing a pedagogy of play is dependent on informed understanding of how young children learn through play, the characteristics of effective pedagogy in early childhood, and critical engagement with issues of equity and diversity.

FUTURE DIRECTIONS In spite of positive validations for play in research and policy documents, play remains vulnerable to competing policy discourses, and the top-down influences of the primary school curriculum. Thus building a secure pedagogy of play, which is theoretically robust and empirically justified, remains a significant endeavor in the early childhood community. The foregoing studies indicate that a more secure pedagogy of play needs to be based on detailed theoretical understanding of the pedagogical relationships and strategies that children and adults use in different configurations (child-child, adultchild, child-adult), and the meaning of play activities to children. Further specification is also needed of the ways in which teachers conceptualize and implement an integrated approach to planning for a play-based curriculum and for curriculum-based play, and the combining of teacher-directed and child-initiated activities. Play activities facilitate transfer of knowledge across different contexts, with the distinction that play occurs in imagined situations, and involves symbolic transformations. Children make connections between their play activities and their everyday experiences, which may be authentic (visiting a cafe) or imaginary (acting out the roles of chef, customer, server).

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Therefore, a further challenge is specifying how teachers can identify and assist those transfer processes and strategies. In particular, teachers need to recognize the spontaneous connections that children make and the connections that they themselves can provoke through their pedagogical framing and strategies. There is broad international consensus that the subject disciplines offer powerful means for framing children’s learning (Hedges & Cullen, 2005; Wood and Attfield, 2005). Children’s needs and interests are often driven by their fascination with the world of adults and by their motivation to act more knowledgeably and more competently. Future play scholarship should aim to provide empirical understanding of different forms of play and their implications for developing discipline-based knowledge, skills, and understanding. Research in the field of play and literacy has been conducted from multiple perspectives and has generated strong evidence of links between developing literacies and play activities (Marsh and Millard, 2000; Roskos and Christie, 2000). Similarly detailed and robust studies are needed across the subject disciplines in order to provide an evidence base that can inform policy and practice. Another significant gap in research is knowledge about how play progresses and how children’s learning progresses through play within and beyond early childhood. There is an implicit assumption that play is appropriate for young children but can be phased out in compulsory schooling. This standpoint contradicts the notion that lifelong playing is as important as lifelong learning, and that becoming a skilled player in many different areas is an ongoing process (Sutton-Smith, 1997). Johnson et al. (2005) describe how play develops and how children’s play skills develop with age and experience. Therefore, further detailed specification is needed of how teachers can identify progression in play and progression through play. It is also important to consider how such understanding might be mapped into curriculum and pedagogical guidelines beyond early childhood, so that play can encompass challenge and extension. Finally, in relation to pedagogical effectiveness, one of the key themes to emerge from recent studies is the importance of professional knowledge and expertise in early childhood specialists (MacNaughton, 2000; Moyles et al., 2002; Siraj-Blatchford et al., 2002). More empirical work is needed on the nature of teachers’ epistemologies and how these relate to their broad pedagogical orientations, and to specific play-based pedagogies. Contemporary research is re-viewing early childhood through the lens of critical and postmodern theories and, in particular, is raising challenging issues about equity and diversity. Further effort is needed to connect these theoretical discourses with reconceptualizing policies and practices. In the international field of play scholarship, a broadly-based

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research agenda would be particularly timely in view of increasing policy interventions in early childhood education, with the attendant pressures on preparing children for academically-oriented curricula. Thus a future research agenda offers much scope for developing theoretically rigorous conceptualizations of integrated pedagogies, and for valuing play and playfulness as characteristics of high quality provision. REFERENCES Abbott, L., & Nutbrown, C. (Eds.). (2001). Experiencing Reggio Emilia: Implications for pre-school provision. Buckingham, UK: Open University Press. Adams, S., Alexander, E., Drummond, M.J., & Moyles, J. (2004). Inside the Foundation Stage: Recreating the reception year. London: Association of Teachers and Lecturers. Anning, A., Cullen, J., & Fleer, M. (Eds.). (2004). Early childhood education: Society and culture. London: Sage Publications. Bennett, N., Wood, E., & Rogers, S. (1997). Teaching Through Play: Reception Teachers’ Theories and Practice. Buckingham, UK: Open University Press. Bredekamp, S., & Copple, C. (Eds.). (1987). Developmentally appropriate practice in early childhood programs serving children from birth through age 8. Washington, DC: NAEYC. Bredekamp, S., & Copple, C. (Eds.). (1997). Developmentally appropriate practice in early childhood programs serving children from birth through age 8 (Rev. ed.). Washington, DC: NAEYC. Broadhead, P. (2004). Early years play and learning: Developing social skills and co-operation. London: RoutledgeFalmer. Brooker, L. (2002). Starting school-young children learning cultures. Buckingham, UK: Open University Press. Broström, S. (1999). Drama games with 6 year-old children: Possibilities and limitations. In Y. Engeström, R. Miettinen, & R. L. Punamaki (Eds.). Perspectives on activity theory (pp. 250–263). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Cadwell, L. (1997). Bringing Reggio Emila home: An innovative approach to early childhood education. New York: Teachers College Press. Cannella, G.S. (2005). Reconceptualizing the field of early care and education: If ‘western’ child development is a problem, then what do we do? In N. Yelland (Ed.). Critical Issues in Early Childhood (pp.17–39). Maidenhead, UK: Open University Press. DeVries, R. (1997). Piaget’s social theory. Educational Researcher, 26(2), 4–17. DeVries, R., Zan, B., Hildebrandt, C., Edmiaston, R., & Sales, C. (2002). Developing constructivist early childhood curriculum: Practical principles and activities. New York: Teachers College Press. Dockett, S., & Fleer, M. (1999). Play and pedagogy in early childhood: Bending the rules. Marrickville, New South Wales: Harcourt Brace.

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Wood, E., & Attfield, J. (2005). Play, learning and the early childhood curriculum (2nd ed.). London: Paul Chapman. Wood, E., & Bennett, N. (2001). Early childhood teachers’ theories of progression and continuity. International Journal of Early Years Education, 9(3), 229–243. Wood, E., & Bennett, N. (2006). Curriculum, pedagogy and learning in early childhood: Sites for struggle-sites for progress. In L. Verschaffel, F. Dochy, M. Boekarts, & S. Vosniadou, (Eds.), Instructional psychology: past, present and future trends. Sixteen essays in honour of Erik de Corte (pp. 3–18). Amsterdam: Elsevier. Worthington, M., and Carruthers, E. (2003). Children’s mathematics: Making marks, making meaning. London: Paul Chapman. Yellend, N. (2005). (Ed.). Critical issues in early childhood education. Maidenhead, UK: Open University Press.

Index

Adolescent Playfulness Scale (APS20), 135, 136, 138 adult guidance, 125 The Association for the Study of Play, vii, viii, 21; Brian Sutton-Smith Career Achievement Award, vii; Play & Culture Series, vii, xi, xii; Play Review newsletter, xi attachment, 44, 46 Baby’s Health: A practical handbook for the young mother, 65 Barnett, L. A., 40, 50 Bowlby, J., 44, 46 Brian Sutton-Smith Career Achievement Award. See The Association for the Study of Play Burke, K.: theory of the negative, 15 Callois, R., 147, 159 catalogs: Montgomery Ward, 68; Sears, 66, 68, 69 child-care practices, 59 childhood, 19, 26 Christie, J., 94, 108, 109 Clark, B. L., 60 communitas, 33, 158, 159 Comstock Law, 59 constructivist approach, 126 creativity, 6, 10

Csikszentmihalyi, M.: flow, 31 Curriculum Guidance for the Foundation Stage, 170 Developmentally Appropriate Practice (DAP), 169, 170, 171, 179 dolls: Raggedy Ann, 69; Teddy bears, 69 Edwardian years, 64 Effective Provision of Preschool Education (EPPE), 177, 178, 179 emergent literacy, 93, 95 English Foundation Stage, 174 Erikson, E., 15, 24 Fishbein, H., 89n1 Freud, S., 23, 25; Freudian tradition, 23, 26 Froebel, F., 59, 123 functionalism, 18 games, 24 Geertz, C.: deep play, 31 Goffman, E., 28 Golden Age of Toys, 64 Greenfield, L. F., 67, 68 Groos, K., 25 guided participation, 94, 95, 108 Hall, G. S., 26, 60 Hans, J., 6, 8 191

192

Index

Heidegger, M., 6 Henricks, T., 147 Hinduism: view of play, 2 The Home Literacy Environment Scale (HLE), 97 Huizinga, J., 1, 2, 16, 25, 26, 29, 35, 145– 47, 158, 159; Homo Ludens, 16, 145 humor, 23 Koestler, A., 6, 7; The Act of Creation, 6 Kohlberg, L., 17, 24; theory of moral development, 17 Ladies Home Journal, 61 Lieberman, J., 33, 34 liminal play, 160 Mason, W. A., 46, 48 McGreal, C. E., 61 Mead, G., 17 Millar, S.: The psychology of play, 4 monkey play, 40 No Child Left Behind Act, 113, 124, 128 novelty, 49 Paley, V., 109 Parental Reading Belief Inventory (PRBI), 97 part-whole relationships, 7, 8, 11 Pettigrew, J., 64 Piaget, J., 7, 10, 17, 18, 25, 34, 173 Plato, 7 Play & Culture Series. See The Association for the Study of Play Play Review newsletter. See The Association for the Study of Play play: and freedom, 5, 11; and literacy, 94– 95, 99, 105, 185; and numeracy, 99; and parental guidance, 107; and rules, 25; and time, 127; and work, 6, 17, 113–16, 121–26, 146, 167, 171, 182; animal, 15, 39; cultural differences, 176, 181; defining, 145–47, 167; exploratory, 99; free, 175; outreach scholarship on, vii; parental beliefs about importance of, 95; pedagogy of, 167, 177–78, 180–84; pretend,

99; rhetorics of, 14; study of, viii, 1; teacher’s role, 126, 166, 172–73; types of play, 14 playfulness, 2, 4–5, 8, 12, 126, 127, 131–41; playmate preferences: and physical attractiveness, 76; and racial attitudes, 75; sex based, 75–76 Preschool Racial Attitude Measure (PRAM), 78, 80, 89 Psychoanalytic viewpoint, 23 reflexive consciousness, 15, 22 Reggio Emilia, 169–70, 171, 179 Researching Effective Pedagogy in the Early Years (REPEY), 177–78 Rheingold, H., 49 Rogoff, B., 94, 108 Roosevelt, T., 56 Roskos, K., 94, 108, 109 Simmel, G., 30, 31 Solis-Cohen, M., 65 Spariosu, M., 2 Spielberg, S., 50 Spolin, V., 5 sports, 24–25 Strong National Museum of Play, vii Sutton-Smith, vii, 3–4, 12, 14, 16, 20, 34, 35, 54, 147, 180; The ambiguity of play, 12, 16 TASP. See The Association for the Study of Play Te Whaariki, 169, 171, 179 Thurber, J.: Walter Mitty, 32 transformations, 6, 8 Turner, V., 158, 159, 160 Verblen, T., 26 Vygotsky, L. S., 18 Winnicott, D. W., 7, 8; Playing and Reality, 7 work. See play Zone of Proximal Development, 95

About the Contributors

(Authors are listed by alphabetical order. Professional affiliations are listed first followed by individual contact information.) Gary Chick holds a Ph.D. in anthropology from the University of Pittsburgh and is a professor in the Department of Recreation, Park and Tourism Management and the Department of Anthropology at The Pennsylvania State University. He is a past-president of the Society for Cross-Cultural Research and The Association for the Study of Play. He is a member of the Academy of Leisure Sciences and a fellow of the American Anthropological Association and of the Society for Applied Anthropology. He has published more than 100 journal articles and book chapters and is presently writing a book on anthropological approaches to the study of leisure, titled, Leisure in Culture: An Anthropological Perspective. Address: Department of Recreation, Park and Tourism Management, Penn State University, 801 Ford Building, University Park, PA 16802 Telephone: (814) 863-1941. Email: [email protected]. Harold Fishbein. The late Harold Fishbein was Professor of Psychology in the McMicken College of Arts and Science at the University of Cincinnati. His areas of interest focused on prejudice, evolutionary psychology, and children’s conceptualization of space. Highlighting a distinguished list of professional presentations and publications was the Eleanor Maccoby Book Award in Developmental Psychology (Division 7 of the American Psychological Association) for his book Peer Prejudice and Discrimination: Evolutionary, Cultural, and Developmental Dynamics. Hal was widely considered one of the fathers of evolutionary developmental psychology. 193

194

About the Contributors

Gwen Gordon is an independent scholar studying the theory and application of adult transformative play. She teaches play at a wide range of Bay Area institutes from the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology to the Coaches Training Institute. Her articles on play have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies including the Journal for Humanistic Psychology and the AQAL Journal for Integral theory. Gwen also holds public playgroups, consults with organizations about play culture, and has a private counseling practice. She received her masters degree in philosophy and religion from the California Institute of Integral Studies. For more information, go to www. gwengordonplay.com Thomas Hendricks is Danieley Professor of Sociology at Elon University. His scholarly interests center on the nature of play, including its relationship to other basic forms of human activity. He is also interested in the contributions of sociological thought to an interdisciplinary understanding of play. He is the author of many writings on play, including his 2006 book, Play Reconsidered: Sociological Perspectives on Human Expression. Address: Department of Sociology and Anthropology, CB 2035, Elon University, Elon, NC, 27244. Telephone: (336) 278-6446, Email: [email protected] Susan Hutchinson is an Associate Professor in the School of Health and Human Performance at Dalhousie University. Her research focuses on the role of leisure in the lives of older adults, and examines the contributions of leisure to health and well-being. She has published several articles and book chapters. Her most recent publication in Health Care for Women international focuses on older women’s participation in the Raging Grannies, an all-women’s social activist organization. Address: School of Health and Human Performance, Dalhousie University, 6230, South Street, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, B3H 3J5 Telephone: (902) 494-1163. Email: [email protected]. James Johnson is Professor of Early Childhood Education at The Pennsylvania State University. His scholarly interests include children’s play, early childhood programs, and the educational role of the family. He has authored numerous articles, chapters, and textbooks on early childhood programs including the most recent: Play, Development, and Early Education in 2005. Address: 0012 Physical Plant Building, University Park, PA 16802. Telephone: (814) 865-4731. Email: [email protected]. Deborah Kerstetter is an Associate Professor of Recreation, Park and Tourism Management in the College of Health and Human Development

About the Contributors

195

at The Pennsylvania State University. Her research interests include leisure participation outcomes for older women as well as factors associated with leisure-based decision-making. She has presented her research through multiple outlets ranging from the Journal of Women and Aging to the Annals of Tourism Research to national and international conferences. Address: 801 Ford Building, University Park, PA, 16802 Telephone: (814) 863-8988. Email: [email protected]. David Kuschner is an Associate Professor of Early Childhood Education at the University of Cincinnati. His research interests include children’s play, constructivism, and the history of early childhood education. His most recent publication is “Children’s play in the journal, Young Children: An analysis of how it is portrayed and why it is valued” which appeared in Volume 7 of Play & Culture Studies. Address: P. O. Box 210105, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, OH 45221-0105. Telephone: (513) 556-0493. Email: [email protected]. D. Michael Malone is a Professor of Early Childhood in the College of Education, Criminal Justice, and Human Services at the University of Cincinnati. His research interests include children’s play, teamwork in early childhood intervention, early transitions, and personnel preparation. He is widely published in each of these areas. His most recent publications include Contextually Influenced Patterns of Play-Developmental Age Associations for Preschoolers With and Without Mental Retardation; Mothers’ Perceptions Regarding the Social Competence of Preschool Children With Mental Retardation; and Kindergarten Teachers’ Perceptions of Including Children With Disabilities in General Education Classrooms. Address: University of Cincinnati, PO Box 210105, Cincinnati, OH 452210105. Telephone: (513) 556-3833; Email [email protected] Eva E. Nwokah is an Associate Professor of Communication Sciences and Disorders in the School of Health and Human Performance at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Her research interests include early intervention, typical and atypical early social-emotional and communicative development and the material culture of play. She has published numerous articles and book chapters. One of her most recent chapters is “Games, toys and pastimes in the Greenwood Encyclopedia of World Popular Culture: Sub-Saharan Africa. Address: 313 Ferguson Building, P.O. Box 26170, Spring Garden St., University of North Carolina at Greensboro, NC 27402. Telephone: (336) 334-4657. Email: [email protected]

196

About the Contributors

Peggy O’Neill Wagner is a Research Psychologist specializing in nonhuman primate behavior at the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development, Laboratory of Comparative Ethology, NIH Animal Center. She publishes articles and book chapters dedicated to the understanding and well being of monkeys in captivity. Address: Lab of Comparative Ethology, P.O. Box 334, Poolesville, MD. 20837 Telephone: (301) 496-7037. Email: [email protected]. Michael Patte is an assistant professor of education at Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania. His interest in the study of play and its impact on human development throughout the lifespan emerged from personal experiences as a child, an elementary school teacher, and university professor living in a culture that continues to push play to the periphery of our society. Dr. Patte has published articles on the state of recess in elementary schools in an accountability driven society, the therapeutic benefits of play for children in distress, and the impact of play on the human spirit. Address: 3207 McCormick Building, Bloomsburg University, Bloomsburg, PA 17815-1301. Telephone: (570) 389-4026. Email: [email protected] Marianne B. Staempfli is an instructor at the Department of Environmental Design and Rural Development at the University of Guelph, Ontario Canada. Her research interests include child and adolescent play and playfulness across different contexts, safe risk and youth development, as well as outdoor play and well-being. Her current research focuses on the developmental benefits of outdoor play for urban children as well as the developmental benefits of adventure playgrounds. E-mail: [email protected]. Dolores A. Stegelin is Professor of Early Childhood Education in the College of Health, Education, and Human Development at Clemson University. Her research interests include play advocacy, the Reggio Emilia Approach, family/school/home relationships, and science curriculum. She has published three textbooks, numerous articles and book chapters. Her most recent publication is Making the Case for Play Policy: Research-based Reasons to Advocate for Play Environments. Address: 401A Tillman Hall, Clemson University, Clemson, SC 296340705. Telephone: (864) 656-0327. Email: [email protected].

About the Contributors

197

Maureen Vandermaas-Peeler is a professor of psychology at Elon University in North Carolina. Her research interests focus on young children’s development in socio-cultural contexts, with a particular focus on parental guidance during activities performed with young children at home. Recent studies have examined storytelling and play activities related to literacy and numeracy development, and she has published journal articles and book chapters on these topics. She is also a very active mentor of undergraduate research. Her co-authors Jackie Nelson, Melissa von der Heide and Erica Kelly were undergraduates who assisted with this research, and are all currently pursuing graduate education in areas related to child and family studies. Address: Campus Box 2337, Elon, NC 27244 Telephone: (336) 278-6453. Email: [email protected]. Elizabeth A. Wood is Professor of Education at the University of Exeter. She taught young children for 8 years, and currently leads the post-graduate Initial Teacher Education program for Early Childhood teachers, as well as teaching in a range of Masters and Doctoral programs, and leading school-based research partnerships in England and Wales. Her research interests include play within and beyond early childhood; teachers’ professional knowledge and practice; curriculum, pedagogy and assessment in early childhood education; and policy issues. She is the convener of the Special Interest Group on Early Childhood Education and Care in the British Educational Research Association, and works with the National Union of Teachers on developing policy and practice. She has a national and international reputation for her research on play, and publishes widely in academic and professional journals. Careen Mackay Yarnal holds a Ph.D. in Leisure Studies from The Pennsylvania State University and is an Assistant Professor of Recreation, Park and Tourism Management and an Affiliate of the Gerontology Centre at The Pennsylvania State University. Her research interests include play, playfulness, older adults, and healthy aging. She has published numerous articles and other academic publications. Her most recent publication is Yarnal, C., Chick, G., & Kerstetter, D. “’I did not have time to play growing up . . . so this is my play time. It’s the best thing I have ever done for myself’: What is play to older women?” Leisure Sciences (in press). Address: Department of Recreation, Park and Tourism Management, The Pennsylvania State University, 812 Ford Building University Park, PA 16802. Telephone: (814) 863-5559. Email: [email protected].